QUIZ — NUMEROLOGY

[Anonymouṡ No.22421614]

[Anonymouṡ No.22421617]

One hundred quotations to identify, with an overall theme which should emerge fairly quickly. Some translations; some non-fiction. Proper names unredacted, which leaves one or two entries as the lowest of low-hanging fruit, but they're all worth a cute anime girl nonetheless. Hints on request.


The authors (none repeated):


Dante Alighieri, W. H. Auden, Jane Austen

Honoré de Balzac, J. L. Borges, Emily Bronte, Robert Browning, Charles Bukowski, Anthony Burgess, Lord Byron

Erskine Caldwell, John Dickson Carr, Lewis Carroll, Raymond Chandler, Agatha Christie, Arthur C. Clarke, Susanna Clarke, Samuel Coleridge

Roald Dahl, Osamu Dazei, Philip K. Dick, Joan Didion, Isak Dinesen, Arthur Conan Doyle

John Fante, William Faulkner, Gustav Flaubert, Ian Fleming

W. S. Gilbert, Robert Graves, William Lindsay Gresham

Dashiell Hammett, Thomas Hardy, Thomas Harris, Robert A. Heinlein, Joseph Heller, Ernest Hemingway, Michel Houellebecq, A. E. Houseman, Ted Hughes, Victor Hugo, Aldous Huxley

Henry James, Randall Jarrell, Robinson Jeffers, James Joyce

Emmanuel Kant, John Keats, Stephen King, Rudyard Kipling

Philip Larkin, Harper Lee, Sinclair Lewis, H. W. Longfellow, H. P. Lovecraft

Thomas Macaulay, Norman Mailer, Thomas Mann, Hilary Mantel, W. Somerset Maugham, Cormac McCarthy, Larry McMurtry, Herman Melville, Walter Miller, Spike Milligan, A. A. Milne, John Milton, Margaret Mitchell

George Orwell, Wilfred Owen

Vladimir Nabokov

Mervyn Peake, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Alexander Pope, Charles Portis, Ezra Pound, Terry Pratchett, Thomas Pynchon

Damon Runyon

William Shakespeare, Laurence Sterne, Wallace Stevens, Robert Louis Stevenson, Bram Stoker, Jonathan Swift

Alfred Lord Tennyson, Hunter S. Thompson, Dylan Thomas, J. R. R. Tolkien, Leo Tolstoy, John Kennedy Toole

Voltaire

T. H. White, Walt Whitman, Geoffrey Willans, John Williams, P. G. Wodehouse, Virginia Woolf

W. B. Yeats

[Anonymouṡ No.22421623]

1)
There is one story and one story only
That will prove worth your telling,
Whether as learned bard or gifted child;
To it all lines or lesser gauds belong
That startle with their shining
Such common stories as they stray into.


2)
Two things fill the mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe, the more often and the more intensely one reflects upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.


3)
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.


4)
She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.


5)
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran...


6)
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.


7)
“Which is it to-day?” I asked, — “morphine or cocaine?”

He raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he had opened. “It is cocaine,” he said, — “a seven-per-cent. solution. Would you care to try it?”


8)
He had been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be put in vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers.


9)
Lars Porsena of Clusium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.


10)
And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.


11)
Young Juan wax’d in goodliness and grace;
At six a charming child, and at eleven
With all the promise of as fine a face
As e’er to man’s maturer growth was given...


12)
“It is not pretty,” he said. “Someone must have stood there and stabbed him again and again. How many wounds are there exactly?”

“I make it twelve. One or two are so slight as to be practically scratches. On the other hand, at least three would be capable of causing death.”


13)
It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen.


14)
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.


15)
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


16)
She struggled with the sob in her throat. How often had that string of excellences made her young heart ache in church of late years, and how strange that he should have cited them now.

“Why didn’t you stay and love me when I — was sixteen; living with my little sisters and brothers, and you danced on the green? O, why didn’t you, why didn’t you!” she said, impetuously clasping her hands.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421628]

17)
Spade stepped back from the table saying: "There you are."

Gutman's fat fingers made short work of cord and paper and excelsior, and he had the black bird in his hands. "Ah," he said huskily, "now, after seventeen years!" His eyes were moist.


18)
“It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen years!”


19)
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years.


20)
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty;
Youth's a stuff will not endure.


21)
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say:
‘Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies,
But keep your fancy free.’
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.


