best closing lines in /lit/

[Anonymous No.16442239]

we all know the best openers, how about the closers?
ill start with fitzgerald:
>so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

[Anonymous No.16442246]

>>16442239
>The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

- Revelation 22:21

[Anonymous No.16442297]

>In the twilight of autumn it sailed out of Mithlond, until the seas of the Bent World fell away beneath it, and the winds of the round sky troubled it no more, and borne upon the high airs above the mists of the world it passed into the Ancient West, and an end was come for the Eldar of story and of song.

[Anonymous No.16442404]

>>16442239
>Oedipa settled back to await the crying of lot 49.
Mic drop

[Anonymous No.16442581]

>It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

[Anonymous No.16442656]

>but the sun also rises.

[Anonymous No.16442681]

>>16442404
so that's why it's called that

[Anonymous No.16442699]

>and they lived happily ever after

[Anonymous No.16442760]

>>16442239
I have it memorized:
>Lord, take pity on the Christian who doubts, on the skeptic who would feign belief, on the galley-slave of life who puts out to sea alone, in the night, beneath a firmament illumined no longer by the consoling beacon-fires of the ancient hope
Sounds like it was written for today

[Anonymous No.16442765]

>>16442239
>There is no exit.

[Anonymous No.16442786]

>So we beat off, dicks against our hands, cooming ceaselessly thinkin bout dat ass

[Anonymous No.16442820]

>>16442239
>”Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”

[Anonymous No.16443094]

>Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

[Anonymous No.16443128]

>>16443094
This. Left me stunned after I read it; what a fucking story

[Anonymous No.16443133]

>>16442239
>And when I awoke, I realised that my so-called search of lost time was only but a long and boring dream, it was time to get dressed and to go to my accountant work.
Really didn't see it coming, Proust truly was a genius

[Anonymous No.16443160]

>>16443133
Damn, my translation had a different ending
>And so I climbed onto my stallion and rode - across the meadows, through the forests, past the mountains, over the rivers, and into the valleys - in search of lost time. The End.

[Anonymous No.16443164]

>The Idiot, dear reader, it was you all along
wew lads

[Anonymous No.16443183]

>>16443160
Yeah Proust is well-known for being the inventor of the Choose Your Own Adventure style, I wonder how you got that ending though

[Anonymous No.16443357]

>>16442239
She'll get tired of it too, their ways, their evil. She'll use the gun. But now she had reason to live as she used scissors to cut open her sewn jeans pocket. Her three captors had never found it.

Silver Hair set her cross over Tomas and Marissa's photo.

[Anonymous No.16443363]

I finally did what no one else would.

[Anonymous No.16443401]

>>16442239
>Yup, das all nigga. Das kapital.

[Anonymous No.16443989]

>Closing lines. Time for you to go out go out into the world. Closing lines. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.

[Anonymous No.16444016]

>>16442239
>Thus was buried Hector, tamer of horses

[Anonymous No.16444155]

>The hour of repentance is past, and now my fate is inevitable. Amen, for ever! I will now seal up my little book, and conceal it; and cursed be he who trieth to alter or amend!

[Anonymous No.16444173]

>I guess the real Moby Dick was the friends we made along the way

bravo melville

[Anonymous No.16444223]

Hard pick between

>My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of man's life?
and
>For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

>>16443164
>The Idiot, dear reader, it was you all along
Rude desu, expected more of Dosto.

[Anonymous No.16444294]

>>16442239
>and it seemed the shame was to outlive him.

[Anonymous No.16444367]

>>16442239
>"Meet Mrs Bundren," he says.

[Anonymous No.16444387]

>>16444155
Best book ever written.

[Anonymous No.16444408]

>>16444016

[Anonymous No.16444418]

>>16442239
>There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.

[Anonymous No.16444432]

>glory, as anyone knows, is bitter stuff

[Anonymous No.16444435]

>Hurrah for Karamazov!

[Anonymous No.16444475]

>>16442239
Runner-up:
>yes I said yes I will Yes.
Most beautiful ending of all time:
>His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

[Anonymous No.16444488]

>>16442246
fpbp

[Anonymous No.16444913]

>He was the only person caught in the collapse, and afterward, most of his work was recovered too, and it is still spoken of, when it is noted, with high regard, though seldom played.

[Anonymous No.16444965]

Here, on the edge of what we know, in contact with the ocean of the unknown, shines the mystery and the beauty of the world. And it’s breathtaking.

[Anonymous No.16445092]

>>16444913
Poor Stanley. Guess he got it the best though given he actually managed to produce original work unlike the rest.

[Anonymous No.16445095]

>>16444016
it's not fair bros...

[Anonymous No.16445127]

>>16443094
One of the stories that got me into reading

[Anonymous No.16445131]

>>16445092
He did at least die fulfilling his greatest dream, and yeah, most of the other characters were just absolutely fucked.
There was one who I remember had a happier ending, but his name escapes me...

[Anonymous No.16445154]

>God takes care of us; he thinks of us every minute, and he gives us instructions that are sometimes very precise. Those surges of love that flow into our chests and take our breath away -- those illuminations, those ecstasies, inexplicable if we consider our biological nature, our status as simple primates-- are extremely clear signs.

>And today I understand Christ's point of view and his repeated horror at the hardening of people's hearts: all of these things are signs, and they don't realize it. Must I really, on top of everything else, give my life for these wretches? Do I really have to be explicit on that point?

>Apparently so.

[Anonymous No.16445192]

>>16442246
fp

[Anonymous No.16445225]

>>16442239
"Are you to escape me now, wearing the spoils stripped from the body of those I loved? By this wound which I now give, it is Pallas who makes sacrifice of you. It is Pallas who exacts the penalty in your guilty blood."
Blazing with rage, Aeneas plunged the steel full into his enemy's breast. The limbs of Turnus were dissolved in cold and his life left him with a groan, fleeing in anger, down to the shades.

[Anonymous No.16445327]

>>16442239
>Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

[Anonymous No.16445347]

>>16443160
>>16443183
"In conclusion, nowadays I go to bed a bit later."

[Anonymous No.16445358]

>no priest attended him

[Anonymous No.16445436]

>A second time, eh, what a risky suggestion! Just suppose, cher maitre, that we should be taken literally! We'd have to go through with it. Brr...! The water's so cold! But let's not worry! It's too late now. It will always be too late. Fortunately!

[Anonymous No.16446644]

>>16442239
I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita.