Sir William Gerald Golding CBE (September 19, 1911 – June 19, 1993) was an English novelist, playwright, and poet. Best known for his novel Lord of the Flies, he won a Nobel Prize in Literature, and was also awarded the Booker Prize for literature in 1980 for his novel Rites of Passage, the first book in what became his sea trilogy, To the Ends of the Earth. Golding was knighted by Elizabeth II in 1988. He was a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. In 2008, The Times ranked Golding third on their list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945." (Click here for full Wikipedia article)
At the moment of vision, the eyes see nothing.
Childhood is a disease- a sickness that you grow out of.
He who rides the sea of the Nile must have sails woven of patience.
I am astonished at the ease with which uninformed persons come to a settled, a passionate opinion when they have no grounds for judgment.
I am here; and here is nowhere in particular.
I believe man suffers from an appalling ignorance of his own nature. I produce my own view in the belief that it may be something like the truth.
I think women are foolish to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been.
In America, health is not regarded as a right, but as a commodity to be bought and sold just like anything else. There are places where an ambulance team will investigate your financial health before it will have any truck with your physical health.
Language fits over experience like a straitjacket.
Man produces evil, as a bee produces honey.
Marx, Darwin and Freud are the three most crashing bores of the Western World. Simplistic popularization of their ideas has thrust our world into a mental straitjacket from which we can only escape by the most anarchic violence.
Maybe there is a beast... maybe it's only us.
My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.
No human endeavour can ever be wholly good... it must always have a cost.
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.
The greatest ideas are the simplest.
The journey of life is like a man riding a bicycle. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. We know that if he stops moving and does not get off he will fall off.
The thing is- fear can't hurt you any more than a dream.
The writer probably knows what he meant when he wrote a book, but he should immediately forget what he meant when he's written it.
There ought to be some mode of life where all love is good, where one love can't compete with another but adds to it.
There's a kinship among men who have sat by a dying fire and measured the worth of their life by it.
What a man does defiles him, not what is done by others.
(September 19 is "Talk Like A Pirate Day" and is also the birthday of Mike Royko.)