Frasi di William Golding

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William Golding

Data di nascita: 19. Settembre 1911
Data di morte: 19. Giugno 1993
Altri nomi: ویلیام قلدینق, Golding Uilyam, 威廉高汀

Sir William Gerald Golding è stato uno scrittore e insegnante britannico.

Fu insignito del Premio Nobel per la letteratura nel 1983.

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„Le più grandi idee sono le più semplici.“

—  William Golding

Origine: Il Signore delle Mosche, p. 152

„"Tu sei uno sciocco" diceva il Signore delle Mosche "nient'altro che uno sciocco, un ignorante." Simone mosse la lingua, ch'era tutta gonfia, ma non disse nulla. "Non ti pare?" disse il Signore delle Mosche "non sei uno sciocco e basta?" Simone gli rispose con la stessa voce senza suono. "E allora" disse il Signore delle Mosche "faresti meglio a correr via e a giocare con gli altri. Credono che tu sia un po' tocco. Tu non vuoi mica che Ralph creda che tu sia un po' tocco, no? Ti è simpatico Ralph, no? E anche Piggy, anche Jack, no?" La testa di Simone era alzata un po' in su. I suoi occhi non si potevano staccare dal Signore delle Mosche sospeso nel vuoto davanti a lui. "Che cosa stai a fare qui tutto solo? Non ti faccio paura?" Simone ebbe un sussulto. "Non c'è nessuno che ti possa dare aiuto. Solo io. E io sono la Bestia." La bocca di Simone si aprì a fatica e vennero fuori delle parole comprensibili: "Una testa di maiale su un palo." "Che idea pensare che la Bestia fosse qualcosa che si potesse cacciare e ucciddere!" disse la testa di maiale. Per un po' la foresta e tutti gli altri posti che si potevano appena vedere risuonarono della parodia di una risata. "Lo sapevi no?.. che io sono una parte di te? Vieni vicino, vicino, vicino. Che io sono la ragione per cui non c'è niente da fare? Per cui le cose vanno come vanno?" La risata echeggiò di nuovo. "Su" disse il Signore delle Mosche ".. torna dagli altri, e dimenticheremo tutto quanto." La testa di Simone girava, scoppiava. I suoi occhi erano semichiusi, come se imitassero quella cosa oscena sul palo. Egli sapeva che stava per venirgli uno dei suoi accessi. Il Signore delle Mosche si gonfiava come un pallone. "Questo è ridicolo. Tu sai benissimo che non mi incontrerai altro che lì.. dunque non cercare di fuggire." Il corpo di Simone era inarcato e rigido. Il Signore delle Mosche parlava con la voce d'un maestro di scuola. "Questo scherzo è durato abbastanza, davvero. Mio povero bambino traviato, credi di saperne più di me?" Ci fu una pausa. "Ti metto in guardia. Sto per perdere la pazienza. Non vedi? Non c'è posto, per te. Capito? Su quest'isola ci divertiremo. Capito? Su quest'isola ci divertiremo. Dunque non provarci nemmeno, mio povero ragazzo traviato, altrimenti.. " Simone si accorse che stava guardando dentro una gran bocca. Dentro c'era buio, un buio, che dilagava. "Altrimenti.." disse il Signore delle Mosche "ti faremo fuori. Capisci? Jack e Ruggero e Maurizio e Roberto e Guglielmo e Piggy e Ralph. Ti faremo fuori. Capisci?" Simone era dentro la bocca. Cadde e perse coscienza.“

—  William Golding, libro Il signore delle mosche

Origine: Il Signore delle Mosche, p. 168 "Il signore delle mosche" edizione oscar mondadori

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„I have had to rely on memories of moments, bet on what once seemed a certainty but may now be an outsider, remember in faith what I cannot recreate.“

