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Research paper topic: A Brave New World Aldous Huxley 81932, 1946 Aldous Huxley Harpercollins Publishers Ltd Ny,ny 10022 - 1168 words
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A Brave New World. Aldous Huxley. 81932, 1946 Aldous Huxley. HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. NY,NY. 10022 .
P 1 AA squat grey building of only thirty-four stories. Over the main entrance the words, CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World State=s motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY.@ Here is a document I found on the web which helped me (embedded as an OLE object) : P 13 ANothing like oxygen-shortage for keeping an embryo below par.@ AThe lower the caste . . . the shorter the oxygen.@ P 19 AThey hurried out of the room and returned in a minute or two, each pushing a kind of tall dumb-waiter laden, on all its four wire-netted shelves, with eight-month-old babies, all exactly alike (a Bokanovsky Group, it was evident) and all (since their caste was Delta) dressed in khaki.@ P 20 AThe screaming of the babies suddenly changed its tone.
There was something desperate, almost insane, about the sharp spasmodic yelps to which they now gave utterance.@ - Pavlovian conditioning room with babies, roses, and books. P 28 ANot so much like drops of water, though water, it is true, can wear holes in the hardest granite; rather, drops of liquid sealing-wax, drops that adhere, incrust, incorporate themselves with what they fall on, till finally the rock is all one scarlet blob.@ P 31 AWhat=s your name?@ APolly Trotsky.@ P 36 AHome, home - a few small rooms, stiflingly over-inhabited by a man, by a periodically teeming woman, by a rabble of boys and girls of all ages. No air, no space; an unsterilized prison; darkness, disease, and smells.@ P 41 AThe madness is infectious.@ P 41 AMother, monogamy, romance. High spurts the fountain; fierce and foamy the wild jet. The urge has but a single outlet. My love, my baby. No wonder these poor pre-moderns were mad and wicked and miserable.
Their world didn=t allow them to take things easily, didn=t allow them to be sane, virtuous, happy . . . they were forced to feel strongly (and strongly, what was more, in solitude, in hopelessly individual isolation), how could they be stable?@ P 46 AThere was something called liberalism. Parliament, if you know what that was, passed a law against it. The records survive.
Speeches about liberty of the subject. Liberty to be inefficient and miserable. Freedom to be a round peg in a square hole.@ P 53 AThere was a thing called Heaven; but all the same they used to drink enormous quantities of alcohol.@ P 54 AWhat you need is a gramme of soma.@ AAll the advantages of Christianity and alcohol; none of their defects.@ P 67 AThis Escalator-Squash champion, this indefatigable lover, (it was said that he had had six hundred and forty different girls in under four years), this admirable committee man and best mixer had realized quite suddenly that sport, women, communal activities were only, so far as he was concerned, second bests.@ P 77 AFive-stepping with the other four hundred round and round Westminister Abbey, Lenina and Henry were yet dancing in another world - the warm, the richly coloured the infinitely friendly world of soma-holiday.@ P 79 AThe great auditorium for Ford=s Day celebrations and other massed community sings was at the bottom of the building.@ This parallels the minutes hate of 1984. P 81 AAgain twelve stanzas. By this time the soma had begun to work. Eyes shone, cheeks were flushed, the inner light of universal benevolence broke out on every face in happy, friendly smiles.
P 84 AFeeling that it was time for him to do something, Bernard also jumped up and shouted: AI hear him; He=s coming.@ But it wasn=t true. He heard nothing and, for him, nobody was coming.@ P 115 ASlowly, the boy began to walk round the writhing heap of snakes. He had completed the first circuit and was half-way through the second when, from among the dancers, a tall man wearing the mask of a coyote and holding in his hand a whip of plaited leather, advanced towards him. The boy moved on as though unaware of the other=s existence. The coyote-man raised his whip; there was a long moment of expectancy, then a swift movement, the whistle of the lash and its loud flat-sounding impact on the flesh.
The boy=s body quivered; but he made no sound, he walked on at the same slow, steady pace. The coyote struck again, again; and at every blow at first a gasp and then a deep groan went up from the crowd. The boy walked. Twice, thrice, four times round he went. The blood was streaming.@ P 117 A.
. . the young man went on. AWhy wouldn=t they let me be the sacrifice? I=d have gone round ten times - twelve, fifteen. Palowhtiwa only got as far as seven.
They could have had twice as much blood from me. The multitudinous seas incarnadine.@ He flung out his arms in a lavish gesture; then, despairingly, let them fall again. ABut they wouldn=t let me. They disliked me for my complexion. It=s always been like that.
Always.@ Tears stood in the young man=s eyes; he was ashamed and turned away.@ P 138 AHe had discovered Time and Death and God.@ P 141 ABut the young man had evidently not heard the question. AO wonder!@ he was saying; and his eyes shone, his face was brightly flushed. AHow many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is!@ The flush suddenly deepened; he was thinking of Lenina, of an angel in bottle-green viscose, lustrous with youth and skin food, plump, benevolently smiling. His voice faltered. AO brave new world,@ he began . .
.@ P 148 AAThe hive of industry,@ as the Director was fond of calling it, was in the full buzz of work. Every one was busy, everything in ordered motion.@ The insect analogy is interesting. P 155 AThe return to civilization was for her the return to soma, was the possibility of lying in bed and taking holiday after holiday, without ever having to come back to a headache or a fit of vomiting, without ever being made to feel as you always felt after peyotl, as though you=d done something so shamefully antisocial that you could never hold up your head again. . .
She took as much as twenty grammes a day.@ P 189 AWe need some other kind of madness and violence. But what? What? Where can one find it?@ P 212 AUndoing all their wholesome death-conditioning with this disgusting outcry - as though death were something terrible, as though any one mattered as much as all that! It might give them the most disastrous ideas about the subject, might upset them into reacting in the entirely wrong, the utterly anti-social way.@ P 214 ATheir words and, in his ribs, the sharp nudging of elbows, broke through his unawareness. He woke once more to external reality, looked round him, knew what he saw - knew it, with a sinking sense of horror and disgust, for the recurrent delirium of his days and nights, the nightmare of swarming indistinguishable sameness.@ M.GLINES ENGLISH 12AP A Brave New World Log ?????1.
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