Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding. Ralph is speaking."Things are breaking up. I don’t understand why. We began well; we were happy. And then—”He moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing, remembering the beastie, the snake, the fire, the talk of fear."Then people started getting frightened.”A murmur, almost a moan, rose and passed away. Jack had stopped whittling. Ralph went on, abruptly."But that’s littluns’ talk. We’ll get that straight. So the last part, the bit we can all talk about, is kind of deciding on the fear.”The hair was creeping into his eyes again."We’ve got to talk about this fear and decide there’s nothing in it. I’m frightened myself, sometimes; only that’s nonsense! Like bogies. Then, when we’ve decided, we can start again and be careful about things like the fire.” A picture of three boys walking along the bright beach flitted through his mind. "And be happy.”
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding."Jack! Jack! You haven’t got the conch! Let him speak.”Jack’s face swam near him."And you shut up! Who are you, anyway? Sitting there telling people what to do. You can’t hunt, you can’t sing—”"I’m chief. I was chosen.”"Why should choosing make any difference? Just giving orders that don’t make any sense—”"Piggy’s got the conch.”"That’s right—favor Piggy as you always do—”"Jack!”Jack’s voice sounded in bitter mimicry."Jack! Jack!”"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!”But Jack was shouting against him."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—!”
Read the passages from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Passage 1They set off again, the hunters bunched a little by fear of the mentioned beast, while Jack quested ahead. . . . Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams started swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain—Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. . . .When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books—they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician, which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was The Boy’s Book of Trains, The Boy’s Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which The Mammoth Book for Boys would come out and slither down . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.Passage 2"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.”
What is a universal theme?
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