Dışarıdaki hayvanlar, bir domuzların yüzlerine, bir insanların yüzlerine bakıyor, ama birbirlerinden ayırt edemiyorlardı.
George OrwellMots clés hayvan-çiftliği
الغني لو سئل عن تحسين العمل والحياة فسوف يقول: نحن نعرف أن البؤس غيرمفرح والواقع أن البؤس مادام بعيداً عنا فإننا نتسلح بفكرة أنه غير مفرح. ولكن لا تتوقع منا أن نفعل أي شيء بصدده. نحن آسفون لطبقاتكم الدنيا مثل مانحن آسفون لقطة جرباء...غير أننا سنقاتل كالمردة ضد أي تحسين لظرفكم. نحن نشعر انكم مأمونون أكثر وأنتم في حالكم هذا. إن الواقع الراهن يناسبنا ولسنا مستعدين لمخاطرة تحريركم حتى بساعة إضافية في اليوم هكذا يا إخوتي الأعزاء إن كان عليكم ان تعرقوا لدفع رحلاتنا إلى إيطاليا فلتعرقوا ولتحل عليكم اللعنة "
جورج أورويل
متشردا في باريس ولندن
The stars are a free show; it don’t cost anything to use your eyes
George OrwellA man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats.
George OrwellI enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane.
George OrwellMots clés 1984 nineteen-eighty-four
Despotic governments can stand 'moral force' till the cows come home; what they fear is physical force.
George OrwellMots clés war dictatorship totalitarianism pacifism despots interventionism
He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear. But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken. It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.
George OrwellMots clés truth lonely obscurity ghost continuity
The Lottery, with its weekly pay-out of enormous prizes, was the one public event to which the proles paid serious attention. It was probable that there were some millions of proles for whom the Lottery was the principal if not the only reason for remaining alive. It was their delight, their folly, their anodyne, their intellectual stimulant. Where the Lottery was concerned, even people who could barely read and write seemed capable of intricate calculations and staggering feats of memory. There was a whole tribe of men who made their living simply by selling systems, forecasts, and lucky amulets. Winston had nothing to do with the Lottery, which was managed by the Ministry of Plenty, but he was aware (indeed everyone in the party was aware) that the prizes were largely imaginary. Only small sums were actually paid out, the winners of the big prizes being nonexistent persons.
George OrwellMots clés manipulation lottery false-hope abuse-of-the-poor
Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thought-crime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. . . . The process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thought-crime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. . . . Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?
George OrwellMots clés language devolution-of-language reduction-of-vocabulary
How could you tell how much of it was lies? It might be true that the average human being was better off now than before the Revolution. The only evidence to the contrary was the mute protest in your own bones, the instinctive feeling that the conditions you lived in were intolerable and that at some other time they must have been different. It struck him that the truly characteristic thing about modern life was not its cruelty and insecurity, but simply its bareness, its dinginess, its listlessness. Life, if you looked about you, bore no resemblance not only to the lies that streamed out of the telescreens, but even to the ideals that the Party was trying to achieve. Great areas of it, even for a party member, were neutral and nonpolitical, a matter of slogging through dreary jobs, fighting for a place on the Tube, darning a worn-out sock, cadging a saccharine tablet, saving a cigarette end. The ideal set up by the Party was something huge, terrible, and glittering--a world of steel and concrete, of monstrous machines and terrifying weapons--a nation of warriors and fanatics, marching forward in perfect unity, all thinking the same thoughts and shouting the same slogans, perpetually working, fighting, triumphing, persecuting--three hundred million people all with the same face.
George OrwellMots clés conformity
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