I Read The Newspapers Avidly. It Is

This Island Is Made Mainly Of Coal And Surrounded By Fish. Only An Organizing Genius Could Produce A Shortage Of Coal And Fish At The Same Time.

He Has The Lucidity Which Is The By-product Of A Fundamentally Sterile Mind. He Does Not Have To Struggle... With The Crowded Pulsations Of A Fecund Imagination. On The Contrary He Is Almost Devoid Of Imagination.

I Know That The Right Kind Of Leader For The Labour Party Is A Desiccated Calculating Machine Who Must Not In Any Way Permit Himself To Be Swayed By Indignation. If He Sees Suffering, Privation Or Injustice He Must Not Allow It To Move Him, For That Would Be Evidence Of The Lack Of Proper Education Or Of Absence Of Self-control. He Must Speak In Calm And Objective Accents And Talk About A Dying Child In The Same Way As He Would About The Pieces Inside An Internal Combustion Engine.

You Call That Statesmanship. I Call It An Emotional Spasm.

We Should Not Be Pushing Out Figured When The Facts Are In The Opposite Direction.