check out our:
As Clover looked down the hillside her eyes filled with tears. If she could have spoken her thoughts; it would have been to say that this was not what they had aimed at when they had set themselves years ago to work for the overthrow of the human race. These scenes of terror and slaughter were not what they had looked forward to on that night when old Major first stirred them to rebellion. (7.30)
"If she could have spoken"—but she can't. She doesn't have the words. In other news, stay in school, Shmoopers.
Frightened though they were, some of the animals might possibly have protested, but at this moment the sheep set up their usual bleating of "Four legs good, two legs bad," which went on for several minutes and put an end to the discussion. (7.36)
We get the feeling Orwell would have liked the word "sheeple," even if it tends to be used by slightly kooky conspiracy nuts.
One day in early summer Squealer ordered the sheep to follow him, and led them out to a piece of waste ground at the other end of the farm, which had become overgrown with birch saplings. The sheep spent the whole day there browsing at the leaves under Squealer's supervision. In the evening he returned to the farmhouse himself, but, as it was warm weather, told the sheep to stay where they were. It ended by their remaining there for a whole week, during which time the other animals saw nothing of them. Squealer was with them for the greater part of every day. He was, he said, teaching them to sing a new song, for which privacy was needed. (10.8)
Not a new song—a new motto. After bleating "four legs good, two legs bad" over and over, no wonder it takes them a whole week to learn a new phrase—even if only one word is different.