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Maybe, he said hesitantly, maybe there is a beast. The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement. You, Simon? You believe in this? I don't know, said Simon. His heartbeats were choking him. But ... The storm broke. Sit down! Shut up! Take the conch! Sod you! Shut up! Ralph shouted. Hear him! He's got the conch! What I mean is . . . maybe it's only us. Nuts! That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum. Simon went on. We could be sort of. . . . Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness. Inspiration came to him. What's the dirtiest thing there is? As an answer Jack dropped into the uncomprehending silence that followed it the one crude expressive syllable. Release was immense. Those littluns who had climbed back on the twister fell off again and did not mind. The hunters were screaming with delight.
(note: The inherent evils within man appear once law and order are taken from society.)
-William Golding, Lord of the Flies