The trouble was, if you were a chief you had to think, you had to be wise.
The rules! You’re breaking the rules! Who cares?[shouted Ralph]
The mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness.
The greatest ideas are the simplest.
I’m frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home.
I ought to be chief, because I’m chapter chorister and head boy. I can sing C sharp.[said Jack with simple arrogance]
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.
As long as there’s light we’re brave enough.
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?
We’re strong – we hunt! If there’s a beast, we’ll hunt it down! We’ll close in and beat and beat and beat-!
Thought was a valuable thing, that got results.
