that the sky was the same
for everybody, in Eurasia or Eastasia as well as here. And the people under
the sky were also very much the same -- everywhere, all over the world,
hundreds of thousands of millions of people just like this, people ignorant
of one another's existence, held apart by walls of hatred and lies, and yet
almost exactly the same -- people who had never learned to think but who
were storing up in their hearts and bellies and muscles the power that
would one day overturn the world. If there was hope, it lay in the proles!
Without having read to the end of the book, he knew that that must be
Goldstein's final message. The future belonged to the proles. And could he
be sure that when their time came the world they constructed would not be
just as alien to him, Winston Smith, as the world of the Party? Yes,
because at the least it would be a world of sanity. Where there is equality
there can be sanity. Sooner or later it would happen, strength would change
into co
.
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