Character: Winston Smith

"If I could save Julia by doubling my own suffering, I would go for it? he asked himself. And he answered: Yes, I would have gone". Alas, this is just philosophizing. He knew he should answer, and all his determination not more than duty. It is the mind talking and not your heart. Here anything it is impossible to feel, only pain and only pain waiting. And besides, feeling pain, who could ask for anything, it's strengthening? No, to this question he could not answer.

Terrible thing made the party: to convince you that by themselves, the feeling, the rush means nothing, and at the same time robbing you of all power over the material world. As soon as you got to her paws, what you felt or did not feel what you do and don't - care. Whatever happened you vanished, and neither you nor your actions were ever heard of again. You pulled out of the flow of the story. But people only two generations ago this would have seemed not so important - they did not try to change history. They were bound by personal ties of loyalty and subjected them to doubt. What mattered were individual relationships, and a completely helpless gesture, an embrace, a tear, a word spoken to a dying man, could have value by themselves.

What is true now was true from everlasting to everlasting.

They were leaping round him, shouting: "Traitor!", "A thought-criminal!" and the girl imitated every movement. It was somehow slightly frightening, like the gambolling of tiger cubs which will soon grow up into man-eaters. In front of the boy was calculating cruelty, evident desire to hit or kick Winston and he knew that soon it would be his ability, with only a little growing up to do.

Just because I prefer action to inaction. In this game, which we are, can't win. Some kinds of failure are better than others - that's all.

And then you can pretend to himself that it was only a trick, you said it just like that, just would have stopped and you really wanted to. Not true. When this happens, the desire you have is. You think of another way to escape no, you agree to save yourself that way. Do you want to do it with another person. And you don't care about his suffering. You only think about yourself.

When you sleep with someone, wasting energy; and afterwards you feel happy and don't care. It is - throat. They want the energy you raged constantly. All this marching, shouting, and waving flags is simply sex gone sour.

But the world itself is only a speck of dust. And man is tiny helpless!

Authentically one: death comes when waiting for her.

- ... If I was forced to stop loving you - that would be the real betrayal.
She thought it over.
- They can't do that, she said finally. - It just can't. Say anything - anything - they'll force you, but believe it is not make. They are unable to you to climb.
- Yes, - replied he is not so hopeless, yeah, that's right. To get inside you they can't. If you feel that staying human is worth while - even if it does nothing, you've beaten them.

You realize that the past, starting from yesterday, has been actually abolished? If it survives anywhere, it is only in the material objects with no words attached to them, like that lump of glass. Because we literally know nothing about the revolution and pre-revolutionary life. Documents, every single one has been destroyed or falsified, every book fixed pattern rewritten, every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And this process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. The story stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the party is always right. I know, of course, that the past is falsified, but it would never be possible to prove it, even when I did the falsification myself. As soon as she committed, the evidence disappear. The only evidence is inside my own head, but who can guarantee that at least one more person remained in the memory the same?

They will never rebel until they become conscious, and conscious will not, until you rebel.

Not in the human brain was born this speech - the larynx. The eruption consisted of words, but it was not speech in the true sense: it was noise in an unconscious state, quacking duck.

Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date.