They were black and iridescent green and without number; and in front of Simon, the Lord of the Flies hung on his stick and grinned.
The pile of guts was a black blob of flies that buzzed like a saw. After a while these flies found Simon. Gorged, they alighted by his runnels of sweat and drank. They tickled under his nostrils and played leapfrog on his thighs. They were black and iridescent green and without number; and in front of Simon, the Lord of the Flies hung on his stick and grinned. At last Simon gave up and looked back; saw the white teeth and dim eyes, the blood-and his gaze was held by that ancient, inescapable recognition.
Other people could stand up and speak to an assembly, apparently, without that dreadful feeling of pressure of personality; could say what they would as though they were speaking to only one person
They knew very well why he hadn’t: because of the enormity of the knife descending and cutting into living flesh; because of the unbearable blood
We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?
Caminaron juntos, como dos universos distintos de experiencias y sentimientos, incapaces de comunicarse.
It wasn’t until I was 37 that I grasped the great truth that you’ve got to write your own books and nobody else’s, and then everything followed from there.
If you were a chief, you had to grab at a decision.
The pause was only long enough for them to understand what an enormity the downward stroke would be.
Once more, amid the breeze, the shouting, the slanting sunlight on the high mountain, was shed that glamour, that strange invisible light of friendship, adventure and content.