—  William Golding

"Belief and Creativity" Address in Hamburg (11 April 1980); as quoted in Moving Target https://books.google.com.mx/books?id=2SwUAAAAQBAJ&source=gbs_navlinks_s (2013), Faber & Faber
Contesto: Reason, when it is refined into logic, has something to offer but only in terms of itself and depends for its effect and use on the nature of the premise. That useful argument as to how many angels can stand on the point of a needle would turn into nothing without the concept of angels. I took a further step into my new world. I formulated what I had felt against a mass of reasonable evidence and saw that to explain the near infinite mysteries of life by scholastic Darwinism, by the doctrine of natural selection, was like looking at a sunset and saying "Someone has struck a match". As for Freud, the reductionism of his system made me remember the refrain out of Marianna in Moated Grande — "He cometh not, she said, she said I am aweary aweary, O God that I were dead!". This was my mind, not his, and I had a right to it....
We question free will, doubt it, dismiss it, experience it. We declare our own triviality on a small speck of dirt circling a small star at the rim of one countless galaxies and ignore the heroic insolence of the declaration. We have diminished the world of God and man in a universe ablaze with all the glories that contradict that diminution.
Of man and God. We have come to it, have we not? I believe in God; and you may think to yourselves — here is a man who has left a procession and gone off by himself only to end with another gasfilled image he towns round with him at the end of the rope. You would be right of course. I suffer those varying levels or intensities of belief which are, it seems, the human condition. Despite the letters I still get from people who believe me to be still alive and who are deceived by the air of confident authority that seems to stand behind that first book, Lord of the Flies, nevertheless like everyone else I have had to rely on memories of moments, bet on what once seemed a certainty but may now be an outsider, remember in faith what I cannot recreate.

„Fortunately some spirit or other — I do not presume to put a name to it — ensured that I should remember my smallness in the scheme of things.“

—  William Golding

Nobel prize lecture (1983)
Contesto: While it may be proper to praise the idea of a laureate the man himself may very well remember what his laurels will hide and that not only baldness. In a sentence he must remember not to take himself with unbecoming seriousness. Fortunately some spirit or other — I do not presume to put a name to it — ensured that I should remember my smallness in the scheme of things. The very day after I learned that I was the laureate for literature for 1983 I drove into a country town and parked my car where I should not. I only left the car for a few minutes but when I came back there was a ticket taped to the window. A traffic warden, a lady of a minatory aspect, stood by the car. She pointed to a notice on the wall. "Can't you read?" she said. Sheepishly I got into my car and drove very slowly round the corner. There on the pavement I saw two county policemen.
I stopped opposite them and took my parking ticket out of its plastic envelope. They crossed to me. I asked if, as I had pressing business, I could go straight to the Town Hall and pay my fine on the spot. "No, sir," said the senior policeman, "I'm afraid you can't do that." He smiled the fond smile that such policemen reserve for those people who are clearly harmless if a bit silly. He indicated a rectangle on the ticket that had the words 'name and address of sender' printed above it. "You should write your name and address in that place," he said. "You make out a cheque for ten pounds, making it payable to the Clerk to the Justices at this address written here. Then you write the same address on the outside of the envelope, stick a sixteen penny stamp in the top right hand corner of the envelope, then post it. And may we congratulate you on winning the Nobel Prize for Literature."

„I believed then, that man was sick — not exceptional man, but average man. I believed that the condition of man was to be a morally diseased creation and that the best job I could do at the time was to trace the connection between his diseased nature and the international mess he gets himself into. To many of you, this will seem trite, obvious, and familiar in theological terms. Man is a fallen being. He is gripped by original sin. His nature is sinful and his state is perilous.“

—  William Golding

On his motivations to write Lord of the Flies, from his essay "Fable", p. 85
The Hot Gates (1965)
Contesto: The overall intention may be stated simply enough. Before the Second World War I believed in the perfectibility of social man; that a correct structure of society would produce goodwill; and that therefore you could remove all social ills by a reorganisation of society..... but after the war I did not because I was unable to. I had discovered what one man could do to another... I must say that anyone who moved through those years without understanding that man produces evil as a bee produces honey, must have been blind or wrong in the head... I am thinking of the vileness beyond all words that went on, year after year, in the totalitarian states. It is bad enough to say that so many Jews were exterminated in this way and that, so many people liquidated — lovely, elegant word — but there were things done during that period from which I still have to avert my mind less I should be physically sick. They were not done by the headhunters of New Guinea or by some primitive tribe in the Amazon. They were done, skillfully, coldly, by educated men, doctors, lawyers, by men with a tradition of civilization behind them, to beings of their own kind.
My own conviction grew that what had happened was that men were putting the cart before the horse. They were looking at the system rather than the people. It seemed to me that man’s capacity for greed, his innate cruelty and selfishness, was being hidden behind a kind of pair of political pants. I believed then, that man was sick — not exceptional man, but average man. I believed that the condition of man was to be a morally diseased creation and that the best job I could do at the time was to trace the connection between his diseased nature and the international mess he gets himself into. To many of you, this will seem trite, obvious, and familiar in theological terms. Man is a fallen being. He is gripped by original sin. His nature is sinful and his state is perilous. I accept the theology and admit the triteness; but what is trite is true; and a truism can become more than a truism when it is a belief passionately held....
I can say in America what I should not like to say at home; which is that I condemn and detest my country's faults precisely because I am so proud of her many virtues. One of our faults is to believe that evil is somewhere else and inherent in another nation. My book was to say you think that now the war is over and an evil thing destroyed, you are safe because you are naturally kind and decent. But I know why the thing rose in Germany. I know it could it could happen in any country. It could happen here.

