Ralph... would treat the day's decisions as though he were playing chess. The only trouble was that he would never be a very good chess player.

And I've been wearing specs since I was three.

Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.

I really feel the novel has certain conveniences about it and has something so fundamental about it you could almost say that as long as there is paper, there is going to be the novel.

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.

How can you expect to be rescued if you don’t put first things first and act proper?

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.