ɴᴏᴛᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

I don't wanna live in a hole anymore

You’re like Wilson from house You like them needy and broken and need to be saved

نشرت عن ميتين سنة

oh my brothers, I was like growing up.

And now I felt this bolshy big hollow inside my plott, feeling very surprised too at myself. I knew what was happening.

Am I just to be like a clockwork orange?

Me, me, me. How about me? Where do I come into all this? Am I like just some animal or dog?

Then I was left alone with the glorious ninth of ludwig van.

Stop treating me like a thing that's like got to be just used. I'm not an idiot You can impose on.

But the essential intention is the real sin. A man who cannot choose caeses to be a man.

You've sinned, I suppose, but your punishment has been out of all proportion. They have turned you into something other than a human being. You have no power of choice any longer. You are committed to socially acceptable acts, a little machine capable only of good. And I see that clearly - that business about the marginal conditionings. Music and the sexual act , literature and art, all must be a source now not of pleasure but of pain.

home, home, home, it was home I was wanting.

What I wanted was not something violent but something that would make me like just go off gentle to sleep and that be the end of your Humble Narrator, no more trouble to anybody anymore.

Choice! He has no real choice, has he? self-interest, fear of physical pain drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. It's insincerity was clearly to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.

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. Any questions?