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Saturday, November 22, 2008
George Orwell's "1984"
Labels: 1949, 1984, actors gang, george orwell, tim robbins
You never sent (in a dream) the very form, the very scent, not heavy, not sensuous, but perilous--perilous-- of orchids, piled in a great sheath, and folded underneath on a bright scroll, some word: "Flower sent to flower; for white hands, the lesser white, less lovely of flower-leaf," or "Lover to lover, no kiss, no touch, but forever and ever this." We live in alive metaphors.
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