Citas de El señor de las moscas

Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.

We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?.

The greatest ideas are the simplest.

I think women are foolish to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been.

Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?.

What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?.

If faces were different when lit from above or below -- what was a face? What was anything?.

We've got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages. We're English, and the English are best at everything.

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.

They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.

His voice rose under the black smoke before the burning wreckage of the island; and infected by that emotion, the other little boys began to shake and sob too. And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of mans heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.

They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.

Which is better--to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?.

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.

The rules!" shouted Ralph, "you're breaking the rules!" "Who cares?.

He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.

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

I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe...

I believe man suffers from an appalling ignorance of his own nature. I produce my own view in the belief that it may be something like the truth.

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.

Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed and threw it at Henry-threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.

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.

The beast was harmless and horrible; and the news must reach the others as soon as possible.

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.

He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.

Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn't you?' said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. 'You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?.

The skull regarded Ralph like one who knows all the answers but won't tell.

They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as a time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten.

The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble...

The trouble was, if you were a chief you had to think, you had to be wise.

Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!.

You'll get back to where you came from.

Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!.

Which is better -- to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is? Which is better -- to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill? Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?.

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.

If only one had time to think!.

The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away. Once there was this and that; and now-and the ship had gone.

They agreed passionately out of the depths of their tormented lives.

The moral is that the shape of a society must depend on the ethical nature of the individual and not on any political system however apparently logical or respectable.

Are we savages or what?.

I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again, it's like asthma an' you can't breathe.

You're a beast and a swine and a bloody, bloody thief!.

The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life.

We musn't let anything happen to Piggy, must we?.

Daylight might have answered yes; but darkness and the horrors of death said no.

People don't help much.' He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.

The flames, as though they were a kind of wild life, crept as a jaguar creeps on its belly toward a line of birch-like saplings that fledged an outcrop of the pink rock.

This was a savage whose image refused to blend with that ancient picture of a boy in shorts and a shirt.

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.

I'm frightened. Of us.

There is nothing in it of course. Just a feeling. But you can feel as if you're not hunting, but - being hunted, as if something's behind you all the time in the jungle.

Percival was mouse-coloured and had not been very attractive even to his mother.

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

The air was heavy with unspoken knowledge. Sam twisted and the obscene word shot out of him. "--dance?" Memory of the dance that none of them had attended shook all four boys convulsively.

He became absorbed beyond mere happiness as he felt himself exercising control over living things. He talked to them, urging them, ordering them. Driven back by the tide, his footprints became bays in which they were trapped and gave him the illusion of mastery.

He knelt among the shadows and felt his isolation bitterly. They were savages it was true; but they were human and the ambushing fears of the deep night were coming on. Ralph moaned faintly. Tired though he was, he could not relax and fall into a well of sleep for fear of the tribe. Lying there in the darkness, he knew he was an outcast. "'Cos I had some sense.

Suddenly, pacing by the water, he was overcome with astonishment. He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable amount of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet.

Here at last was the imagined but never fully realized place leaping into real life.