On a hot summers night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?...No?...No?...Yes!...I'll bet you say that to all the boys. Meatloaf (paraphrased)
"We are the Dead", he said.
"We are the Dead", echoed Julia dutifully.
"You are the Dead", said an iron voice behind them. (1984 by George Orwell, pub. 1949)