I have managed to make the Capitalist class pay me several pounds a week for writing books against Capitalism.
Good writing is like a windowpane.
One of these days, thought Winston with sudden deep conviction, Syme will be vaporized. He is too intelligent. He sees too clearly and speaks too plainly. The Party does not like such people. One day he will disappear. It is written in his face.
Dirt is a thing people make too much fuss about.
By revolution we become more ourselves, not less.
In the long run, a hierarchical society was only possible on a basis of poverty and ignorance. To return.