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 chats up two girls sucking penis-shaped lollies]
Alex: Enjoying that are you my darlin'? Bit cold and pointless isn't it my lovely? What's happened to yours my little sister?
[Alex has the tramp pinned down]
Tramp: Well, go on, do me in you bastard cowards! I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this!
Alex: Oh? And what's so stinking about it?
Tramp: It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore! It's a stinking world because it lets the young get on to the old,
like you done. Oh, it's no world for an old man any longer. What sort of a world is it at all? Men on the moon, and men spinning around the earth, and there's not no attention paid to earthly law and order no more.
[He starts singing another song, and Alex and his droogs proceed to beat him]
Alex: Hi, hi, hi there! At last we meet. Our brief govoreet through the letter-hole was not, shall we say, satisfactory, yes?
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.
Alex: Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep for ever, and ever and ever.
Minister: What crime did you commit?
Alex: The accidental killing of a person, sir.
Chief Guard Barnes: He brutally murdered a woman, sir, in furtherance of theft. Fourteen years, sir!
Minister: Excellent. He's enterprising, aggressive, outgoing, young, bold, vicious. He'll do.
Governor: Well, fine, we could still look at C-block...
Minister: No, no, no. That's enough. He's perfect. I want his records sent to me. This vicious young hoodlum will be transformed out of all recognition.
Alex: Thank you very much for this chance, sir.
Minister: Let's hope you make the most of it, my boy.
[about his wife]
Frank Alexander: She was very badly raped, you see! We were assaulted by a gang of vicious, young, hoodlums in this house! In this very room you are sitting in now! I was left a helpless cripple, but for her the agony was too great! The doctor said it was pneumonia; because it happened some months later! During a flu epidemic! The doctors told me it was
pneumonia, but I knew what it was! A VICTIM OF THE MODERN AGE! Poor, poor girl!
Prison Chaplain: Choice! The boy has not a real choice, has he? Self-interest, the fear of physical pain drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. The insincerity was clear to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.
Minister: Padre, there are subtleties! We are not concerned with motives, with
the higher ethics. We are concerned only with cutting down crime and with relieving the ghastly congestion in our prisons. He will be your true Christian, ready to turn the other cheek, ready to be crucified rather than crucify, sick to the heart at the thought of killing a fly. Reclamation! Joy before the angels of God! The point is that it works.
P.R. Deltoid: [giggling maniacally] You are now a murderer, Alex! A murderer!
Alex: Not true, sir. It was only a slight tolchock. She was breathing, I swear it!
P.R. Deltoid: I've just come from the hospital! Your victim has died!
Alex: You try to frighten me, admit so, sir. This is some new form of torture!
Say it, Brother Sir.
P.R. Deltoid: It'll be your own torture. I hope to God it'll torture you to madness!
Det. Const. Tom: [to Deltoid] If you'd like to give him a quick bash in the chops, sir, don't mind us. We'll hold him down. He must be a great disappointment to you, sir.
[Deltoid slowly gathers saliva and spits in Alex's face]
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.
Minister: Oh, yes. I understand you're fond of music. I have arranged a little surprise for you.
Alex: Surprise?
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.