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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.

William Golding

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William Golding
Age: 81 †
Born: 1911
Born: September 19
Died: 1993
Died: June 19
Novelist
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Newquay
Cornwall
William Gerald Albert Golding
Sir William Gerald Golding
Fall
Wept
True
Innocence
Ends
Air
Heart
Darkness
Men
Friend
Wise
Called
Piggy
Lord
Ralph

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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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As soon as Oliver Twist is serialized, people who would never dream of reading [Charles] Dickens, if they hadn't seen him on their box, buy the paperback.
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And I've been wearing specs since I was three.
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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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We're all mad, the whole damned race. We're wrapped in illusions, delusions, confusions about the penetrability of partitions, we're all mad and in solitary confinement.
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I do like people to read the books twice, because I write my novels about ideas which concern me deeply and I think are important, and therefore I want people to take them seriously. And to read it twice of course is taking it seriously.
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The mask was a thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-conciousness.
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He who rides the sea of the Nile must have sails woven of patience.
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The writer probably knows what he meant when he wrote a book, but he should immediately forget what he meant when he's written it.
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As far as the novel is concerned in my own country, I think it's in a pretty healthy state.
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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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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.
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If faces were different when lit from above or below -- what was a face? What was anything?
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For a small island, the place is remarkably diverse. Writers tend to see things from their own points of view, looking in one direction very much.
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Novelists do not write as birds sing, by the push of nature. It is part of the job that there should be much routine and some daily stuff on the level of carpentry.
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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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My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.
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Percival was mouse-coloured and had not been very attractive even to his mother.
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the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist.
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Marx, Darwin and Freud are the three most crashing bores of the Western World. Simplistic popularization of their ideas has thrust our world into a mental straitjacket from which we can only escape by the most anarchic violence.
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