Ch6

• 3.6

  Winston’s reintegration. We learn of his routine, his chat with Julia and his love for Big Brother.
• In these days he could never fix his mind on any one subject for more than a few moments at a time.
• He never named them, even in his thoughts, and so far as it was possible he never visualized them.
• He had always plenty of money nowadays. He even had a job, a sinecure, more highly-paid than his old job had been.
• All day, with little spurts of excitement, the thought of a smashing defeat in Africa had been in and out of his mind.
• ‘They can’t get inside you,’ she (Julia) had said. But they could get inside you.
• It was only a momentary glance, full of contempt and dislike.
• ‘I betrayed you,’ she said baldly.

  ‘I betrayed you,’ he said.
• ‘Sometimes, she said, ‘they threaten you with something - something you can’t stand up to, can’t even think about.’
• ‘You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself…And after that, you don’t feel the same towards the other person any longer.’
• He had meant it. He had not merely said it, he had wished it. He had wished that she and not he should be delivered over to the-
• But it (Victory gin) had become the element he swam in. It was his life, his death, and his resurrection. It was gin that sank him into stupor every night, and gin that revived him every morning.
• No one cared what he did any longer, no whistle woke him, no telescreen admonished him.
• As though for reassurance he looked up at the imperturbable face in the portrait.
• He pushed the picture out of his mind. It was a false memory. He was troubled by false memories occasionally.
• He looked up again at the portrait of Big Brother. The colossus that bestrode the world!
• Much had changed in him since that first day in the Ministry of Love, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.
• He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow.
• Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.