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More from George Orwell

At 50, everyone has the face he deserves.

last words in his notebook, 17 April 1949

You had to live–did live, from habit that became instinct–in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.

It was a bright, cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever.

Inequality was the price of civilization.