I never liked Malcolm Muggeridge. In my childhood he was the editor of Punch, which led me to the erroneous conjecture that the British didn't do humor any better than they spelled it. In his later years he decided he hadn't really liked sex anyway and no one else should. Scott Alexander makes him sound more interesting and offers an inspiring thought:
One day we shall bring forth a new species of man free from utopian desires and cleansed of belief in human perfectibility.