"The real hopeless victims of mental illness are to be found among those who appear to be most normal. "Many of them are normal because they are so w… - Aldous Huxley

I took my pill at eleven. An hour and half later I was sitting in my study, looking intently at a small glass vase. The vase contained only three flowers — a full-blown Belle of Portugal rose, shell pink with a hint at every petal's base of a hotter, flamier hue; a large magenta and cream-coloured carnation; and, pale purple at the end of its broken stalk, the bold heraldic blossom of an iris. Fortuitous and provisional, the little nosegay broke all the rules of traditional good taste. At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation — the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence.

«Όλοι λένε πως είμαι πολύ πνευματώδης», είπε η Λενίνα και χάιδεψε τα πόδια της.
«Πολύ». Η έκφρασή του έδειχνε να πονάει. «Σαν κρέας», σκέφτηκε. Τον κοίταξε ανήσυχα. «Δεν με βρίσκεις γεμάτη, έτσι;». Έκανε όχι. Όσο ένα κομμάτι κρέας.
«Με βρίσκεις καλή;» Κι άλλο κούνημα του κεφαλιού. «Παντού; Δηλαδή από πάσης πλευράς που λένε;»
«Τέλεια», είπε φωναχτά. Και από μέσα του. «Θεωρεί τον εαυτό της κρέας. Της αρέσει να 'ναι κρέας».

A belief in hell and the knowledge that every ambition is doomed to frustration at the hands of a skeleton have never prevented the majority of human beings from behaving as though death were no more than an unfounded rumour, and survival a thing beyond the bounds of possibility.