donquijote1954
December 25th 07, 11:36 PM
On Dec 25, 5:41*pm, donquijote1954 >
wrote:
> 's *shop. He was tired, but not sleepy any longer. He
> opened *the window, lit the dirty little oilstove and put on a pan of water
> for *coffee. Julia would arrive presently: meanwhile there was the book. He
> sat down in the sluttish armchair and undid the straps of the brief-case.
> * * *A heavy black volume, amateurishly bound, with no name or title on the
> cover. The print also looked slightly irregular. The pages were worn at the
> edges, *and fell *apart, easily, as though the book had passed through many
> hands. The inscription on the title-page ran:
>
> * * * * THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF
> * * * * OLIGARCHICAL COLLECTIVISM
> * * * * by
> * * * * Emmanuel Goldstein
>
> * * *Winston began reading:
>
> * * * * Chapter I.
>
> * * * * Ignorance is Strength.
>
> * * *Throughout *recorded time, and probably since the end of the Neolithic
> Age, *there *have been *three kinds of *people in the *world, the High, the
> Middle, *and *the Low. *They have *been subdivided in *many ways, they have
> borne *countless *different names, *and their relative *numbers, as well as
> their *attitude *towards one another, have *varied from age to age: but the
> essential *structure of *society *has never *altered. *Even after *enormous
> upheavals *and *seemingly irrevocable changes, *the same pattern has always
> reasserted *itself, just *as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium,
> however far it is pushed one way or the other.
> * * *The aims of these groups are entirely irreconcilable...
>
> * * *Winston *stopped reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that
> he *was reading, in comfort and safety. He was alone: no telescreen, no ear
> at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the
> page *with *his hand. The *sweet summer air *played against his cheek. From
> somewhere *far away there floated the faint shouts of children: in the room
> itself *there was no sound except the insect voice of the clock. He settled
> deeper *into the arm-chair and put his feet up on the fender. It was bliss,
> it
WELCOME TO THE RESISTANCE!
wrote:
> 's *shop. He was tired, but not sleepy any longer. He
> opened *the window, lit the dirty little oilstove and put on a pan of water
> for *coffee. Julia would arrive presently: meanwhile there was the book. He
> sat down in the sluttish armchair and undid the straps of the brief-case.
> * * *A heavy black volume, amateurishly bound, with no name or title on the
> cover. The print also looked slightly irregular. The pages were worn at the
> edges, *and fell *apart, easily, as though the book had passed through many
> hands. The inscription on the title-page ran:
>
> * * * * THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF
> * * * * OLIGARCHICAL COLLECTIVISM
> * * * * by
> * * * * Emmanuel Goldstein
>
> * * *Winston began reading:
>
> * * * * Chapter I.
>
> * * * * Ignorance is Strength.
>
> * * *Throughout *recorded time, and probably since the end of the Neolithic
> Age, *there *have been *three kinds of *people in the *world, the High, the
> Middle, *and *the Low. *They have *been subdivided in *many ways, they have
> borne *countless *different names, *and their relative *numbers, as well as
> their *attitude *towards one another, have *varied from age to age: but the
> essential *structure of *society *has never *altered. *Even after *enormous
> upheavals *and *seemingly irrevocable changes, *the same pattern has always
> reasserted *itself, just *as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium,
> however far it is pushed one way or the other.
> * * *The aims of these groups are entirely irreconcilable...
>
> * * *Winston *stopped reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that
> he *was reading, in comfort and safety. He was alone: no telescreen, no ear
> at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the
> page *with *his hand. The *sweet summer air *played against his cheek. From
> somewhere *far away there floated the faint shouts of children: in the room
> itself *there was no sound except the insect voice of the clock. He settled
> deeper *into the arm-chair and put his feet up on the fender. It was bliss,
> it
WELCOME TO THE RESISTANCE!