1 The day was still cold and clear.
2 One could question him all day without getting any real information.
3 Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date.
4 It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
5 They worked twelve hours a day, they left school at nine, they slept ten in a room.
6 Quite soon he grew to have a feeling of positive dread when the appointed day came round.
7 Another year, two years, and they would be watching her night and day for symptoms of unorthodoxy.
8 On the next day she did not appear in the canteen until he was leaving it, the whistle having already blown.
9 A day never passed when spies and saboteurs acting under his directions were not unmasked by the Thought Police.
10 The programmes of the Two Minutes Hate varied from day to day, but there was none in which Goldstein was not the principal figure.
11 The date had stuck in Winston's memory because it chanced to be midsummer day; but the whole story must be on record in countless other places as well.
12 Children no older than you had to work twelve hours a day for cruel masters who flogged them with whips if they worked too slowly and fed them on nothing but stale breadcrusts and water.
13 By leaving the Ministry at this time of day he had sacrificed his lunch in the canteen, and he was aware that there was no food in the kitchen except a hunk of dark-coloured bread which had got to be saved for tomorrow's breakfast.
14 With the deep, unconscious sigh which not even the nearness of the telescreen could prevent him from uttering when his day's work started, Winston pulled the speakwrite towards him, blew the dust from its mouthpiece, and put on his spectacles.
15 He knew that in the cubicle next to him the little woman with sandy hair toiled day in day out, simply at tracking down and deleting from the Press the names of people who had been vaporized and were therefore considered never to have existed.
16 For example, it appeared from 'The Times' of the seventeenth of March that Big Brother, in his speech of the previous day, had predicted that the South Indian front would remain quiet but that a Eurasian offensive would shortly be launched in North Africa.'
17 But what was strange was that although Goldstein was hated and despised by everybody, although every day and a thousand times a day, on platforms, on the telescreen, in newspapers, in books, his theories were refuted, smashed, ridiculed, held up to the general gaze for the pitiful rubbish that they were--in spite of all this, his influence never seemed to grow less.
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