The high-water mark, so to speak, of Socialist literature is W.H. Auden, a sort of gutless Kipling.

Men are only as good as their technical development allows them to be.

Apparently nothing will ever teach these people that the other 99 % of the population exist.

It reminded us that propaganda in some form or other lurks in every book, that every work of art has a meaning and a purpose - a political, social and religious purpose - that our aesthetic judgements are always coloured by our prejudices and beliefs

What happens to you here is forever.

Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence. In other words, it is war minus the shooting.

This work was strictly voluntary, but any animal who absented himself from it would have his rations reduced by half.