The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labor […]. The social atmosphere is that of a besieged city, where the possession of a lump of horseflesh makes the difference between wealth and poverty. And at the same time the consciousness of being at war, and therefore in danger, makes the handing-over of all power to a small caste seem the natural, unavoidable condition of survival. (2.9.28, Goldstein’s Manifesto)
The cage was nearer; it was closing in. Winston heard a succession of shrill cries which appeared to be occurring in the air above his head. But he fought furiously against his panic. To think, to think, even with a split second left – to think was the only hope. Suddenly the foul musty odor of the brutes struck his nostrils. There was a violent convulsion of nausea inside him, and he almost lost consciousness. Everything had gone black. For an instant he was insane, a screaming animal. Yet he came out of the blackness clutching an idea. There was one and only one way to save himself. He must interpose another human being, the body of another human being, between himself and the rats. (3.5.21)
"Can you think of a single degradation that has not happened to you?"
Winston had stopped weeping, though the tears were still oozing out of his eyes. He looked up at O'Brien.
"I have not betrayed Julia," he said […].
He had not stopped loving her; his feeling toward her had remained the same (3.3.77-81, O’Brien to Winston)