In a perfect union the man and woman are like a strung bow. Who is to say whether the string bends the bow, or the bow tightens the string?

It is the fear of middle-age in the young, of old-age in the middle-aged, which is the prime cause of infidelity, that infallible rejuvenator.

Today the function of the artist is to bring imagination to science and science to imagination, where they meet, in the myth.

The English masses are lovable: they are kind, decent, tolerant, practical and not stupid. The tragedy is that they are too many of them, and that they are aimless, having outgrown the servile functions for which they were encouraged to multiply. One day these huge crowds will have to seize power because there will be nothing else for them to do, and yet they neither demand power nor are ready to make use of it; they will learn only to be bored in a new way.

He [George Orwell] would not blow his nose without moralising on conditions in the handkerchief industry.

Green leaves on a dead tree is our epitaph-green leaves, dear reader, on a dead tree.

In the sex war, thoughtlessness is the weapon of the male, vindictiveness of the female.