William Golding Quotes

People are beautiful wrecks.

It is a distortion, with something profoundly disloyal about it, to picture the human being as a teetering, fallible contraption, always needing watching and patching, always on the verge of flapping to pieces.

What, if as said, man is a bubble.

I guess what I always found funny was the human condition.

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.

Men are but men; we did not make ourselves.

Poor humanity!--so dependent, so insignificant, and yet so great.

Jeezum—humans were like eggshells.

I am human, all too bloody human.

What is Man? A miserable little pile of secrets.

I'm like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world. I'm flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I'm still me.

We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.

can't blame a man for being human when human is all he'll ever be!

after all the work of the philosophers on his soul and the doctors on his body, what can we really say we know about a man? That he is, when all is said and done, just a passage for liquids and solids, a pipe of flesh.

The basic experience of everyone is the experience of human limitation.

We come into the world whole, all of us, but we don't know that, don't know that life will be taking large chunks out of us, forever.

Somewhere in the world is the most invincible man. Just as somewhere is the most vulnerable.

It makes life so much easier when you can just say 'I'm human' at the end of the day."

It's easy to forget people are blood and bone. They're not indestructible.

Don't try to behave as though you were essentially sane and naturally good. We're all demented sinners in the same cosmic boat - and the boat is perpetually sinking.

the impossibility of being human all too human this breathing in and out out and in these punks these cowards these champions these mad dogs of glory moving this little bit of light toward us impossibly.

The conviction that the world and man is something that had better not have been, is of a kind to fill us with indulgence towards one another.

All human beings hang by a thread, an abyss may open under their feet at any moment, and yet they have to go and invent all sortsof difficulties for themselves and spoil their lives.

What I've been thinking about recently is the idea of finite and fragility. Either we're acknowledging that our lives here are finite, this moment is finite, and that this whole world is fragile, or we're not, but it is really happening and that is really true.