My missing parents

Last night I had a dream of my mother and father. I must have been ten or eleven years old when she disappeared I had vivid dreams of her she was a tall, statuesque, rather silent women with slow movements and magnificent hair.  I remembered my father more vaguely than my mother but he was dark and thin, dressed always in neat dark cloths, I especially remember his very thin soled shoes and him wearing his spectacles. Both of them must have been swallowed up by one of the first purges of the 'fifty’s.

Pg. 31

The Ministries

The ministry of truth was greatly different from any other building in sight. It was an enormous pyramidal structure of shiny white concrete, soaring up, floor after floor , three hundred meters into the air. From the ground it was barley possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the slogan of the party

War is Peace

Freedom is Slavery

Ignorance is strength

The ministry of truth contained, it was said, 3000 rooms above ground level, and corresponding amount of rooms below. Scattered about London there were just 3 other buildings of similar appearance and size. So they completely minimized the surrounding buildings from the roof of Victory Mansions you could see all 4 of them simultaneously. They were the homes of the 4 Ministries between which the entire government was divided. The ministry of truth, which concerned itself with news, entertainment, education and the fine arts. The ministry of peace, which concerned itself with war. The ministry of love, which maintained law and order. And the ministry of plenty which was responsible for economic affairs.

Pg. 5-6

The woman of my dreams

At the two minutes of hate I met a dark-haired girl which was sat behind me she was vivid and beautiful. I had beautiful hallucinations of her. I would flog her to death with a rubber truncheon. I would tie her naked to a stake and shoot her full of arrows like St Sebastian. I would ravish her and cut her throat at the moment of climax. I later realized why I hated her she was young, sexless and pretty, and because I wanted to go to bed with her and I would never be able to do so.

Pg. 17

April 4th, 1984

Last night I went to the movies. All the movies were war films. One very good one of a ship full of refugees being bombed somewhere in the Mediterranean. The audience was much amused by shots of a great huge fat man trying to swim away with a helicopter chasing after him. First you saw him wallowing along in the water like a porpoise, then you saw him through the helicopters gun sights, then he was full of holes and the sea round him turned pink and he sank as suddenly as though the holes had let in the water. Audience shouting with laughter when he sank. Then you saw a lifeboat full of children with a helicopter hovering over it. There was a middle-aged women might have been a Jewess sitting up in the bow with a little boy about three years old in her arms. The little boy screaming with fright and hiding his head between her breasts as if he was trying to burrow right into her and the women putting her arms round him and comforting him although she was blue with fright herself, all the time covering him up as much as possible as if she thought her arms could ward off the bullets. Then the helicopter planted a 20 kilo bomb in among them terrific flash and the boat went all to matchwood. Then there was a wonderful shot of a child's arm going up right up into the air a helicopter with a camera in its nose must have followed it up and there was a lot of applause from the party seats but a women down in the prole part of the house suddenly started kicking up a fuss and shouting they didn't ought of showed it not in front of my kids they didn't it ain’t right not in front of my kids it ain’t until the police turned her turned her out I don't suppose anything happened to her nobody cares what proles say typical prole reaction.

Pg. 10-11

Two Minutes Of Hate

Another two minutes of hate for the day, why does everyone get so mad at Goldstein I say "Down with Big Brother". They keep trying to make us believe that War is peace, Freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength which is such a stupid concept I'm done being bossed around and being told when to feel or have emotions. Although thought-crime was not a thing which could be hidden forever.

DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER

DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER

DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER

They'll shoot me I don't care they'll shoot me in the back of the head I don't care down with big brother they always shoot you in the back of the head I don't care down with big brother.

Thought-crime does not entail death: Thought-crime is death.

To the future or to the past, too a time when thought is free, when men are different from one another and do not live alone-to a time when truth exists and what is done cannot be undone: From the age of uniformity, from the age of solitude, from the age of Big Brother, from the age of double think-Greetings.

Pg. 13-30