You'll get back to where you came from.

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.

Maybe half a dozen think they are a community, but, in general terms, I think English writers tend to face outwards, away from each other, and write in their own patch, as it were.

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.

Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness.

Worse than madness. Sanity.

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.