IMPRESSIVE Flashcards
In a moment the platform was full of arguing, gesticulating shadows. To Ralph, seated, this seemed the breaking up of sanity ch5
he spoke despairingly, out of the new understanding that Piggy had given him. “Why do you hate me?” The boys stirred uneasily, as though something indecent had been said. ch7
“Shut up and listen.” Desperately, Ralph prayed that the beast would prefer littluns ch10
They understood only too well the liberation into savagery that the concealing paint brought. “Well, we won’t be painted,” said Ralph, “because we aren’t savages.” ch11
“We’ve got to talk about this fear and decide there’s nothing in it[…] Then, when we’ve decided, we can start again and be careful about things like the fire.”[…] “And be happy.” ch5
looked steadily at the skull that gleamed as white as ever the conch had done and seemed to jeer at him cynically. ch12
A sick fear and rage swept him. Fiercely he hit out at the filthy thing in front of him that bobbed like a toy and came back, still grinning into his face, so that he lashed and cried out in loathing ch12
He lifted the conch. “Seems to me we ought to have a chief to decide things.” ch1
this toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch.’ ch1
“If I blow the conch and they don’t come back; then we’ve had it. We shan’t keep the fire going. We’ll be like animals. We’ll never be rescued.” “If you don’t blow, we’ll soon be animals anyway. ch5
the delight of a realized ambition overcame him […] “No grown ups!”’ ch1
Ralph realized that the boys were falling still and silent, feeling the beginnings of awe at the power set free below them. The knowledge and the awe made him savage. ch2
Ralph too was fighting to get near, to get a handful of that brown, vulnerable flesh. The desire to squeeze and hurt was over-mastering ch7
Without the fire we can’t be rescued. I’d like to put on war-paint and be a savage. But we must keep the fire burning. The fire’s the most important thing on the island, because, because ch8
found themselves eager to take a place in this demented but partly secure society. They were glad to touch the brown backs of the fence that hemmed in the terror and made it governable. ch9
There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled commonsense. ch4
“who cares?” “Because the rules are the only thing we’ve got!” […] “Bollocks to the rules! 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—!” ch5
“what makes things break up like they do?” Piggy rubbed his glasses slowly and thought. When he understood how far Ralph had gone toward accepting him he flushed pinkly with pride. “I dunno, Ralph. I expect it’s him.” “Jack?” “Jack.” A taboo was evolving round that word too. ch8
We got to forget this. We can’t do no good thinking about it, see?” “I’m frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home.” ch10
“Let them go,” said Ralph, uneasily, “I don’t care.” “Just for some meat—” “And for hunting,” said Ralph, wisely, “and for pretending to be a tribe, and putting on war-paint.” ch9
Roger sharpened a stick at both ends. Ralph tried to attach a meaning to this but could not. ch12
But really, thought Ralph, this was not Bill. This was a savage whose image refused to blend with that ancient picture of a boy in shorts and shirt. ch12
These painted savages would go further and further. Then there was that indefinable connection between himself and Jack; who therefore would never let him alone; never
Pretend they were still boys, schoolboys who had said, “Sir, yes, Sir”—and worn caps? Daylight might have answered yes; but darkness and the horrors of death said no ch12
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. ch12
something dark was fumbling along[…] the creature was a party of boys marching approximately in two parallel lines’ ch1
“We’ll have rules!” he cried excitedly. “Lots of rules! Then when anyone breaks ’em–” ch2
Jack held out his hands for the conch and stood up, holding the delicate thing carefully in his sooty hands. “I agree with Ralph. 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. So we’ve got to do the right things.” ch2
“We don’t need the conch any more. We know who ought to say things […]It’s time some people knew they’ve got to keep quiet and leave deciding things to the rest of us.” ch6
“He’s not a hunter. He’d never have got us meat. He isn’t a prefect and we don’t know anything about him. He just gives orders and expects people to obey for nothing ch8
the blade continued to flash at the end of a bony arm. The pause was only long enough for them to understand what an enormity the downward stroke would be.’ ch1
the enormity of the knife descending and cutting into living flesh; because of the unbearable blood.’ ch1
His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink. ch4
the hunters followed, wedded to her in lust, excited by the long chase and the dropped blood. ch8
the hunters hurled themselves at her. This dreadful eruption from an unknown world made her frantic; she squealed and bucked and the air was full of sweat and noise and blood and terror. ch8
