He was alone. The past was dead, the future was unimaginable.
Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime IS death.
It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.
They clichés will construct your sentences for you - even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent - and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself.
Four legs gooood, two legs baaad!
The intellectual is different from the ordinary man, but only in certain sections of his personality, and even then not all the time.