More Memorable Quotes from More Memorable Books Quiz

Answer: Lord of the Flies

This line comes from William Golding's "Lord of the Flies". Published in 1954, the novel is a bleak meditation on human nature disguised as a story about stranded boys. Here, the children reflect on their attempt to replicate adult society, only to see it collapse into violence and chaos.

The poignancy lies in the implicit critique: the boys are not innately worse than adults. They simply mirror the same flaws and tendencies that adults exhibit. Civilization, it seems, is a thin veil; take away authority and social norms, and the same impulses that govern grown-ups (greed, power, fear) come out in their rawest form. Or to be blunt about it, adults are just better at containing their innate impulses.

Answer: A Clockwork Orange

"A Clockwork Orange" was published by Anthony Burgess in 1962, and it poses a question that's been giving ethicists headaches for centuries: is morality still moral if it's forced? Spoken of course by the prison chaplain, who is adamantly opposed to these goings on, this line cuts to the central theme of the book. Alex, the ultraviolent narrator, is "rehabilitated" by the Ludovico Technique, which essentially removes his capacity for choice.

It's one thing to be good; it's another to be good only because you can't be bad. Burgess uses this to poke at the relationship between free will and morality, suggesting that without choice, perhaps goodness is little more than clockwork.

Answer: Watership Down

What a great glimpse into the mind of a rabbit. This observation appears in Richard Adams's "Watership Down" (1972). Bigwig notes with disdain that people romanticize winter only because they're insulated from its hardships. For the rabbits, winter means scarce food, bitter cold, and predators who don't take holidays. Adams blends adventure, social commentary, and fantasy mythology into an allegorical story about humanity that's far darker (and much less cuddly) than the cover art might suggest.

Answer: Brave New World

This line comes from John "the Savage" in Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" published in 1932. Unlike Orwell's "1984", which depicts a society where people are brutally coerced into submission, Huxley imagines a world where control is much more subtle and seductive: the population willingly trades freedom for comfort, distraction, and engineered pleasure.

John's exclamation is a refusal of this life. He wants the full spectrum of human experience, the highs and the lows, even the messy parts society has deemed inconvenient. In short, John values living fully.

Answer: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

This observation comes from Chief Bromden in Ken Kesey's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" published in 1962. He's speaking of course about the irrepressible Randle McMurphy. In a psychiatric ward dominated by the iron-fisted Nurse Ratched, humor becomes a survival skill, a small but significant rebellion against a system designed to strip the patients of individuality and dignity. Laughing is a strategic way to preserve sanity when the world feels like driving you insane.

Answer: To Kill a Mockingbird

"To Kill a Mockingbird" (1960) by Harper Lee is as much a coming-of-age story as it is a morality lesson disguised as fiction. This quote comes from Atticus Finch, the model of principled lawyering in small-town Alabama. While most folks in Maycomb are content to let the "majority" decide right and wrong, Atticus delivers this reminder that morality isn't a popularity contest, and conscience doesn't care about the vote count.

In Atticus's world, you sleep better when your actions pass the jury that really matters: your own conscience.

Answer: The Picture of Dorian Gray

Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" (1890) is a loaded buffet of elegant Victorian wickedness, and this line, delivered by the ever-quotable Lord Henry Wotton, might be its most decadent dish. It simplifies the book into one delightfully wicked epigram: moral restraint is futile, so why not give in and call it living?

The irony, of course, is that the title character takes this advice to heart a bit too enthusiastically, leading to a life of beauty on the outside and something considerably less charming on the inside.

Answer: The Bell Jar

This passage comes from Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar" (1963), where protagonist Esther Greenwood confronts her own despair in stark, intimate detail. Her attempted self-harm isn't just about the body. It's about the internal, almost ungraspable struggles within her.

The novel explores the suffocating pressures of society, expectations of women in mid-20th-century America, and the alienation that comes when you can't reconcile inner reality with outer appearance. Plath's depiction of mental illness was almost shocking at the time, and its posthumous release made it all the more haunting.

Answer: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Mark Twain's "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" published in 1884 follows the moral journey of its young narrator as he travels down the Mississippi River with the runaway slave Jim. This quote comes from Huck himself, expressing one of the book's central themes: doing what's morally right even when it runs against the accepted norms of society. Similar to to the quote from "To Kill a Mocking Bird", Twain's observation is just plainspoken, stubborn honesty from a boy who may be young, but has still seen enough of the world to know hypocrisy when it comes a-bobbin' by on a raft.

The novel, often hailed as "the great American novel," balances biting satire of antebellum society with Huck's gradual realization that conscience isn't about obeying rules. It's about making choices you can live with. And in Huck's view, there's no excuse for doing wrong when you actually know better.

Answer: Lolita

"Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov's was released in 1955 and is infamous for its controversial subject matter, narrated by the disturbingly charming Humbert Humbert. This passage captures his manipulative, persuasive tone as he casually shrinks a momentous moral chasm into just "twenty-five paces," as though the physical distance is what matters.

Nabokov's clear intent in "Lolita" was crafting prose so exquisite that readers sometimes forget they're seeing the world through a profoundly unreliable (and deeply unsettling) narrator, and he often succeeds.

The novel is a workshop in style, wordplay, and narrative control. Beneath the beautiful language is a disturbing exploration of obsession, delusion, and the ways ugly desires can be dressed up as a beautiful romance. Nabokov himself was adamant that "Lolita" was not a "confession" or "erotica," but a tragedy. And yes, it's also a good reminder that "happily ever after" can sometimes be the most ominous phrase in literature.