If one's different, one's bound to be lonely. - Aldous Huxley

You've got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art.

People will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think

Millions and Millions," he whispered to himself: and the enormity of the evil seemed to grow with every repetition of the word. All over the world, millions of men and women lying in pain; millions dying, at this very moment; millions more grieving over them, their faces distorted, like that poor old hag's,the tears running down their cheeks. Ad millions starving, millions frightened, and sick and anxious. Millions being cursed and kicked and beaten by other brutal millions. And everywhere the stink of garbage and drink and unwashed bodies, everywhere the blight of stupidity and ugliness. The horror was always there, even when one happened to be feeling well and happy — always there, just around the corner and behind almost every door.