No advance in wealth, no softening of manners, no reform or revolution has ever brought human equality a millimetre nearer.

Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The c reatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

He is as antisocial as a flea. Clearly, such people are undesirable, and a society in which they can flourish has something wrong with it.

Autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably l ying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats.

The great disadvantage, and advantage, of the small urban bourgeois is his limited outlook. He sees the world as a middle- class w orld, and everything outside these limits is either laughable or slightly wicked.