We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future.

It is not possible for any thinking person to live in such a society as our own without wanting to change it.

Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal.

In our time political speech and writing are largely the defense of the indefensible.

A generation of the unteachable is hanging upon us like a necklace of corpses.

Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the English language is in a bad way, but it is generally assumed that we cannot by conscious action do anything about it.

So much of left-wing thought is a kind of playing with fire by people who don't even know that fire is hot.