Quotes from George Orwell

Doze vozes gritavam, cheias de ódio, e eram todas iguais. Não havia dúvida, agora, quanto ao que sucedera à fisionomia dos porcos. As criaturas de fora olhavam de um porco para um homem, de um homem para um porco e de um porco para um homem outra vez; mas já era impossível distinguir quem era homem, quem era porco.

A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation even among people who should and do know better. The debased language that I have been discussing is in some ways very convenient. Phrases like a not unjustifiable assumption, leaves much to be desired, would serve no good purpose, a consideration which we should do well to bear in mind, are a continuous temptation, a packet of aspirins always at one's elbow.

Le creature di fuori gurdavano dal maiale all'uomo dall'uomo al maiale e ancora dal maiale all'uomo, ma già era loro impossibile distinguere fra i due.

scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?

Literature is an attempt to influence one's contemporaries through the recording of experience.

Y si todos los demás aceptaban la mentira que impuso el partido, si todos los testimonios decían lo mismo, entonces la mentira pasaba a la Historia y se convertía en verdad.

We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship.

There are two kinds of avaricious person—the bold, grasping type who will ruin you if he can, but who never looks twice at twopence, and the petty miser who has not the enterprise actually to MAKE money, but who will always, as the saying goes, take a farthing from a dunghill with his teeth.

So long as I remain alive and well I shall continue to feel strongly about prose style, to love the surface of the earth, and to take pleasure in solid objects and scraps of useless information. It is no use trying to suppress that side of myself. The job is to reconcile my ingrained likes and dislikes with the essentially public, non-individual activities that this age forces on all of us.

It is a horrible thing to have to enter into the details of inter-party polemics; it is like diving into a cesspool.

Ä°nsan? ürküten baÅŸka türlü düÅŸündüÄŸü için öldürülmek deÄŸil, onlar?n hakl? olabilecekleri olas?l???yd?.

Um dos mais tristes efeitos desta guerra foi ensinar-me que a imprensa esquerdista é tão falsa e desonesta quanto a da direita.

The man who really merits pity is the man who has been down from the start, and faces poverty with a blank, resourceless mind.

What I have seen of our governing class does not convince me that they have that much intel- ligence.

Belki bir deli tek kiÅŸilik bir az?nl?kt?. Bir zamanlar, dünyan?n güneÅŸ çevresinde döndüÄŸüne inanmak bir delilik belirtisi say?l?yordu, bugün ise geçmiÅŸin deÄŸiÅŸtirilemez olduÄŸuna inanmak...

I wanted to write enormous naturalistic novels with unhappy endings, full of detailed descriptions and arresting similes, and also full of purple passages in which words were used partly for the sake of their own sound.

The fragment of coral, a tiny crinkle of pink like a sugar rosebud from a cake, rolled across the mat. How small, thought Winston, how small it always was!

The Paris slums are a gathering-place for eccentric people–people who have fallen into solitary, half-mad grooves of life and given up trying to be normal or decent.

If you set yourself to it, you can live the same life, rich or poor. You can still keep on with your books and your ideas. You just got to say to yourself, "I'm a free man in here"'—he tapped his forehead—'and you're all right.

A rose smells the same to me now as it did when I was twenty. Ah, but do I smell the same to the rose?

At any rate that year of reading novels was the only real education, in the sense of book–learning, that I've ever had. It did certain things to my mind. It gave me an attitude, a kind of questioning attitude, which I probably wouldn't have had if I'd gone through life in a normal sensible way.

it is somehow typical of Spain—of the flashes of magnanimity that you get from Spaniards in the worst of circumstances. I have the most evil memories of Spain, but I have very few bad memories of Spaniards. I only twice remember even being seriously angry with a Spaniard, and on each occasion, when I look back, I believe I was in the wrong myself. They have, there is no doubt, a generosity, a species of nobility, that do not really belong to the twentieth century.

The slum, with its dirt and its queer lives, was first an object-lesson in poverty, and then the background of my own experiences.

Animal Farm is a warning to every reader. Beware the utopia; beware the perfect solution and the easy slogan; beware those who claim to know what is best for you; beware bombast and dogma; beware the death of doubt; beware those who do not practice what they preach. Beware the chosen. Beware the one and only true path.