“The thing is—fear can’t hurt you any more than a dream. There aren’t any beasts to be afraid of on this island. […]Serve you right if something did get you, you useless lot of cry-babies! But there is no animal— ch5
“Ralph’s right of course. There isn’t a snake-thing. But if there was a snake we’d hunt it and kill it. We’re going to hunt pigs to get meat for everybody. And we’ll look for the snake too–” ch2
“We’re going to forget the beast.” “That’s right!” “Yes!” […] “ When we kill we’ll leave some of the kill for it. Then it won’t bother us, maybe.” […] the beast is a hunter. Only— shut up! The next thing is that we couldn’t kill it ch8
He looked in astonishment, no longer at himself but at an awesome stranger.’ ch4
He began to dance and his laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling. He capered toward Bill, and the mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness. ch4
Jack, painted and garlanded, sat there like an idol. ch9
“You want a real pig,” said Robert […] because you’ve got to kill him.” “Use a littlun,” said Jack, and everybody laughed ch7
Power lay in the brown swell of his forearms: authority sat on his shoulder and chattered in his ear like an ape. ch9
He hates you too, Ralph—” […]You got him over the fire; an’ you’re chief an’ he isn’t.” […] I know about people. I know about me. And him. He can’t hurt you: but if you stand out of the way he’d hurt the next thing. And that’s me.” ch5
“What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages? What’s grown-ups going to think? “Look at ’em!” The sound of mock hunting, hysterical laughter and real terror came from the beach. “Blow the conch, Ralph.” […]“You got to be tough now. Make ’em do what you want.” […] “If you don’t blow, we’ll soon be animals anyway. ch5
Life […] is scientific, that’s what it is. […] I know there isn’t no beast—not with claws and all that, I mean—but I know there isn’t no fear, either […] Unless we get frightened of people.” ch5
“When I saw Jack I was sure he’d go for the conch. […] The group of boys looked at the white shell with affectionate respect ch8
“They’ll come when they hear us-“ He beamed at Ralph. “That was what you meant, didn’t you? That’s why you got the conch out of the water.” ch1
By him stood Piggy still holding out the talisman, the fragile, shining beauty of the shell. The storm of sound beat at them, an incantation of hatred. ch11
“What can he do more than he has? I’ll tell him what’s what. You let me carry the conch, Ralph. I’ll show him the one thing he hasn’t got.” ch11
“Which is better—to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?” “Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?” ch11
“Let them go,” said Ralph, uneasily, “I don’t care.” “Just for some meat—” “And for hunting,” said Ralph, wisely, “and for pretending to be a tribe, and putting on war-paint.” “P’raps we ought to go too.” Ralph looked at him quickly and Piggy blushed. “I mean—to make sure nothing happens.” ch9
He was batty. He asked for it.” He gesticulated widely again. “It was an accident.” …“You were outside. Outside the circle. You never really came in. Didn’t you see what we—what they did?” There was loathing, and at the same time a kind of feverish excitement, in his voice.
His head opened and stuff came out and turned red. Piggy’s arms and legs twitched a bit, like a pig’s after it has been killed.
eyes shining, mouths open, triumphant, they savoured the right of domination. They were lifted up: were friends. ch1
his eyes so bright they had deceived Ralph into thinking him delightfully gay and wicked ch3
Simon found for them the fruit they could not reach, pulled off the choicest […] passed them back down to the endless, outstretched handsch3
Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind’s essential illness. ch5
However Simon thought of the beast, there rose before his inward sight the picture of a human at once heroic and sick. ch6
The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life. They assured Simon that everything was a bad business…
saw the white teeth and dim eyes, the blood—and his gaze was held by that ancient, inescapable recognition. ch8
“Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!” …spoke in the voice of a schoolmaster
the crowd surged after it, poured down the rock, leapt on to the beast, screamed, struck, bit, tore. There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws. ch9
“Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!” ch9
dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble ch9
“I should have thought that a pack of British boys […] would have been able to put up a better show than that
Percival Wemys Madison sought in his head for an incantation that had faded clean away
there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger’s arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins. - 4
Roger took up a small stone and flung it between the twins, aiming to miss.[…]Some source of power began to pulse in Roger’s body - 11
