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Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimetres inside your skull.
If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say of this or that event, it never happened— that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture and death?
‘Who controls the past,’ ran the Party slogan, ‘controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.’
For how could you establish even the most obvious fact when there existed no record outside your own memory?
sentimental songs which were composed entirely by mechanical means on a special kind of kaleidoscope known as a versificator.
‘Don’t you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it.
He sat down in the sluttish armchair and undid the straps of the brief-case.
It was more natural to exist from moment to moment, accepting another ten minutes’ life even with the certainty that there was torture at the end of it.
We shall abolish the orgasm.
