From the Bookshelf of Book Riot's Read Harder Challenge…

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

He felt as though he were wandering in the forests of the sea bottom, lost in a monstrous world where he himself was the monster. He was alone. The past was dead, the future was unimaginable. What certainty had he that a single human creature now living was on his side?

How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature 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.

He disliked nearly all women, and especially the young and pretty ones. It was alway the women, and above all the young ones, who were the most bigoted adherents of the Party, the swallowers of slogans, the amateur spies and nosers-out of unorthodoxy.

'We are the dead,' he said.

'We're not dead yet,' said Julia prosaically.