There Is, They Say, No Fool Like

The Candle-buds Opened Their Wide White Flowers....their Scent Spilled Out Into The Air And Took Possession Of The Island.

The Rules!" Shouted Ralph, "you're Breaking The Rules!" "who Cares?

No Human Endeavour Can Ever Be Wholly Good... It Must Always Have A Cost.

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.

One's Intelligence May March About And About A Problem, But The Solution Does Not Come Gradually Into View. One Moment It Is Not. The Next It Is There.