«1984. Книга для чтения на английском языке» kitabından alıntılar, sayfa 2

raised his own glass by the stem

It depicted simply an enormous face,

stuffy odour of the basement kitchen

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks

his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind

street level another poster, torn at one corner, flapped fitfully in the wind, alternately covering and

There is no possibility that any perceptible change will happen within our own lifetime. We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone

It was a bright cold day in April,

It struck him that the man’s whole life was playing a part, and that he felt it to be dangerous to drop his assumed personality even for a moment

Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig-iron. The voice came from an oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface of the right-hand wall. Winston turned