I’ll read you one of the things he did dream of in a moment. “A man who dreams of fewer things than there are in heaven and earth,” said the Savage promptly. He was a philosopher, if you know what that was.” “And while I’m about it I’ll take this one too. Well, as I was saying, there was a man called Cardinal Newman. “A cardinal,” he exclaimed parenthetically, “was a kind of Arch-Community-Songster.” “There was a man called Cardinal Newman,” he said. “All the difference in the world,” said Mustapha Mond. “Why don’t you give them these books about God?” “For the same reason as we don’t give them Othello: they’re old they’re about God hundreds of years ago. “But if you know about God, why don’t you tell them?” asked the Savage indignantly. God in the safe and Ford on the shelves.” He pointed with a laugh to his avowed library-to the shelves of books, the rack full of reading-machine bobbins and sound-track rolls. “A whole collection of pornographic old books. “And I’ve got plenty more,” Mustapha Mond continued, resuming his seat. “Nor this.” He handed out another volume. “Nor this.” It was a small book and had lost its cover. “ The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments ,‘ he read aloud from the title-page. Rummaging in the darkness within, “It’s a subject,” he said, “that has always had a great interest for me.” He pulled out a thick black volume. The Controller, meanwhile, had crossed to the other side of the room and was unlocking a large safe set into the wall between the bookshelves. He would have liked to speak but there were no words. He would have liked to say something about solitude, about night, about the mesa lying pale under the moon, about the precipice, the plunge into shadowy darkness, about death. But I was forgetting you know all about God, I suppose.” “There used to be something called God-before the Nine Years’ War. “Well, religion, of course,” replied the Controller. ART, SCIENCE-you seem to have paid a fairly high price for your happiness,” said the Savage, when they were alone.
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