22)
Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn’t, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn’t have to; but if he didn’t want to he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.

‘That’s some catch, that Catch-22,’ he observed.


23)
Lord! how ashamed I should be of not being married before three-and-twenty!


24)
These pennants stretched back past where vision fades;
While as for width, the outer two were spread
Such that between, ten paces might be made.

Beneath the sky – emblazoned as you’ve read –
Came four-and-twenty elders, two by two,
With coronets of lilies on their heads.


25)
So she was Anne, then, fair and English, smelling of mild summers and fresh water. She was not young, he thought: past twenty-five. She was no plum-plump pudding of the henyard, roaring the health of burning air and an ample plain cottage diet, nor was there in her voice the country twang of such as Alice Studley. The thin song of would-be ladyship (she would turn her blushing face away, no doubt, from the cock’s reading) beat smartly in her neck’s pulse as he fingered it.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421632]

26)
With all this sail, poor Yorick carried not one ounce of ballast; he was utterly unpractised in the world; and, at the age of twenty-six, knew just about as well how to steer his course in it, as a romping, unsuspicious girl of thirteen: So that upon his first setting out, the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran him foul ten times in a day of somebody’s tackling; and as the grave and more slow-paced were oftenest in his way, —— you may likewise imagine, ’twas with such he had generally the ill luck to get the most entangled.


27)
This year I am twenty-seven. My hair has become much greyer. Most people would take me for over forty.


28)
“Tell me frankly: do you think it is possible Frau Stöhr knows how to make twentyeight different kinds of fishsauces? I don’t mean if she actually can make them — that I should consider out of the question — I mean if she said at table just now she could, or if I only imagined she did — that is all I want to know.”


29)
We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we began:—

“The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left; we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest.” A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.

There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty!


30)
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.


31)
At thirty-one, when some are rich
And others dead,
I, being neither, have a job instead . . .


32)
Benjamin wavered for a moment. His eyes became moist. "I sometimes — forget — "
"And sometimes you forget that Benjamin is only Benjamin, and not all of Israel."
"Never!" snapped the hermit, eyes blazing again. "For thirty-two centuries I — " He stopped and closed his mouth tightly.
"Why?" the abbot whispered almost in awe. "Why do you take the burden of a people and its past upon yourself alone?"


33)
“Have you read Rousseau?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember that he asks the reader somewhere what he would do if he could make a fortune by killing an old mandarin somewhere in China by mere force of wishing it, and without stirring from Paris?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then?”
“Pshaw! I am at my thirty-third mandarin.”

[Anonymouṡ No.22421635]

34)
A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories.


35)
I’ve been watching these people for upwards of thirty-five years, and I don’t hesitate to say that I’ve acquired considerable information. It’s a very fine country on the whole — finer perhaps than what we give it credit for on the other side. Several improvements I should like to see introduced; but the necessity of them doesn’t seem to be generally felt as yet. When the necessity of a thing is generally felt they usually manage to accomplish it; but they seem to feel pretty comfortable about waiting till then.


36)
Can I ask you somethin?
Yeah. Go ahead.
How old are you?
Thirty-six.
That's pretty old. I didnt know you was that old.
I know. It kind of took me by surprise my own self.
I got a feelin I ought to be afraid of you but I aint.
Well. I cant advise you on that neither. Most people'll run from their own mother to get to hug death by the neck. They cant wait to see him.


37)
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.


38)
'Any chance?' asked Hadley.

He might last a couple of hours; not more, and probably less. If he hadn't had the constitution of a bull he'd be dead already. Looks as though he's made a further lesion in the lung trying to exert himself — torn it across.' Dr Peterson dived into his pocket. 'You'll want to send your police surgeon round, won't you? Here's my card. I'll keep the bullet when I get it. I should guess a thirty-eight bullet, fired from about ten feet off. May I ask what happened?'

'Murder,' said Hadley.


39)
“How old are you, Sister Rice? You didn’t tell me your age.”
“I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” she said.
“That’s the law. I can’t give you the license if you don’t state your age.”
“Well — I was thirty-eight not so long back.”
“How old are you now?”
“Thirty-nine, but I don’t show it yet.”


40)
The schools composing none but young and vigorous males, previously mentioned, offer a strong contrast to the harem schools. For while those female whales are characteristically timid, the young males, or forty-barrel-bulls, as they call them, are by far the most pugnacious of all Leviathans, and proverbially the most dangerous to encounter; excepting those wondrous grey-headed, grizzled whales, sometimes met, and these will fight you like grim fiends exasperated by a penal gout.

