Quotes from George Orwell

Listen. The more men you've had, the more I love you. Do you understand that? I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don't want any virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt to the bones.

At those moments his secret loathing of Big Brother changed into adoration, and Big Brother seemed to tower up, an invincible, fearless protector, standing like a rock against the hordes

consciously or unconsciously everyone writes as a partisan.

Oynad???m?z bu oyunda, kazanmak söz konusu deÄŸil. Ama baz? yenilgiler ötekilerden daha iyidir, hepsi bu.

Who controls the past,' ran the Party slogan, 'controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.' And yet the past, though of its nature alterable, never had been altered. Whatever was true now was true from everlasting to everlasting. It was quite simple. All that was needed was an unending series of victories over your own memory. 'Reality control'

The work of teaching and organising the others fell naturally upon the pigs, who were generally recognised as being the cleverest of the animals.

The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labor. War is a way of shattering to pieces, or pouring into the stratosphere, or sinking in the depths of the sea, materials which might otherwise be used to make the masses too comfortable, and hence, in the long run, too intelligent. Even

You are rotting away, you are falling to pieces. What are you? A bag of filth. Now turn around and look into that mirror again. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity. Now put your clothes on again.

How could the Rice Ring go on skinning the unfortunate peasant if it hadn't the Government behind it? The British Empire is simply a device for giving trade monopolies to the English—or rather to gangs of Jews and Scotchmen.

Se volessi» aveva detto O'Brien, «potrei sollevarmi da questo pavimento come una bolla di sapone.» Winston sviluppò e risolse il senso di quest'affermazione: Se lui pensa di potersi sollevare in volo e contemporaneamente io penso di vederglielo fare, allora questa cosa accade. D'un tratto, come un rottame sommerso che emerge dall'acqua, gli affiorò alla mente questo pensiero: Ma non accade veramente, siamo noi che l'immaginiamo. È un'allucinazione.

I do not think the Socialist need make any sacrifice of essentials, but certainly he will have to make a great sacrifice of externals. It would help enormously, for instance, if the smell of crankishness which still clings to the Socialist movement could be dispelled. If only the sandals and the pistachio-coloured shirts could be put in a pile and burnt, and every vegetarian, teetotaller and creeping Jesus sent home to Welwyn Garden City to do his yoga exercises quietly!

The stuff that was coming out of his mouth consisted of words, but it was not speech in the true sense: it was a noise uttered in unconsciousness, like the quacking of a duck.

It is a silly piece of cruelty to confine an ignorant man all day with nothing to do; it is like chaining a dog in a barrel. Only an educated man, who has consolations within himself, can endure confinement.

The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron—they'll exist only in Newspeak versions

The mob is in fact loose now, and–in the shape of rich men–is using its power to set up enormous treadmills of boredom, such as 'smart' hotels.

a type hated with equal hatred by all the smelly little orthodoxies which are now contending for our souls.

A bird's wing, comrades,' he said, 'is an organ of propulsion and not of manipulation. It should therefore be regarded as a leg. The distinguishing mark of man is the hand, the instrument with which he does all his mischief.

The aim of the Middle is to change places with the High. The aim of the Low, when they have an aim—for it is an abiding characteristic of the Low that they are too much crushed by drudgery to be more than intermittently conscious of anything outside their daily lives—is to abolish all distinctions and create a society in which all men shall be equal.

The Ministry of Love was the really frightening one. There were no windows in it at all. Winston had never been inside the Ministry of Love, nor within half a kilometre of it. It was a place impossible to enter except on official business, and then only by penetrating through a maze of barbed-wire entanglements, steel doors and hidden machine-gun nests. Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards

Orthodoxy means not thinking—not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.' One

at bottom it is always a writer's tendency, his "purpose," his "message," that makes him liked or disliked. The proof of this is the extreme difficulty of seeing any literary merit in a book that seriously damages your deepest beliefs.

Quand on aimait, on aimait, et quand on n'avait rien d'autre à donner, on donnait son amour.

But, he realised, even in his panic he had not wanted to smudge the creamy paper by shutting the book while the ink was wet.

She sat against him, putting her arm round his