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Maybe,' he said hesitantly, 'maybe there is a beast.' The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement. 'You, Simon? You believe in th… - William Golding
" "Maybe,' he said hesitantly, 'maybe there is a beast.'
The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement.
'You, Simon? You believe in this?'
'I don't know,' said Simon. 'But . . .'
His heartbeats were choking him.
The storm broke.
'Sit down!'
'Shut up!'
'Take the conch!'
'Sod you!'
'Shut up!'
Ralph shouted.
'Hear him! He's got the conch!'
'What I mean is. Maybe . . . it's only us.'
'Nuts!'
That was Piggy, shocked out of decorum.
'We could be sort of . . .'
Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness.
English
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About William Golding
Sir William Golding (19 September 1911 – 19 June 1993) was an English novelist, playwright, and poet most famous for his novel Lord of the Flies. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1983.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Native Name:
William Gerald Golding
Alternative Names:
Sir William Gerald Golding
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Willy Gold
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balatrto
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srrena posole
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Additional quotes by William Golding
This toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch. Jack started to protest but the clamor changed from the general wish for a chief to an election by acclaim of Ralph himself. None of the boys could have found good reason for this; what intelligence had been shown was traceable to Piggy while the most obvious leader was Jack. But there was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch. The being that had blown that, had sat waiting for them on the platform with the delicate thing balanced on his knees, was set apart.
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I have walked by stalls in the market-place where books, dog-eared and faded from their purple, have burst with a white hosanna. I have seen people crowned with a double crown, holding in either hand the crook and flail, the power and the glory. I have understood how the scar becomes a star, I have felt the flake of fire fall, miraculous and pentecostal. My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are grey faces that peer over my shoulder.
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