Blackbird

“Nie wiem, czy czterdzieści dziewięć da się w ogóle podzielić przez jakąś cyfrę; jeśli się to w ogóle jakimś cudem uda, to na pewno nie mnie.”
― Marek Hłasko, Piękni Dwudziestoletni

“Wieczorem obudził go Fryma. Kazał mu się wynosić. Sokora zachichotał, związał koszulę w węzełek i poszedł szosą ku miasteczku. Kiedy był już na pagórku, odwrócił się, popatrzył na wieś i czereśnie. Patrzył długo, bo zdawało mu się, że coś tam zapomniał. Przeszukał kieszenie, ale niczego nie brakowało. Ruszył dalej.”
― Marian Pilot, Panny szczerbate

“Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?' 'Except began Winston doubtfully, and he stopped. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say 'Except the proles,' but he checked himself, not feeling fully certain that this remark was not in some way unorthodox. Syme, however, had divined what he was about to say 'The proles are not human beings' he said carelessly.”
― George Orwell, 1984

“He could not help feeling a twinge of panic. It was absurd, since the writing of those particular words was not more dangerous than the initial act of opening the diary, but for a moment he was tempted to tear out the spoiled pages and abandon the enterprise altogether.
He did not do so, however, because he knew that it was useless. Whether he wrote DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER, or whether he refrained from writing it, made no difference. Whether he went on with the diary, or whether he did not go on with it, made no difference. The Thought Police would get him just the same. He had committed — would still have committed, even if he had never set pen to paper — the essential crime that contained all others in itself. Thoughtcrime, they called it. Thoughtcrime was not a thing that could be concealed forever. You might dodge successfully for a while, even for years, but sooner or later they were bound to get you.”
― George Orwell, 1984