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.

For a small island, the place is remarkably diverse. Writers tend to see things from their own points of view, looking in one direction very much.

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.

At the moment of vision, the eyes see nothing.

To be in a world which is a hell, to be of that world and neither to believe in or guess at anything but that world is not merely hell but the only possible damnation: the act of a man damning himself. It may be

the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist.

What kind of human person has a favorite eraser?