It wasn’t until I was 37 that I grasped the great truth that you’ve got to write your own books and nobody else’s, and then everything followed from there.
WILLIAM GOLDINGI do think that art that doesn’t communicate is useless.
More William Golding Quotes
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The trouble was, if you were a chief you had to think, you had to be wise.
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We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?
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However you disguise novels, they are always biographies.
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If I blow the conch and they don’t come back; then we’ve had it. We shan’t keep the fire going. We’ll be like animals. We’ll never be rescued.” “If you don’t blow, we’ll soon be animals anyway.
WILLIAM GOLDING -
Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?
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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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Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.
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He doesn’t mind if he dies… indeed, he would like to die; but yet he fears to fall. He would welcome a long sleep; but not at the price of falling to it.
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A star appeared…and was momentarily eclipsed by some movement.
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To be in a world which is a hell, to be of that world and neither to believe in or guess at anything but that world is not merely hell but the only possible damnation: the act of a man damning himself. It may be
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What a man does defiles him, not what is done by others.
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They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.
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The beast was harmless and horrible; and the news must reach the others as soon as possible.
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And I’ve been wearing specs since I was three.
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The water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble.
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This is our island. It’s a good island. Until the grownups come to fetch us we’ll have fun.
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Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.
WILLIAM GOLDING -
I’m scared of him,” said Piggy, “and that’s why I know him. If you’re scared of someone you hate him but you can’t stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he’s all right really, an’ then when you see him again; it’s like asthma an’ you can’t breathe.
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The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.
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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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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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I am not a theologian or a philosopher. I am a story teller.
WILLIAM GOLDING -
Serve you right if something did get you, you useless lot of cry-babies!
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If faces were different when lit from above or below — what was a face? What was anything?
WILLIAM GOLDING -
If faces were different when lit from above or below — what was a face? What was anything?
WILLIAM GOLDING -
Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?
WILLIAM GOLDING