Perhaps a man really dies when his brain stops, when he loses the power to take in a new idea.

Always eyes watching you and the voice enveloping you. Asleep or awake, indoors or out of doors, in the bath or bed- no escape. Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters in your skull.

And it is a great thing to die in your own bed, though it is better still to die in your boots.

It was intended that when Newspeak had been adopted once and for all and Oldspeak forgotten, a heretical thought...should be literally unthinkable, at least so far as thought is dependent on words.

A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, but then fail all the more completely because he drinks.

Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime IS death.

The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun.