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brought doublethink, the Thought
Police, continuous warfare, and all the other necessary paraphernalia into
existence afterwards. This motive really consists...
Winston became aware of silence, as one becomes aware of a new sound.
It seemed to him that Julia had been very still for some time past. She was
lying on her side, naked from the waist upwards, with her cheek pillowed on
her hand and one dark lock tumbling across her eyes. Her breast rose and
fell slowly and regularly.
'Julia.'
No answer.
'Julia, are you awake?'
No answer. She was asleep. He shut the book, put it carefully on the
floor, lay down, and pulled the coverlet over both of them.
He had still, he reflected, not learned the ultimate secret. He
understood how; he did not understand why. Chapter I, like Chapter III, had
not actually told him anything that he did not know, it had merely
systematized the knowledge that he possessed already. But after reading it
he knew better than before that he was not mad. Being in a minority, even a
minority of one, did not make you mad. There was truth and there was
untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you
were not mad. A yellow beam from the sinking sun slanted in through the
window and fell across the pillow. He shut his eyes. The sun on his face
and the girl's smooth body touching his own gave him a strong, sleepy,
confident feeling. He was safe, everything was all right. He fell asleep
murmuring 'Sanity is not statistical,' with the feeling that this remark
contained in it a profound wisdom.



X

When he woke it was with the sensation of having