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.

I am not a theologian or a philosopher. I am a story teller.

However you disguise novels, they are always biographies.

The greatest ideas are the simplest.

There is, they say, no fool like an old fool.

The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers....Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.

If I blow the conch and they don't come back; then we've had it. We shan't keep the fire going. We'll be like animals. We'll never be rescued." "If you don't blow, we'll soon be animals anyway.