I claim to be happy with unhappiness.

"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin."

"In fact," said Mustapha Mond, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy."

"All right then," said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."

"Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind." There was a long silence.

"I claim them all," said the Savage at last.

Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. "You're welcome," he said. 

Ahh, a brave new world it is. Classic, and what truths.

As I walk through fields of red, purple, orange and yellow

Dutch tulips

The fields of northern Holland explode into a colourful springtime display.Their dazzling colours are thanks to the years in the 17th century when Tulipmania swept the globe and the most eye-catching specimens changed hands for a small fortune.

Tulips are a sure sign spring is here. And what a sight for sore eyes (i.e., those of us in Minnesota who are still seeing snow).