The Forty-barrel-bull schools are larger than the harem schools. Like a mob of young collegians, they are full of fight, fun, and wickedness, tumbling round the world at such a reckless, rollicking rate, that no prudent underwriter would insure them any more than he would a riotous lad at Yale or Harvard.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421640]

41)
Of course, the ‘forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes’ could allude to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, ‘northeast and by north.’ This latter direction I at once established by means of a pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull.


42)
At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out “Silence!” and read out from his book, “Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.”


43)
"You'll soon get used to her looks," said he,
"And a very nice girl you will find her!
She may very well pass for forty-three
In the dusk, with a light behind her!"


44)
But why repeat this over and over again? Why be always trying to bring up some feeling she had not got? There was a kind of blasphemy in it. It was all dry: all withered: all spent. They ought not to have asked her; she ought not to have come. One can't waste one's time at forty-four, she thought.


45)
“ . . . I get so I can call my shots on the rats, and in fact several times I say to myself, I will hit this one in the right eye, and this one in the left eye, and it always turns out just as I say, although sometimes when you hit a rat with a forty-five up close it is not always possible to tell afterwards just where you hit him, because you seem to hit him all over.”


46)
. . . . . . and here was he
At Rome, since first youth, worn threadbare of soul
By forty-six years' rubbing on hard life,
Getting fast tired o' the game whose word is — "Wait!"
When one day —

[Anonymouṡ No.22421644]

47)
"Our word for suicide is jisatsu, literally 'self-murder,' and although it is a violent solution to a personal problem, it carries no stigma as it would in your country. In fact, one of our most famous folk-tales, known to all children, is of the forty-seven ronin, or bodyguards. Through their negligence, their lord, Asano, was assassinated. They swore to avenge him, and they did so. But then they came together at a place called Ako and all committed seppuku to expiate their negligence. This is what you know as hara-kiri, which is a vulgar term meaning 'belly-cutting.' Today, at the time of the festival at the Ako shrine, special trains have to be laid on to accommodate the respectful pilgrims."

"Well, if you bring your children up on that sort of stuff, you can't expect them not to venerate the act of suicide."

"Just so," said Tiger proudly. "Twenty-five thousand Japanese commit suicide every year. Only the bureaucrats regard that as a shameful statistic. And the more spectacular the suicide, the more warmly it is approved. Not long ago, a young student achieved great renown by trying to saw his own head off."


48)
An old Australian lady called Miss Blewitt had told him of the trick when he was a seaman on board the old P. & O. liner the Kaiser Hind. ‘Put plenty of sulphur in your socks and you'll never suffer from tuberculosis.’ And true as true, touch wood, for forty-eight years since he put sulphur in his socks, he had never had the disease; he hadn’t had it before mark you, but he definitely hadn’t had it since.


49)
Forty-nine was your magic number.
Forty-nine this.
Forty-nine that. Forty-eight
Doors in your high palace could be opened.


50)
Thro’ the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day:
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.


51)
“It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact that it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion. I was only fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say ‘thag you very buch’. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank you very much for coming to my little party.”

[Anonymouṡ No.22421646]

52)
“I remember the winter child,” Wolsey says. “I suppose, Thomas, you would not be back in England then. The queen was taken unexpectedly with pains and the prince was born early, just at the turn of the year. When he was less than an hour old I held him in my arms, the sleet falling outside the windows, the chamber alive with firelight, the dark coming down by three o’clock, and the tracks of birds and beasts covered that night by the snow, every mark of the old world wiped out, and all our pain abolished. We called him the New Year’s prince. We said he would be the richest, the most beautiful, the most devoted. The whole of London was lit up in celebration . . . He breathed fifty-two days, and I counted every one of them. I think that if he had lived, our king might have been — I do not say a better king, for that could hardly be — but a more contented Christian.”


53)
Joe said, ‘We haven’t gone anywhere. We’re where we’ve always been. But for some reason — for one of several possible reasons — reality has receded; it’s lost its underlying support and it’s ebbed back to previous forms. Forms it took fifty-three years ago. It may regress further. I’m more interested, at this point, in knowing if Runciter has manifested himself to you.’


54)
The other came a little closer to him and put his face in his.

"Touch me, touch me," he said. "By God, I'd like to see you hit me. Do you want me to say it again? Snob. Snob."

