Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Anything might be done in that time. Anything. Nothing. Oh, he had had hundreds of hours, and what had he done with them? Wasted them, spilt the precious minutes as though his reservoir… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
“Unorthodoxy threatens more than the life of a mere individual; it strikes at Society itself.” — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
Man has an almost infinite capacity for taking things and people for granted and thereby missing out on the pleasure of being grateful that… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
My fate cannot be mastered; it can only be collaborated with and thereby, to some extent, directed. Nor am I the captain of my… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness. — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
Of course the Dharma-body of the Buddha was the hedge at the bottom of the garden. At the same time, and no less obviously,… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
“The question for the man of sense is: Do we or do we not want to go to hell? And his answer is: No,… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
Thought of the incomprehensible sequence of changes and chances that make up a life, all the beauties and horrors and absurdities whose conjunctions create… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
The third petition of the Lord's Prayer is repeated daily by millions who have not the slightest intention of letting anyone's will be done… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
“Then what’s time for?” asked Lenina in some astonishment. Apparently, for going on walks in the Lake District; for that was what he now… — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
All right then," said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy. — Aldous Huxley Copy Share Image
