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"Well well well. What makes, bratty. What gives, this fine bright
middle of the nochy?" He said:
"I'll give you just ten seconds to wipe that stupid grin off of your
face. Then I want you to listen."
"Well, what?" I said, smecking. "Are you not satisfied with beating me
near to death and having me spat upon and making me confess to crimes for
hours on end and then shoving me among bezoomnies and vonny perverts in that
grahzny cell? Have you some new torture for me, you bratchny?"
"It'll be your own torture," he said, serious. "I hope to God it'll
torture you to madness."
And then, before he told me, I knew what it was. The old ptitsa who had
all the kots and koshkas had passed on to a better world in one of the city
hospitals. I'd cracked her a bit too hard, like. Well, well, that was
everything. I thought of all those kots and koshkas mewling for moloko and
getting none, not any more from their starry forella of a mistress. That was
everything. I'd done the lot, now and me still only fifteen.
About Anthony Burgess
Anthony Burgess (25 February 1917 – 22 November 1993) was an English writer and composer whose novels include the Malayan trilogy, A Clockwork Orange, the Enderby cycle, Nothing Like The Sun, Earthly Powers and The Kingdom Of The Wicked. He also produced critical works on Joyce, Lawrence, Hemingway and Shakespeare, and studies of language and of pornography.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Shorter versions of this quote
And then, before he told me, I knew what it was. The old ptitsa who had
all the kots and koshkas had passed on to a better world in one of the city
hospitals. I'd cracked her a bit too hard, like. Well, well, that was
everything. I thought of all those kots and koshkas mewling for moloko and
getting none, not any more from their starry forella of a mistress. That was
everything. I'd done the lot, now and me still only fifteen.
Additional quotes by Anthony Burgess
We all need money, but there are degrees of desperation.
Сын, сын, мой сын. У меня будет сын, и я объясню ему все это, когда он подрастет и сможет понять меня. Однако только лишь подумав это, я уже знал: никогда он не поймет, да и не захочет он ничего понимать, а делать будет все те же vestshi, которые и я делал, – да-да, он, может быть, даже убьет какую-нибудь старую ptitsu, окруженную мяукающими kotami и koshkami, и я не смогу остановить его. А он не сможет остановить своего сына. И так по кругу до самого конца света – по кругу, по кругу, по кругу, будто какой-то огромный великан, какой-нибудь Бог или Gospodd (спасибо бару «Korova») все крутит и крутит в огромных своих ручищах voniutshi griaznyi апельсин.
Our subject is, you see, impelled towards the good by, paradoxically, being impelled towards evil. The intention to act violently is accompanied by strong feelings of physical distress. To counter these the subject has to switch to a diametrically opposed attitude.