Quote

He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.

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
Express
Lack
Tried
Thoughts
Frowning
Words
Maze
Lost
Mazes
Rendered
Vague

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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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What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?
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I will tell you what man is. He is a freak, an ejected foetus robbed of his natural development, thrown out into the world with a naked covering of parchment, with too little room for his teeth and a soft bulging skull like a bubble. But nature stirs a pudding there.
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Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!
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I suppose drama can either take the place of a novel or can be very closely allied with it. It's quite customary to turn a successful novel into a film or a television series because you can dramatize and pictorialize a novel.
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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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I think they've got 250 languages in Nigeria, and so English is a sort of lingua franca between the 250 languages.
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I play the piano passionately and inaccurately. Indeed, I worked out the other day that of my seventy-five years I have spent at least one year sitting on a piano stool.
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We're not savages. We're English.
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It may be -- I hope it is -- redemption to guess and perhaps perceive that the universe, the hell which we see for all its beauty, vastness, majesty, is only part of a whole which is quite unimaginable.
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Art is partly communication, but only partly. The rest is discovery.
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We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?
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And I've been wearing specs since I was three.
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The rules! shouted Ralph, you're breaking the rules! Who cares?
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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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The beast was harmless and horrible and the news must reach the others as soon as possible.
William Golding
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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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I also know Patrick White in Australia, both personally and as a writer, and Salman Rushdie in India.
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The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers....Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.
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Even if you got rid of paper, you would still have story-tellers. In fact, you had the story-tellers before you had the paper.
William Golding