“...out from the door of the farmhouse came a long file of pigs, all
walking on their hind legs...out came Napoleon himself, majestically
upright, casting haughty glances from side to side, and with his dogs
gambolling round him.
He carried a whip in his trotter.
There
was a deadly silence. Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the animals
watched the long line of pigs march slowly round the yard. It was as
though the world had turned upside-down. Then there came a moment when
the first shock had worn off and when, in spite of everything-in spite
of their terror of the dogs, and of the habit, developed through long
years, of never complaining, never criticising, no matter what
happened-they might have uttered some word of protest. But just at that
moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous
bleating of-
"Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better!"
It
went on for five minutes without stopping. And by the time the sheep
had quieted down, the chance to utter any protest had passed, for the
pigs had marched back into the farmhouse.”
?
George Orwell,
Animal Farm
