Well, my first read book by Aldous Huxley. I was so tempted to start off with “Brave New World” but, believe it or not, the book cover along with its rather intriguing title “The Genius and The Goddess” happened to catch my eye.
And boy was I astonished by the overall deepness of Mr. Huxley’s ideas in this book.
Still and all, go ahead and size up his ideas by reading some of the quotes highlighted by me from the book “The Genius and The Goddess”:
“The trouble with fiction,” said John Rivers, “is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.”
“Never?” I questioned.
“Maybe from God’s point of view,” he conceded. “Never from ours”
“Aren’t you being unduly optimistic about experience?” I questioned. “Is it always so golden and poetical?”
“Intrinsically golden,” Rivers insisted. “Poetical by its essential nature. But of course if you’re sufficiently steeped in the tripe and hogwash dished out by the molders of public opinion, you’ll tend automatically to pollute your impressions at the source; you’ll re-create the world in the image of your own notions—and of course your own notions are everybody else’s notions; so the world you live in will consist of the Lowest Common Denominators of the local culture. But the original poetry is always there—always,” he insisted
“Fun to the pitch, sometimes, of ecstasy.”
“Of course,” Rivers agreed, as he turned away from the crib. “That’s what baits the booby traps.” He switched off the light, softly closed the door and followed me down the stairs. “Fun—every kind of fun. Sex fun, eating fun, power fun, comfort fun, possession fun, cruelty fun. But there’s either a hook in the bait, or else when you grab it, it pulls a trigger and down come the bricks or the bucket of bird lime or whatever it is that the cosmic joker has prepared for you.”
In the raw, existence is always one damned thing after another
Maybe the total reality is always too undignified to be recorded, too senseless or too horrible to be left unfictionalized.
Wallowing in the past may be good literature. As wisdom, it’s hopeless.
If you want to live at every moment as it presents itself, you’ve got to die to every other moment.
“Helen practiced what she always refrained from preaching,” Rivers answered. “It was difficult not to learn from her.”
Actually, of course, you can never make the best of one world, unless in the process you’ve learned to make the best of the other.
The strongest oaths are straw to be fire i’ the blood
I’d rather entrust my daughters to Casanova than my secrets to a novelist.
Literary fires are hotter even than sexual ones.
literary oaths are even strawier than the matrimonial or monastic varieties.
Did your mother ever tell you that the most wonderful wedding present a man could bring his bride was his virginity?
“’You kind of get used to it,’” he repeated. “Fifty per cent of the Consolations of Philosophy in seven words. And the other fifty per cent can be expressed in six: Brother, when you’re dead, you’re dead. Or if you prefer, you can make it seven: Brother, when you’re dead, you’re not dead.”
there can never be a science of history—because you can never test the truth of any of your hypotheses.
How could you feel affection for someone like Henry—someone so remote that he hardly knew who you were and so self-centered that he didn’t even want to know? You
The last word in sentimentality accompanies the last words in Machiavellian power politics and indiscriminate violence.
We practice alchemy in reverse—touch gold and it turns into lead; touch the pure lyrics of experience, and they turn into the verbal equivalents of tripe and hogwash.
Ad majorem Dei gloriam? Don’t be an idiot! Ad majorem hominis degradationem—that’s the thing you’re working for.
And maybe, she paid me the compliment of adding, maybe when I got married, my wife would feel the same way about me. Insupportable, but worth it.”
for it’s sex, sex, sex that makes the world go round—as, I’m sorry to say, you’ll find out, my poor Bimbo, in a very few years from now.
How impossibly crude our language is! If you don’t mention the physiological correlates of emotion, you’re being false to the given facts. But if you do mention them, it sounds as though you were trying to be gross and cynical
love is always accompanied by events in the nerve endings, the skin, the mucous membranes, the glandular and erectile tissues. Those who don’t say so are liars. Those who do are labeled as pornographers. It’s the fault, of course, of our philosophy of life; and our philosophy of life is the inevitable by-product of a language that separates in idea what in actual fact is always inseparable. It separates and at the same time it evaluates.
There’s a certain affinity between the more violent emotions. Anger modulates only too easily into aggressive lust, and sorrow, if you give it a chance, will melt almost imperceptibly into the most delicious sensuality
one can only record the fact that, on the verbal level, morality is simply the systematic use of bad language. Vile, base, foul—those are the linguistic foundations of ethics
In real life farce exists only for spectators, never for the actors. What they participate in is either a tragedy or a complicated and more or less painful psychological drama.
“… it is a dangerous drug,” he answered. “One escapes into reminiscence as one escapes into gin or sodium amytal.”
“The truth,” he said at last, “the whole truth and nothing but the truth. All the witnesses take the same oath and testify about the same events. The result, of course, is fifty-seven varieties of fiction. Which of them is nearest the truth…”
When the cat’s away, the mice will play. And they’ll play (such is the curious perversity of the human heart) at games which are simultaneously dangerous and boring—games where, if you lose and retire, you feel humiliated and, if you persist and win, you wish to God you hadn’t.
‘What do you read, my lord?’
‘Words, words, words.’ And what’s in a word? Answer: corpses, millions of corpses. And the moral of that is, Keep your trap shut; or if you must open it, never take what comes out of it too seriously. Katy kept our traps firmly shut.
The truth shall make you free; but on the other hand, let sleeping dogs lie and, above all, let lying dogs sleep.
One must never forget that the most implacable wars are never the wars about things; they’re the wars about the nonsense that eloquent idealists have talked about things—in other words, the religious wars.
If you’ve been saved from drowning, you remember the lifeguard, but not the spectators on the pier.
“Drive carefully,” he said as he opened the front door. “This is a Christian country and it’s the Saviour’s birthday. Practically everybody you see will be drunk.”
Hey, thanks for reading the article!
Did I happen to miss any interesting quotes you believe just absolutely have to be among the quotes of my choice above? Write away in the comments below to your heart’s content.