I'm Much Too Modest A Person.

In The 19th Century, The English Were Loathed. Every Memoir That You Read Of That Period, Indicates The Loathing That Everybody Felt For The English, The Only Difference Between The English And Americans, In This Respect, Is The English Rather Liked Being Loathed And The Americans Apparently Dislike It Intensely.

I Don't Think That It Would Make The Slightest Difference To Life And To The Aspects Of Life That Interest Me If We Could Go To The Moon Tomorrow, Because I Think What Really Makes Life Interesting Is The Big Question "why?"

Writers Like Aldous Huxley And George Orwell Have Imagined The Sort Of Scientific Utopia Which Is Coming To Pass, But Already Their Nightmare Fancies Are Hopelessly Out Of Date. A Vast, Air-conditioned, Neon-lighted, Glass-and-chromium Broiler-house Begins To Take Shape, In Which Geneticists Select The Best Stocks To Fertilise, And Watch Over The Developing Embryo To Ensure That All Possibilities Of Error And Distortion Are Eliminated.

When You Reach Your Sixties, You Have To Decide Whether You're Going To Be A Sot Or An Ascetic. In Other Words If You Want To Go On Working After You're Sixty, Some Degree Of Asceticism Is Inevitable.

I Don't Like Seeing People Angry.