One Has To Belong To The Intelligentsia

A Human Being Is Primarily A Bag For Putting Food Into.

History Has Stopped. Nothing Exists Except An Endless Present In Which The Party Is Always Right.

For A Second, Two Seconds, They Had Exchanged An Equivocal Glance, And That Was The End Of The Story. But Even That Was A Memorable Event, In The Locked Loneliness In Which One Had To Live.

The Very Word 'war', Therefore, Has Become Misleading. It Would Probably Be Accurate To Say That By Becoming Continuous War Has Ceased To Exist. ... War Is Peace.

Four Legs Gooood, Two Legs Baaad!