The mask was a thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-conciousness. - William Golding

My darkness reaches out and fumbles at a typewriter with its tongs. Your darkness reaches out with your tongs and grasps a book. There are twenty modes of change, filter and translation between us. What an extravagant coincidence it would be if the exact quality, the translucent sweetness of her cheek, the very living curve of bone between the eyebrow and hair should survive the passage! How can you share the quality of my terror in the blacked-out cell when I can only remember it and not re-create it for myself? No. Not with you. Or only with you, in part. For you were not there.

It seems to me that we do live in two worlds... there is this physical one, which is coherant, and there is the spiritual one, which to the average man with his flashes of religious experience, is very often incoherant. This experience of having two worlds to live in all the time, or not all the time, is a vital one, and is what living is like.

"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."