His voice rose under the black smoke before the burning wreckage of the island; and infected by that emotion, the other little boys began to shake an… - William Golding

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.

And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, 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.

And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of mans heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.

..And then — that personal, that wholly isolated direction at the back of your head, that black place from which you looked out on things so that all of those people, even Toni, out there — how could the creature called Sophy who sat there at the mouth of the tunnel behind her belong to anyone but herself? It was all silly. <..> You could choose to belong to people the way the Goodchilds and Bells and Mrs Hugeson did by being good, by doing what they said was right. Or you could choose what was real and what you knew was real — your own self sitting inside with its own wishes and rules at the mouth of the tunnel.

The boys were dancing. The pile was so rotten, and now so tinder-dry, that whole limbs yielded passionately to the yellow flames that poured upwards and shook a great beards of flame twenty feet in the air. For yards round the fire the heat was like a blow, and the breeze was a river of sparks. Trunks crumbled to a white dust.

So the last part, the bit we can all talk about, is kind of deciding on the fear.

We've got to talk about this fear and decide there's nothing in it.