They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.
There isn’t anyone to help you. Only me. And I’m the Beast. Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are the way they are?
Which is better – to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?
What I mean is ... maybe it’s only us.
After all, we’re not savages. We’re English, and the English are best at everything.
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.
He capered toward Bill, and the mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness.
Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet 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.
I couldn’t picture her doing anything for charity if she had to wear black clothes and no lipstick while she was doing it.
The thing is, it’s really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs.
I’ve had quite a few opportunities to lose my virginity and all, but I’ve never got around to it yet. Something always happens.
I like it when somebody gets excited about something. It’s nice.