Lord Of The Flies Ralph Quotes

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.

The rules!" shouted Ralph, "you're breaking the rules!" "Who cares?

I know there isn't no beast—not with claws and all that, I mean—but I know there isn't no fear, either." Piggy paused. "Unless—" Ralph moved restlessly. "Unless what?" "Unless we get frightened of people.

People don't help much.

His voice rose under the black smoke before the burning wreckage of the island; and infected by that emotion, the other little boys began to shake and sob too. And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of mans heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.

Ralph... would treat the day's decisions as though he were playing chess. The only trouble was that he would never be a very good chess player.

The skull regarded Ralph like one who knows all the answers but won't tell.

He knelt among the shadows and felt his isolation bitterly. They were savages it was true; but they were human.

And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, 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.

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? Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?

Listen, Ralph. Never mind what's sense. That's gone---

And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of mans heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.

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.

He knelt among the shadows and felt his isolation bitterly. They were savages it was true; but they were human and the ambushing fears of the deep night were coming on. Ralph moaned faintly. Tired though he was, he could not relax and fall into a well of sleep for fear of the tribe. Lying there in the darkness, he knew he was an outcast. "'Cos I had some sense.

I dunno, Ralph. We just got to go on, that’s all. That’s what grown-ups would do.

This toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch. Jack started to protest but the clamor changed from the general wish for a chief to an election by acclaim of Ralph himself. None of the boys could have found good reason for this; what intelligence had been shown was traceable to Piggy while the most obvious leader was Jack. But there was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch. The being that had blown that, had sat waiting for them on the platform with the delicate thing balanced on his knees, was set apart.

Grownups know things, said Piggy. They ain't afraid of the dark. They'd meet and have tea and discuss. Then things 'ud be alright--- They wouldn't set fire to the island. Or lose--- They'd build a ship--- The three boys stood in the darkness, striving unsuccessfully to convey the majesty of adult life. They wouldn't quarrel--- Or break my specs--- Or talk about a beast--- If only they could get a message to us, cried Ralph desperately. If only they could send us something grownup. . . a sign or something.

The rules!” shouted Ralph. “You’re breaking the rules!” “Who cares?” Ralph summoned his wits. “Because the rules are the only thing we’ve got!

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. 'But . . .' His heartbeats were choking him. The storm broke. 'Sit down!' 'Shut up!' 'Take the conch!' 'Sod you!' 'Shut up!' Ralph shouted. 'Hear him! He's got the conch!' 'What I mean is. Maybe . . . it's only us.' 'Nuts!' That was Piggy, shocked out of decorum. 'We could be sort of . . .' Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness.

He says the beast comes out of the sea." The last laugh died away. Ralph turned involuntarily, a black, humped figure against the lagoon. The assembly looked with him, considered the vast stretches of water, the high sea of beyond, unknown indigo of infinite possibility, heard silently the sough and whisper from the reef

... what makes things break up like they do?" Piggy rubbed his glasses slowly and thought. When he understood how far Ralph had gone towards 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. Ralph nodded solemnly. "Yes," he said, "I suppose it must be.

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.

with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, 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.

And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, 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.

As lágrimas começaram a correr-lhe pelas faces e soluços sacudiram-no. Pela primeira vez, desde que chegara à ilha, entregou-se ao choro; grandes e convulsivos espasmos de tristeza pareciam torcer todo o seu corpo. Sua voz elevou-se sob a fumaça negra diante dos restos incendiados da ilha; contagiados por aquela emoção, os outros meninos começaram a tremer e a soluçar. No meio deles, com o corpo sujo, cabelo emaranhado e nariz escorrendo, Ralph chorou pelo fim da inocência, pela escuridão do coração humano e pela queda no ar do verdadeiro e sábio amigo chamado Porquinho. O oficial, cercado por todo esse ruído, ficou emocionado e um pouco embaraçado. Virou-se para dar tempo a que se recuperassem. Esperou, deixando os olhos fixos no garboso cruzador a distância.

