As he put his hand to the door-knob Winston saw that he had left the diary open on the table. DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER was written all over it, in letter...
Winston was dreaming of his mother.He must, he thought, have been ten or eleven years old when his mother had disappeared. She was a tall, statuesque,...
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...
In the low-ceilinged canteen, deep underground, the lunch queue jerked slowly forward. The room was already very full and deafeningly noisy. From the ...
Winston was writing in his diary:It was three years ago. It was on a dark evening, in a narrow side-street near one of the big railway stations. She w...
If there is hope, wrote Winston, it lies in the proles.If there was hope, it must lie in the proles, because only there in those swarming disregarded ...
From somewhere at the bottom of a passage the smell of roasting coffee -- real coffee, not Victory Coffee -- came floating out into the street. Winsto...
From somewhere at the bottom of a passage the smell of roasting coffee -- real coffee, not Victory Coffee -- came floating out into the street. Winsto...
It was the middle of the morning, and Winston had left the cubicle to go to the lavatory.A solitary figure was coming towards him from the other end o...
Winston picked his way up the lane through dappled light and shade, stepping out into pools of gold wherever the boughs parted. Under the trees to the...