As Far As The Novel Is Concerned

The Candle-buds Opened Their Wide White Flowers....their Scent Spilled Out Into The Air And Took Possession Of The Island.

Heaven Lies Around Us In Our Infancy.

Childhood Is A Disease - A Sickness That You Grow Out Of.

Consider A Man Riding A Bicycle. Whoever He Is, We Can Say Three Things About Him. We Know He Got On The Bicycle And Started To Move. We Know That At Some Point He Will Stop And Get Off. Most Important Of All, We Know That If At Any Point Between The Beginning And The End Of His Journey He Stops Moving And Does Not Get Off The Bicycle He Will Fall Off It. That Is A Metaphor For The Journey Through Life Of Any Living Thing, And I Think Of Any Society Of Living Things.

This Is Our Island. It's A Good Island. Until The Grownups Come To Fetch Us We'll Have Fun.