I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane.
When I see an actual flesh-and-blood worker in conflict with his natural enemy, the policeman, I do not have to ask myself which side I am on.
To talk, simply to talk! It sounds so little, and how much it is! When you have existed to the brink of middle age in bitter loneliness, among people to whom your true opinion on every subject on earth is blasphemy, the need to talk is the greatest of all needs.
This is the inevitable fate of the sentimentalist. All his opinions change into their opposites at the first brush of reality.
The creatures 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.
Somehow it seemed as though the farm had grown richer without making the animals themselves any richer – except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs.
Man is the only real enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever.