1 His mind slid away into the labyrinthine world of doublethink.
2 Outside, even through the shut window-pane, the world looked cold.
3 The capitalists owned everything in the world, and everyone else was their slave.
4 For perhaps two seconds he was back in the half-forgotten world of his childhood.
5 The next moment, however, the burning in his belly died down and the world began to look more cheerful.
6 He and a few others like him were the last links that now existed with the vanished world of capitalism.
7 He felt as though he were wandering in the forests of the sea bottom, lost in a monstrous world where he himself was the monster.
8 It was enough to blow the Party to atoms, if in some way it could have been published to the world and its significance made known.
9 But it needed desperate courage to kill yourself in a world where firearms, or any quick and certain poison, were completely unprocurable.
10 They were men far older than himself, relics of the ancient world, almost the last great figures left over from the heroic days of the Party.
11 The landscape that he was looking at recurred so often in his dreams that he was never fully certain whether or not he had seen it in the real world.
12 But in effect it was unanswerable even now, since the few scattered survivors from the ancient world were incapable of comparing one age with another.
13 Most of the material that you were dealing with had no connexion with anything in the real world, not even the kind of connexion that is contained in a direct lie.
14 Thus, at one moment Winston's hatred was not turned against Goldstein at all, but, on the contrary, against Big Brother, the Party, and the Thought Police; and at such moments his heart went out to the lonely, derided heretic on the screen, sole guardian of truth and sanity in a world of lies.
15 His exploits had been gradually pushed backwards in time until already they extended into the fabulous world of the forties and the thirties, when the capitalists in their strange cylindrical hats still rode through the streets of London in great gleaming motor-cars or horse carriages with glass sides.
16 He wondered vaguely how many others like her there might be in the younger generation people who had grown up in the world of the Revolution, knowing nothing else, accepting the Party as something unalterable, like the sky, not rebelling against its authority but simply evading it, as a rabbit dodges a dog.
17 The ideal set up by the Party was something huge, terrible, and glittering--a world of steel and concrete, of monstrous machines and terrifying weapons--a nation of warriors and fanatics, marching forward in perfect unity, all thinking the same thoughts and shouting the same slogans, perpetually working, fighting, triumphing, persecuting--three hundred million people all with the same face.
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