Chief Guard Barnes: Violence makes violence.
Alex: As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time. So now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use, like, inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on and I viddied right at once what to do.
Alex: One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was.
Alex: Hey dad, there's a strange fella sittin' on the sofa munchy-wunching lomticks of toast.
Dad: That's Joe. He lives here now. The lodger, that's what he is. He rents your room.
Alex: What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful, portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.
Alex: Ho, ho, ho! Well, if it isn't fat stinking billy goat Billy Boy in poison! How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou.
Minister: Punishment means nothing to them, . They enjoy their so-called punishment.
Alex: You're absolutely right, sir.
Chief Guard Barnes: Shut your bleeding hole.
Alex: Excuse me, Mrs. Can you please help? There's been a terrible accident! My friend's in the middle of the road bleeding to death! Can I please use your telephone for an ambulance?
Minister: You seem to have a whole ward to yourself, my boy.
Alex: Yes, sir, and a very lonely place it is too, sir, when I wake up in the middle of the night with my pain.
Minister: Yes... well, good to see you on the mend.
Alex: What we were after now was the old surprise visit. That was a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolent.
Alex: We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a night of no small expenditure.
Alex: Appy-polly-loggies. I had something of a pain in the gulliver so had to sleep. I was not awakened when I gave orders for wakening.
Minister: Oh, yes. I understand you're fond of music. I have arranged a little surprise for you.
Minister: One that I hope that you will like. As a um... how shall we put it? As a symbol of our new understanding. An understanding between two friends.
Alex: You needn't take it any further, sir. You've proved to me that all this ultraviolence and killing is wrong, wrong, and terribly wrong. I've learned me lesson, sir. I've seen now what I've never seen before. I'm cured! Praise god.
Dr. Brodsky: You're not cured yet, boy.