And I've Been Wearing Specs

I Also Know Patrick White In Australia, Both Personally And As A Writer, And Salman Rushdie In India.

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.

To Be In A World Which Is A Hell, To Be Of That World And Neither To Believe In Or Guess At Anything But That World Is Not Merely Hell But The Only Possible Damnation: The Act Of A Man Damning Himself. It May Be

Art Is Partly Communication, But Only Partly. The Rest Is Discovery.

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.