No human endeavour can ever be wholly good… it must always have a cost.
WILLIAM GOLDINGNo human endeavour can ever be wholly good… it must always have a cost.
WILLIAM GOLDINGThe world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.
WILLIAM GOLDINGThe rules!” shouted Ralph, “you’re breaking the rules!” “Who cares?
WILLIAM GOLDINGI do think that art that doesn’t communicate is useless.
WILLIAM GOLDINGWhich is better–to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?
WILLIAM GOLDINGAre we savages or what?
WILLIAM GOLDINGGraham 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.
WILLIAM GOLDINGHe became absorbed beyond mere happiness as he felt himself exercising control over living things. He talked to them, urging them, ordering them. Driven back by the tide, his footprints became bays in which they were trapped and gave him the illusion of mastery.
WILLIAM GOLDINGI will tell you what man is. He is a freak, an ejected foetus robbed of his natural development, thrown out into the world with a naked covering of parchment, with too little room for his teeth and a soft bulging skull like a bubble. But nature stirs a pudding there.
WILLIAM GOLDINGRalph… would treat the day’s decisions as though he were playing chess. The only trouble was that he would never be a very good chess player.
WILLIAM GOLDINGI began to see what people were capable of doing. Anyone who moved through those years without understanding that man produces evil as a bee produces honey, must have been blind or wrong in the head.
WILLIAM GOLDINGAnd I’ve been wearing specs since I was three.
WILLIAM GOLDINGI am not a theologian or a philosopher. I am a story teller.
WILLIAM GOLDINGthe conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist.
WILLIAM GOLDINGHe found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life,where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one’s waking life was spent watching one’s feet.
WILLIAM GOLDINGThe candle-buds opened their wide white flowers….Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.
WILLIAM GOLDING