My Father Was Very Musical,

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.

Maybe, He Said Hesitantly, Maybe There Is A Beast. The Assembly Cried Out Savagely And Ralph Stood Up In Amazement. You, Simon? You Believe In This? I Don't Know, Said Simon. His Heartbeats Were Choking Him. [...] Ralph Shouted. Hear Him! He's Got The Conch! What I Mean Is . . . Maybe It's Only Us. Nuts! That Was From Piggy, Shocked Out Of Decorum.

This Is Our Island. It's A Good Island. Until The Grownups Come To Fetch Us We'll Have Fun.

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.

Every Novel Is A Biography. Well, Then, This Is A Novel [the Paper Men] Which Is A Biography That Is Pretending To Be An Autobiography. That's What You Could Say About It.