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Together, joined in effort by the burden, they staggered up the last steep of the mountain. Together, they chanted One! Two! Three! and crashed the log on to the great pile. Then they stepped back, laughing with triumphant pleasure.

William Golding

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We’re not savages. We’re English.
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They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.
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Graham Greene at 82 years old was still writing, and I don’t think anyone can deny the force, the expertise, and the unique quality of his writing, if you take his complete oeuvre.
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We have a disharmony in our natures. We cannot live together without injuring each other.
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I know there isn’t no beast-not with claws and all that, I mean-but I know there isn’t no fear, either.” Piggy paused. “Unless-” Ralph moved restlessly. “Unless what?” “Unless we get frightened of people.
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Nothing is so impenetrable as laughter in a language you don’t understand.
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A star appeared…and was momentarily eclipsed by some movement.
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He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.
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I am not a theologian or a philosopher. I am a story teller.
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And I’ve been wearing specs since I was three.
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His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.
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Life’s scientific, but we don’t know, do we? Not certainly, I mean.
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How would I myself live in this proposed society? How long would it be before I went stark staring mad?
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We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?
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