I know that the right kind of leader for the Labour Party is a desiccated calculating machine who must not in any way permit himself to be swayed by indignation. If he sees suffering, privation or injustice he must not allow it to move him, for that would be evidence of the lack of proper education or of absence of self-control. He must speak in calm and objective accents and talk about a dying child in the same way as he would about the pieces inside an internal combustion engine.

Trade unions are islands of anarchy in a sea of chaos.

He seems determined to make a trumpet sound like a tin whistle.

Poor fellow, he suffers from files.

He [Winston Churchill] is a man suffering from petrified adolescence.

I read the newspapers avidly. It is my one form of continuous fiction.

Reactionary: a man walking backwards with his face to the future.