But the thought of being a lunatic did not greatly trouble him; the horror was that he might also be wrong.
He wondered vaguely how many others like here there might be in the younger generation, people who had grown up in the world of the Revolution, knowing nothing else, accepting the Party as something unalterable, like the sky, not rebelling against its authority but simply evading it, as a rabbit dodges a dog.
It is deliberate policy to keep even the favoured groups somewhere near the brink of hardship, because a general state of scarcity increases the importance of small privileges and thus magnifies the distinction between one group and another.
Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.
The end was contained in the beginning.
The urge to shout filthy words at the top of his voice was as strong as ever.
What happens to you here is forever.
Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal.
But you could not have pure love or pure lust nowadays. No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act.
His whole mind and body seemed to be afflicted with an unbearable sensitivity, a sort of transparency, which made every movement, every sound, every contact, every word that he had to speak or listen to, an agony. Even in sleep he could not altogether escape form her image.
It was like struggling with some physical task, something which one had the right to refuse and which one was nevertheless neurotically anxious to accomplish.
Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation.
The enemy of the moment always represented absolute evil, and it followed that any past or future agreement with him was impossible.
The weariness of the cell is the vigour of the organism.
What is not hereditary cannot be permanent.
D?s,ar?daki hayvanlar, bir domuzlar?n yüzlerine, bir insanlar?n yüzlerine bak?yor, ama birbirlerinden ay?rt edemiyorlard?.
Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.
How could you communicate with the future? It was impossible. Either the future would resemble the present in which case it would not listen to him, or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless.
It was like swimming against a current that swept you backwards however hard you struggled, and then suddenly deciding to turn round and go with the current instead of opposing it. Nothing had changed except your own attitude: the predestined thing happened in any case.
Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.
The family had become in effect an extension of the Thought Police. It was a device by means of which everyone could be surrounded night and day by informers who knew him intimately.
The whole incident could not have taken as much as half a minute. Not to let one's feelings appear in one's face was a habit that had acquired the status of an instinct, and in any case they had been standing straight in front of a telescreen when the thing happened. Nevertheless it had been very difficult not to betray a momentary surprise, for in the two or three seconds while he was helping her up the girl had slipped something into his hand.
What was happening was only the working-out of a process that had started years ago. The first step had been a secret, involuntary thought, the second had been the opening of the diary. He had moved from thoughts to words, and now from words to actions. The last step was something that would happen in the Ministry of Love. He had accepted it. The end was contained in the beginning.
He would say that God had given him a tail to keep, but he would sooner have had no tail and no flies - Benjamin the Donkey
Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct; nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary.
How could you make appeal to the future when not a trace of you, not even an anonymous word scribbled on a piece of paper, could physically survive?
It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.
Power is not a means; it is an end.
The invention of print, however, made it easier to manipulate public opinion, and the film and the radio carried the process further. With the development of television, and the technical advance which made it possible to receive and transmit simultaneously on the same instrument, private life came to an end.
The words kept coming back to him, statement of a mystical truth and a palpable absurdity.
More George Orwell Quotations (Based on Topics)
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