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We can’t shoot any version of Adolf Hitler, because we can’t shrink the ribbon to the point where none of us would be shooting ourselves in the back.

They were working their way towards Godhood, and they would lift up their own creator as they ascended.

You saw a spark of good in yourself, and you wanted to cup your hands around it, protect it, make it stronger. I understand that. I’m not that spark, but that doesn’t matter. I know who I am, I know what my choices are, and I’m glad of that. I’m glad you gave me that.’

“……只要你准备好面对这样的可能性：一切让你精神振奋的事情，让你情绪

高昂，让你心中充满喜悦的事情，一切让你的生活变得有价值的事情……都是谎言，都是错误，都毫无意义——那么，你就永远不会被奴役。”

Shanghai stretched out around me, dense and lavish, sensual and ruthless – a Darwinian economic simulation self-organised to the brink of catastrophe. The Amazon of commerce: this city of sixteen million had more industry of every kind, more exporters and importers, more wholesalers and retailers, traders and resellers and recyclers and scavengers, more billionaires and more beggars, than most nations on the planet.

There’d been no need for a counterrevolution – just layer after layer of carefully reasoned Newspeak to pave the way from previous doctrine to the stunningly obvious conclusion that private property, a thriving middle class, and a few trillion dollars worth of foreign investment were exactly what the Party had been aiming for all along.

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