The book fascinated him, or more exactly it reassured him. In a sense it told him nothing that was new, but that was the part of the attraction. It said what he would have said, if it had been possible for him to set his thoughts in order. It was the product of a mind similar to his own, but enormously more powerful, more systematic, less fear-ridden. The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you already know

Reading Orwell’s 1984, from which the passage above has been reproduced. An amazing piece of literature, I regret not having read this book earlier.

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