Ralph ga pogleda bez riječi. Načas mu izađe pred oči slika ovdašnjih žalova neobično ljepote. Ali otok je izgorio kao suha drva - Simon je poginuo - a Jack je... Poteku mu suze i strese se od jecaja. Prvi put je dao na volju suzama otkako je na ovom otoku; sav se tresao od snažnih, drhtavih, bolnih grčeva. Glas mu je zaorio pod crnim dimom, pred tim spaljenim, uništenim otokom. Pod utjecajem njegovih osjećaja, i ostali dječaci počnu se tresti i jecati. Usred njih, onako prljav, raščupan i balav, Ralph je plakao za krajem nevinosti, plakao je zbog tame u ljudskom srcu, plakao je za mudrim, pravim prijateljem Pajcekom koji je odletio u zrak.

Then they stepped back, laughing with triumphant pleasure, so that immediately Ralph had to stand on his head.

But there seemed something more fitting in leaving the last word till they stood on the top, and could see a circular horizon of water. Ralph turned to the others. ‘This belongs to us.

Wave after wave, Ralph followed the rise and fall until something of the remoteness of the sea numbed his brain. Then gradually the almost infinite size of this water forced itself oh his attention. This was the divider, the barrier. On the other side of the island, swathed at midday with mirage, defended by the shield of the quiet lagoon, one might dream of rescue; but here, faced by the brute obtuseness of the ocean, the miles of division, one was clamped down, one was helpless, one was condemned, one was-

Jack stood there, streaming with sweat, streaked with brown earth, stained by all the vicissitudes of a day’s hunting. Swearing he turned off the trail and pushed his way through until the forest opened a little and instead of bald trunks supporting a dark roof there were light grey trunks and crowns of feathery palm. Beyond these was the glitter of the sea and he could hear voices. Ralph was standing by a contraption of palm trunks and leaves, a rude shelter that faced the lagoon, and seemed very near to falling down. He did not notice when Jack spoke

If you read Lord of the Flies at some point in the past, you probably remember the story’s premise. A plane carrying a group of British schoolboys crashes on a desert island. In the adult world, war is raging. While the boys wait for grown-ups to rescue them, they set up a miniature society. They elect Ralph as their leader because he’s the one who finds a conch shell and uses it to call them together. They establish groups and roles: some boys will hunt, some will build shelters, and some will keep a fire burning in hopes of summoning a rescue boat. These plans are sensible and practical, but it’s only a matter of time before they fall apart. In order to eat meat, some of the boys must be willing to kill. Doing so requires them to cross a line—to let go of all they’ve been taught and unleash some part of themselves that they never before dared to reveal. As the leader of the hunters, Jack is intoxicated by this freedom. Meanwhile there’s Piggy, the voice of reason, reminding them that they must have rules and remain focused on rescue. But it’s easier to play than to work, and being wild is more fun than being disciplined. Undermining it all is the element of fear, which trumps reason and incites panic. Soon the same war raging in the adult world erupts on the island. Children who were once proper schoolboys become distortions of their former selves, barely recognizable as human.

Simon stirred in the dark. “Go on being chief.” “You shut up, young Simon! Why couldn’t you say there wasn’t a beast?” “I’m scared of him,” said Piggy, “and that’s why I know him. If you’re scared of someone you hate him but you can’t stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he’s all right really, an’ then when you see him again; it’s like asthma an’ you can’t breathe. I tell you what. He hates you too, Ralph—” “Me? Why me?” “I dunno. You got him over the fire; an’ you’re chief an’ he isn’t.” “But he’s, he’s, Jack Merridew!” “I been in bed so much I done some thinking. 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.

After this occurs the most deeply symbolic incident in the book, the "interview" of Simon, an embryo mystic, with the head. The head seems to be saying, to Simon's heightened perceptions, that "everything was a bad business ... The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life." Simon fights with all his feeble power against the message of the head, against the "ancient, inescapable recognition," the recognition of human capacities for evil and the superficial nature of human moral systems, for which Ralph is to weep at the close of the book.

Simon came stealing out of the shadows by the shelters. Ralph ignored Jack’s question. He pointed to the touch of yellow above the sea. ‘As long as there’s light we’re brave enough. But then? And now that thing squats by the fire as though it didn’t want us to be rescued—’ He was twisting his hands now, unconsciously. His voice rose. ‘So we can’t have a signal fire…. We’re beaten.’ A point of gold appeared above the sea and at once all the sky lightened. ‘What above my hunters?’ ‘Boys armed with sticks.’ Jack got to his feet. His face was red as he marched away. Piggy put on his one glass and looked at Ralph. ‘Now you done it. You been rude about his hunters.’ ‘Oh shut up!’ The sound of the inexpertly blown conch interrupted them.

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