At The Moment Of Vision, The Eyes

A Crowd Of Grade-three Thinkers, All Shouting The Same Thing, All Warming Their Hands At The Fire Of Their Own Prejudices, Will Not Thank You For Pointing Out The Contradictions In Their Beliefs. Man Is A Gregarious Animal, And Enjoys Agreement As Cows Will Graze All The Same Way On The Side Of A Hill.

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.

I Am Here; And Here Is Nowhere In Particular.

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.

Put Simply The Novel Stands Between Us And The Hardening Concept Of Statistical Man. There Is No Other Medium In Which We Can Live For So Long And So Intimately With A Character. That Is The Service A Novel Renders.