Cooper was three inches taller than Mr Warburton, a strong, muscular young man. Mr Warburton was fat and fifty-four. His clenched fist shot out. Cooper caught him by the arm and pushed him back.

"Don't be a damned fool. Remember I'm not a gentleman. I know how to use my hands."


55)
Near the end of the second day I filled the last grave and then Carol took my shovel and walked slowly toward the crowd at the fence. They backed away, mumbling and frightened. Carol threw the shovel against the fence. The crowd ducked and threw up their arms as if the shovel were coming through.

"All right, murderers," screamed Carol, "be *happy!*"

We walked into the house. There were fifty-five graves out there . . .


56)
A sulky fifty-six he finds
A change of mealtime utter hell,
Grown far too crotchety to like
A luxury hotel.


57)
She fitted into my biggest arm-chair as if it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearing arm-chairs tight about the hips that season. She had bright, bulging eyes and a lot of yellow hair, and when she spoke she showed about fifty-seven front teeth.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421650]

58)
“What has happened?” asked Pierre, entering Márya Dmítrievna’s room.

“Fine doings!” answered Dmítrievna. “For fifty-eight years have I lived in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!”


59)
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.


60)
‘Cuh i sa gosh i mean to say its prunes agane,’ came the cry from sixty throats.

‘Prunes are good for you,’ repli the masters in unison but without conviction.

At that moment the hour struck.


61)
. . . Today I'm sixty-one. Waxwings
Are berry-picking. A cicada sings.


62)
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Hoge," Andrews said, and put his hand across the table. Hoge was grinning at him crookedly, his sharp face sunk down between narrow shoulder blades. He slowly raised his right arm, and suddenly thrust his forearm across the table. The arm ended at the wrist in a white nub that was neatly puckered and scarred. Involuntarily, Andrews drew his own hand back. Hoge laughed; his laughter was an almost soundless wheeze that seemed forced from his thin chest.

"Don't mind Charley, son," Miller said. "He always does that. It's his idea of fun."

"Lost it in the winter of sixty-two," Charley Hoge said, still gasping with his laughter.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421653]

63)
Bruno woke with a crippling headache and no illusions. He had heard about the place from a secretary who had been on a “Personal Development — Positive Thinking” course at five thousand francs a day. He had asked her for the brochure. Friendly, open-minded, liberal; he got the picture. But one statistic at the bottom of the page attracted his attention: in July–August of the previous year, sixty-three percent of visitors to the Lieu du Changement were female. That was almost two women to every man: an excellent ratio. He decided to check it out, and booked a week there in July; especially as camping would be cheaper than going to a Club Med. Of course, he could guess what sort of women went there: deranged old lefties who were probably all HIV-positive. But still, with two women to every man, he stood a chance; if he worked it properly, he might even bag two.


64)
They walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-and-by they came to an enchanted place on the very top of the Forest called Galleons Lap, which is sixty-something trees in a circle; and Christopher Robin knew that it was enchanted because nobody had ever been able to count whether it was sixty-three or sixty-four, not even when he tied a piece of string round each tree after he had counted it.


65)
“Bowling’s wonderful, Miss Reilly. It takes your mind off things.”
“Oh, my heavens!” a voice shouted from the parlor. “These girls are doubtless prostitutes already. How can they present horrors like this to the public?”
“I wish I had me a hobby like that.”
“You oughta try bowling.”
“Ay-yi-yi. I already got arthuritis in my elbow. I’m too old to play around with them balls. I’d wrench my back.”
“I got a aunt, sixty-five, a grammaw, and she goes bowling all the time. She’s even on a team.”


66)
One other thing before we get started — I know you, Andy, and Frank, accourse, but who's this woman with the tape-recorder?

Oh Christ, Andy, I *know* she's a stenographer! Didn't I just tell you my Mamma didn't raise any fools? I may be sixty-six come this November, but I still got all my marbles. I know a woman with a tape-recorder and a shorthand pad's a stenographer. I watch *all* these courtroom shows, even that *L. A. Law* where nobody can seem to keep their clothes on for fifteen minutes at a time.

What's your name, honey?

[Anonymouṡ No.22421656]

67)
"Send that collect," I says.
He looked at the message, then he looked at the clock. "Market closed an hour ago," he says.
"Well," I says. "That's not my fault either. I didn't invent it; I just bought a little of it while under the impression that the telegraph company would keep me informed as to what it was doing."
"A report is posted whenever it comes in," he says.
"Yes," I says. "And in Memphis they have it on a blackboard every ten seconds," I says. "I was within sixty-seven miles of there once this afternoon."