„Through our mother we are part of the solar system and part through that of the whole universe. In the blazing poetry of the fact we are children of the stars.“

—  William Golding

Nobel prize lecture (1983)
Contesto: Words may, through the devotion, the skill, the passion, and the luck of writers prove to be the most powerful thing in the world. They may move men to speak to each other because some of those words somewhere express not just what the writer is thinking but what a huge segment of the world is thinking. They may allow man to speak to man, the man in the street to speak to his fellow until a ripple becomes a tide running through every nation — of commonsense, of simple healthy caution, a tide that rulers and negotiators cannot ignore so that nation does truly speak unto nation. Then there is hope that we may learn to be temperate, provident, taking no more from nature's treasury than is our due. It may be by books, stories, poetry, lectures we who have the ear of mankind can move man a little nearer the perilous safety of a warless and provident world. It cannot be done by the mechanical constructs of overt propaganda. I cannot do it myself, cannot now create stories which would help to make man aware of what he is doing; but there are others who can, many others. There always have been. We need more humanity, more care, more love. There are those who expect a political system to produce that; and others who expect the love to produce the system. My own faith is that the truth of the future lies between the two and we shall behave humanly and a bit humanely, stumbling along, haphazardly generous and gallant, foolishly and meanly wise until the rape of our planet is seen to be the preposterous folly that it is.
For we are a marvel of creation. I think in particular of one of the most extraordinary women, dead now these five hundred years, Juliana of Norwich. She was caught up in the spirit and shown a thing that might lie in the palm of her hand and in the bigness of a nut. She was told it was the world. She was told of the strange and wonderful and awful things that would happen there. At the last, a voice told her that all things should be well and all manner of things should be well and all things should be very well.
Now we, if not in the spirit, have been caught up to see our earth, our mother, Gaia Mater, set like a jewel in space. We have no excuse now for supposing her riches inexhaustible nor the area we have to live on limitless because unbounded. We are the children of that great blue white jewel. Through our mother we are part of the solar system and part through that of the whole universe. In the blazing poetry of the fact we are children of the stars.

„We declare our own triviality on a small speck of dirt circling a small star at the rim of one countless galaxies and ignore the heroic insolence of the declaration. We have diminished the world of God and man in a universe ablaze with all the glories that contradict that diminution.
Of man and God.“

—  William Golding

"Belief and Creativity" Address in Hamburg (11 April 1980); as quoted in Moving Target https://books.google.com.mx/books?id=2SwUAAAAQBAJ&source=gbs_navlinks_s (2013), Faber & Faber
Contesto: Reason, when it is refined into logic, has something to offer but only in terms of itself and depends for its effect and use on the nature of the premise. That useful argument as to how many angels can stand on the point of a needle would turn into nothing without the concept of angels. I took a further step into my new world. I formulated what I had felt against a mass of reasonable evidence and saw that to explain the near infinite mysteries of life by scholastic Darwinism, by the doctrine of natural selection, was like looking at a sunset and saying "Someone has struck a match". As for Freud, the reductionism of his system made me remember the refrain out of Marianna in Moated Grande — "He cometh not, she said, she said I am aweary aweary, O God that I were dead!". This was my mind, not his, and I had a right to it....
We question free will, doubt it, dismiss it, experience it. We declare our own triviality on a small speck of dirt circling a small star at the rim of one countless galaxies and ignore the heroic insolence of the declaration. We have diminished the world of God and man in a universe ablaze with all the glories that contradict that diminution.
Of man and God. We have come to it, have we not? I believe in God; and you may think to yourselves — here is a man who has left a procession and gone off by himself only to end with another gasfilled image he towns round with him at the end of the rope. You would be right of course. I suffer those varying levels or intensities of belief which are, it seems, the human condition. Despite the letters I still get from people who believe me to be still alive and who are deceived by the air of confident authority that seems to stand behind that first book, Lord of the Flies, nevertheless like everyone else I have had to rely on memories of moments, bet on what once seemed a certainty but may now be an outsider, remember in faith what I cannot recreate.

„Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum.“

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