By George Orwell
In 1984, London is a grim urban the place sizeable Brother is usually staring at you and the concept Police can essentially learn your brain. Winston is a guy in grave threat for the easy cause that his reminiscence nonetheless services. Drawn right into a forbidden love affair, Winston unearths the braveness to affix a mystery progressive association referred to as The Brotherhood, devoted to the destruction of the social gathering. along with his cherished Julia, he dangers his lifestyles in a perilous fit opposed to the powers that be.
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'Viens, suis-moi. J'ai ici ma vigne et mon vin ; mes oliviers, et je vais surveiller l'huile moi-même au vieux moulin. .. Tu as vu l'amour de mon chien ? Ça ne te fait pas réfléchir, ça ? .. . Viens, venez tous, il n'y air of mystery de bonheur pour vous que le jour où les grands arbres crèveront les rues, où le poids des lianes fera crouler l'obélisque et courber los angeles travel Eiffel ; où, devant les guichets du Louvre, on n'entendra plus que le léger bruit des cosses mûres qui s'ouvrent et des graines sauvages qui tombent ; le jour où, des cavernes du métro, des sangliers éblouis sortiront en tremblant de l. a. queue.
« Il a l’air d’un roi, le fleuve. Il est là depuis toujours, rouge à strength de creuser l’argile, rivière Rouge, c’est son nom. l. a. nuit, il brille. Le jour, il est plat comme le verre et ne reflète que le ciel, les nuages et les arbres. Il semble ne pas nous voir.
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Extra resources for 1984
Rather than frittering away my money on trips, I’d spent the subsequent years in my own neighborhood, collecting the stories and objects that chance threw in my path or that I found in the local junkyard—a beautiful establishment whose owner, my friend Jorge Ibargüengoitia, gave me special access to for being a loyal client. Between what I’d acquired on my international travels and my new local collections, I had amassed an admirable estate. I knew that one day I’d hold a grand auction in my own house, in which I would offer my treasures to people worthy of the privilege; refined people, people of great breadth of vision.
Appearances can be deceptive, Father; I’m a stalwart man. 39 THE STORY OF MY TEETH Look, Highway, it isn’t going to be easy, but just keep in mind that the parish has to be saved from the rampant capitalism that’s threatening it. Right? And while you’re at it, you’ll be cleansing your soul. Understood? Understood, Father. But why keep harping on about it? I’m not harping on. I just want to make it clear that these people are coming to see you, and their expectations are high. Maybe you don’t realize it, because you live there inside your ivory tower, but for a lot of people, you’re a legend.
15 THE STORY OF MY TEETH Once in bed, the blankets pulled up to my chest, I reach with my right hand under the pillow and draw out the book—the way a cowboy would draw a pistol from under his pillow, but a bit more slowly. Then I close my eyes and, using both hands, open the book and raise it above my head, letting its pages dangle above me. Then I slowly bring it closer to my face, until my nose touches the edge of the pages and slides between two of them. Those are the pages I read. I often write the date on which I read them in the margin with a little note.
1984 by George Orwell