Sex Is The Mysticism Of Materialism And

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Have Imagined The Sort Of Scientific Utopia Which Is Coming To Pass, But Already Their Nightmare Fancies Are Hopelessly Out Of Date.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.

Secrecy Is As Essential To Intelligence As Vestments And Incense To A Mass Or Darkness To A Spiritualist Séance And Must At All Times Be Maintained, Quite Irrespective Of Whether Or Not It Serves Any Purpose.

The Sputnik Is Just To Me Like A Firework, A Rocket, A New Invention.

Humor Is Practically The Only Thing About Which The English Are Utterly Serious.

Travel, Of Course, Narrows The Mind.