Brave New World

'All right, then,' said the Savage, 'I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.'
'Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and weak; the right to suffer disease; the right to have too little to eat; the right to live in constant fear of what may happen tomorrow; the right to fall a victim to pains of every kind.'
There was a long silence.
'I claim them all,' said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond spoke slowly. 'You're welcome,' he said.

'All the difference in the world. People used to turn to God when they were growing old and troubled and tired of the world. In the modern world we've got youth and happiness right up to the end. What follows? Evidently, that we can be independent of God. "Religious feeling will make up to us all our losses", says the writer of one of these old books. But we haven't any losses to be made up. We don't need religious feeling.'

'The ideal population,' said Mustapha Mond, 'is like an iceberg - eight-ninths below the waterline, one-ninth above.'
'And they're happy below the waterline?'
'Happier than above it. Happier than your friends here, for example.'

Why was the old fellow such a wonderful propaganda writer? Because he had so many really strong feelings, so many strange ideas to get excited about. You've got to be hurt and upset. Otherwise you can't think of the really good phrases, those that strike at the mind and the heart and live in the memory.

He could only half-understand the words, but they were full of a beautiful and terrible magic.

And slowly, raised by hands from below, there came up from the one a painted image of a large bird, from the other that of a man, naked and nailed to a cross.

More on my own, not so completely a part of something else

Where there is comfort there is no need for God.

All the difference in the world. People used to turn to God when they were growing old and troubled and tired of the world. In the modern world we've got youth and happiness right up to the end. What follows? Evidently, that we can be independent of God.

The feet of the Greater Being.' Again it repeated the words: 'The feet of the Greater Being.' The whisper almost died. 'The feet of the Greater Being are on the stairs.'