It was even possible, at moments, to switch one's hatred this way or that by voluntary act. Suddenly, by the sort of violent effort with which one wrenches one's head away from the pillow in a nightmare, Winston suceeded in transferring his hatred from the face on the screen yo the dark haired girl behind him. Vivid, beatiful hallucinations flashed through his mind. He would flog her todeath with a rubber truncheon. He would tie her naked to a stake and shoot her full of arrows like Saint Sebastian. He would ravish her and cut her throat at the moment of climax. Better than before, moreover, he realized
why
it was that he hated her. He hated her because she was young and pretty and sexless, because he wanted to go to bed with her and would never do so, because round her sweep supple waist, which seemed to ask you to encircle it with your arm, there was only the odious scarlet sash, aggressive symbol of chastity.
~~forward~~