1 'I hated the sight of you,' he said.
2 To die hating them, that was freedom.
3 He obeyed the Party, but he still hated the Party.
4 She hated it, but nothing would make her stop doing it.
5 Better than before, moreover, he realized WHY it was that he hated her.
6 She hated the Party, and said so in the crudest words, but she made no general criticism of it.
7 He hated using his hands, and he hated bending down, which was always liable to start him coughing.
8 Moreover she took it for granted that everyone, or nearly everyone, secretly hated the Party and would break the rules if he thought it safe to do so.
9 He believed in the principles of Ingsoc, he venerated Big Brother, he rejoiced over victories, he hated heretics, not merely with sincerity but with a sort of restless zeal, an up-to-dateness of information, which the ordinary Party member did not approach.
10 He hated her because she was young and pretty and sexless, because he wanted to go to bed with her and would never do so, because round her sweet supple waist, which seemed to ask you to encircle it with your arm, there was only the odious scarlet sash, aggressive symbol of chastity.
11 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.