Quotes on 1984

Golden country Presumably she could be indisputable to find a safe home. In general you could non mint that you were much safer in the country than in London. There were no telescreens, of course, just there was always the danger of concealed microphones by which your voice index be picked up and recognized be typefaces, it was not easy to make a journey by yourself with give away attracting attention An old, close-bitten pasture, with a footpath wandering across it and a molehill here and there.In the ragged hedge on the opposite side the boughs of the elm trees swayed just perceptibly in the breeze, and their leaves stirred faintly in dense masses like womens h look. Surely somewhere nearby, but out of sight, there mustiness be a stream with green pools where dace were swimming? It was in the sun, they in the shade. It spread out its wings, fitted them carefully into place again, ducked its head for a moment, as though making a manikin of obeisance to the sun, and then beg an to pour forth a torrent of tune the rented roomWhat appealed to him about it was not so much its beauty as the air it seemed to possess of belonging to an age quite different from the present one. The soft, rain-watery provide was not like any glass that he had ever seen. The liaison was doubly attractive because of its apparent uselessness, though he could guess that it must once have been intended as a paperweight. It was very punishing in his pocket, but fortunately it did not make much of a bulge. It was a queer thing, even a compromising thing, for a ships company member to have in his possession. There was a small bookcase in the other corner, and Winston had already gravitated towards it.It contained nothing but rubbish. The old man was standing(a) in front of a picture in a rosewood tree frame which hung on the other side of the fireplace, opposite the bed. Winston came across to visualize the picture. It was steel engraving of an oval building with rectangular wind ows, and small rear in front. It seemed vaguely familiar. Winston wondered vaguely to what century the church belonged. It was always nasty to determine the age of a London building. One could not chance upon history from architecture any more than one could learn it from books.Statues, inscriptions, memorial stones, the names of streets anything that might throw light upon the past had been systematically altered. Winston lingered for some minutes more, talking to the old man, whose name was Charrington. All the composition they were talking the half-remembered rhyme kept running through Winstons head. Oranges and lemons put forward the bells of St Clements, You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St Martins It was curious, but when you said it to yourself you had the illusion of actually earshot bells, the bells of a lost London that still existed somewhere or other, wrapped and forgotten et so far as he could remember he had never in real life heard church bells rin ging. He got away from Mr Charrington and went down the stairs alone. He had already made up his mind that after a suitable interval a month, say he would take the risk of visiting the shop again. Yes, he thought, he would come back. He would buy further scraps of beautiful rubbish. He would buy the engraving of St Clement Danes, take it out of its frame, and carry it home. He would drag the rest of that poem out of Mr Charringtons memory. Even the lunatic cipher of renting the room upstairs flashed momentarily through his mind again.