William Golding Quotes

63 Sourced Quotes

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.

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. His heartbeats were choking him. [...] Ralph shouted. Hear him! He's got the conch! What I mean is... maybe it's only us. Nuts! That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum.

William Golding
One's intelligence may march about and about a problem, but the solution does not come gradually into view. One moment it is not. The next it is there.

William Golding
We just got to go on, that's all. That's what grownups would do.

William Golding
What could be safer than the bus center with its lamps and wheels?

William Golding
Serve you right if something did get you, you useless lot of cry-babies!

William Golding
Philosophy and Religion-what are they when the wind blows and the water gets up in lumps?

William Golding
Jack stood up as he said this, the bloodied knife in his hand. The two boys faced each other. There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled common-sense.

William Golding
Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!

William Golding
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.

William Golding
"You want a pig," said Roger, "like in a real hunt."
"Or someone to pretend," said Jack. "You could get someone to dress up as a pig and then he could act — you know, pretend to knock me over and all that —"
"You want a real pig," said Robert, still caressing his rump, "because you've got to kill him."
"Use a littlun," said Jack, and everybody laughed.

William Golding
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.

William Golding
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.

William Golding
Together, joined in effort by the burden, they staggered up the last steep of the mountain. Together, they chanted One! Two! Three! and crashed the log on to the great pile. Then they stepped back, laughing with triumphant pleasure...

William Golding
There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws.

William Golding
The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.

William Golding
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.

William Golding
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...

William Golding
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.

William Golding
Simon's head was tilted slightly up. His eyes could not break away and the Lord of the Flies hung in space before him.
"What are you doing out here all alone? Aren't you afraid of me?"
Simon shook.
"There isn't anyone to help you. Only me. And I'm the Beast."
Simon's mouth labored, brought forth audible words.
"Pig's head on a stick."
"Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn't you?" said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. "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?"

William Golding
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
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.

William Golding
Childhood is a disease—a sickness that you grow out of.

William Golding
"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 alright really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breath. I tell you what. He hates you too, Ralph —"
"Me? Why me?"
"I dunno. You got him over the fire; an' you're chief an' he isn't."
"But he's Jack Merridew!"
"I been in bed so much I done some thinking. I know about people. I know about me. And him. He can't hurt you: but if you're standing out of the way he'd hurt the next thing. And that's me."
"Piggy's right, Ralph. There's you and Jack. Go on being chief."

William Golding
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.

William Golding