“Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.”
“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.”
“The thing is - fear can't hurt you any more than a dream.”
“The greatest ideas are the simplest.”
“We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?”
“I think women are foolish to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been.”
“Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?”
“What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?”
“If faces were different when lit from above or below -- what was a face? What was anything?”
“We've got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages. We're English, and the English are best at everything.”
“The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.”
“He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet.”
“They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.”
“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 and sob too. 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.”
“The mask was a thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-conciousness.”
“Which is better--to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?”
“Maybe," he said hesitantly, "maybe there is a beast." [...] "What I mean is, maybe it's only us.”
“They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.”
“Towards midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars. Then the breeze died too and there was no noise save the drip and tickle of water that ran out of clefts and spilled down, leaf by leaf, to the brown earth of the island. The air was cool, moist, and clear; and presently even the sound of the water was still. The beast lay huddled on the pale beach and the stains spread, inch by inch.
The edge of the lagoon became a streak of phosphorescence which advanced minutely, as the great wave of the tide flowed. The clear water mirrored the clear sky and the angular bright constellations. The line of phosphorescence bulged about the sand grains and little pebbles; it held them each in a dimple of tension, then suddenly accepted them with an inaudible syllable and moved on.
Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. 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. The strange, attendant creatures, with their fiery eyes and trailing vapours busied themselves round his head. The body lifted a fraction of an inch from the sand and a bubble of air escaped from the mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water.
Somewhere over the darkened curve of the world the sun and moon were pulling; and the film of water on the earth planet was held, bulging slightly on one side while the solid core turned. The great wave of the tide moved further along the island and the water lifted. Softly, surrounded by a fringe of inquisitive bright creatures, itself a silver shape beneath the steadfast constellations, Simon's dead body moved out towards the open sea.”
“The rules!" shouted Ralph, "you're breaking the rules!"
“I know there isn't no beast—not with claws and all that, I mean—but I know there isn't no fear, either."
Ralph moved restlessly.
"Unless we get frightened of people.”
“There have been so many interpretations of the story that I'm not going to choose between them. Make your own choice. They contradict each other, the various choices. The only choice that really matters, the only interpretation of the story, if you want one, is your own. Not your teacher's, not your professor's, not mine, not a critic's, not some authority's. The only thing that matters is, first, the experience of being in the story, moving through it. Then any interpretation you like. If it's yours, then that's the right one, because what's in a book is not what an author thought he put into it, it's what the reader gets out of it.”
“He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.”
“the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist.”
“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.”
“Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood.”
“What I mean is... maybe it's only us...”
“I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe...”
“Drug addicts are so funny that way. Just spinning around, lost in their own little world. Doing so much, accomplishing so little.”
“Quit doing your game show host schtick, Marc," I ordered. "You're confusing the vampires. They're not big TV watchers."
"Certainly not daytime television," Sinclair sniffed.”
“Where did you get that candy again?" Leven asked, worried.
"The pile said 'flavored'," Clover answered back, his face a chocolatey mess.
"Flavored?" Leven said exasperated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Clover argued. "F-l-a-w-e-d--flavored.”
“What could I do? I was beyond pissed off. Trevor not telling anyone about us was always a big issue between us. I understood his reasons and never pushed it. But when he made fun of guys who had the balls to come out of the closet? That was a line he shouldn’t’ve crossed. I hated he’d done it in front of me.” Edgard shoved a hand through his hair. “After dinner, the whole family loaded up and went to the big rodeo dance. I declined.
“I burned my bootheels getting to the g*y cowboy bar in Denver and hooked up with a dentist who was in town for the rodeo. I spent the night in his hotel room and didn’t see Trevor until the following afternoon when we had to compete.”
Chassie figured she wouldn’t much care for Trevor’s jealous reaction, but she wouldn’t be surprised by it.
“We sucked in the arena. Lost our chance for points or purse. Soon as we were alone he lit into me. We fought. Not with words. With our fists. We beat the shit out of each other, Chass. It was ugly.”
“Where’d it happen? Since you were always so discreet?”
“In the living quarters of the horse trailer. Trev said something. I said something back. He took the first punch. I landed the last. Christ, we were rolling around on the floor, bleeding—”
Edgard closed his eyes. “When we were shoving each other some beer bottles got broken and we just kept going, stomping all over them. Trevor slipped and fell and I didn’t help him up, I just kept beating on him. So he has a cut on his back and I have a gash on my arm as a memento.”
“But we can't see or feel God, Emma, so how can you feel his love? I need more than prayers to a God I can't touch, see, or hear - I want to hear words of love, see kind actions, feel hugs and kisses...
We all do, because yes, we're human beings. But we were made in God's image. ... Which means, Casey, like Father, like daughter. You want to be loved? So does he. You want to be touched? So does he. You want to feel the rush of a kiss or a warmth of a hug? ... So does he, Casey. Which is why I rushed to him when Rory hurt me and my family betrayed me. And you know what? I found a God whose arms were open wide and whose heart leapt with joy when I called his name. As protective as a mother and as jealous as a lover, this was a God who wanted me for his very own. Me - Emma Mallory! To touch, to bless, to fill with his pleasure. ... Until I overflow, spilling his love on all those around me - treasured possessions of a passionate God.”
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