68)
Younger told me that Rooster had passed away a few days before while the show was at Jonesboro, Arkansas. He had been in failing health for some months, suffering from a disorder he called "night hoss," and the heat of the early summer had been too much for him. Younger reckoned his age at sixty-eight years. There was no one to claim him and they had buried him in the Confederate cemetery in Memphis, though his home was out of Osceola, Missouri.


69)
There are nine-and-sixy ways of constructing tribal lays —
And every single one of them is right!


70)
There in captivitie he lets them dwell
The space of seventie years, then brings them back,
Remembring mercie, and his Cov’nant sworn
To David, stablisht as the dayes of Heav’n.


71)
The old servants of the family suspected him to have been the son of the Baron's sister, by a good, honest gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady would never marry because he had been able to prove only seventy-one quarterings, the rest of his genealogical tree having been lost through the injuries of time.


72)
She hung up and I set out the chess board. I filled a pipe, paraded the chessmen and inspected them for French shaves and loose buttons, and played a championship tournament game between Gortchakoff and Meninkin, seventy-two moves to a draw, a prize specimen of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object, a battle without armor, a war without blood, and as elaborate a waste of human intelligence as you could find anywhere outside an advertising agency.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421658]

73)
Though unrelated by blood and far apart in age, there was a kinship of spirit and experience binding these women together. All three wore home-dyed mourning, all were worn, sad, worried, all bitter with a bitterness that did not sulk or complain but, nevertheless, peered out from behind their smiles and their words of welcome. For their slaves were gone, their money was worthless, Sally's husband, Joe, had died at Gettysburg and Young Miss was also a widow, for young Dr. Fontaine had died of dysentery at Vicksburg. The other two boys, Alex and Tony, were somewhere in Virginia and nobody knew whether they were alive or dead; and old Dr. Fontaine was off somewhere with Wheeler's cavalry.

"And the old fool is seventy-three years old though he tries to act younger and he's as full of rheumatism as a hog is of fleas," said Grandma, proud of her husband, the light in her eyes belying her sharp words.


74)
I am seventy-four years old and suddenly all my strength
Has been shed on the wind.


75)
Listen, my children, and you shall hear,
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.


76)
An hour or so passed, and still no-one had spoken to Morrison. Then Morrison spoke to Manzarek. He spoke almost in a whisper, as if he were wresting the words from behind some disabling aphasia.

"It's an hour to West Covina," he said. "I was thinking we should maybe spend the night out there after we play."

Manzarek put down the corkscrew. "Why?" he said.

"Instead of coming back."

Manzarek shrugged. "We were planning to come back."

"Well, I was thinking, we could rehearse out there."

Manzarek said nothing.

"We could get in a rehearsal, there's a Holiday Inn next door."

"We could do that," Manzarek said. "Or we could rehearse Sunday, in town."

"I guess so." Morrison paused. "Will the place be ready to rehearse Sunday?"

Manzarek looked at him for a while. "No," he said then.

I counted the control knobs on the electronic console. There were seventy-six. I was unsure in whose favor the dialogue had been resolved, or if it had been resolved at all.


77)
Denys Finch-Hatton and I went with Mr. Bulpett for a picnic to the top of the Ngong Hills on his seventy-seventh birthday. As we sat up there we came to discuss the question of whether, if we were offered a pair of real wings, which could never be laid off, we would accept or decline the offer.

Old Mr. Bulpett sat and looked out over the tremendous big country below us, the green land of Ngong, and the Rift Valley to the West, as if ready to fly off over it at any moment. ‘I would accept,’ he said, ‘I would certainly accept. There is nothing I should like better.’ After a little time of thought he added: ‘I suppose that I should think it over, though, if I were a lady.’

[Anonymouṡ No.22421663]

78)
I was drunk that night, Camilla, drunk on seventy-eight cent whiskey, and you were drunk on whiskey and grief. I remember that after turning off the lights, naked except for one shoe that baffled me, I held you in my arms and slept, at peace in the midst of your sobs, yet annoyed when the hot tears from your eyes dripped upon my lips and I tasted their saltiness and thought about that Sammy and his hideous manuscript. That *he* should strike you! That fool. Even his punctuation was bad.


79)
“Well, it was late, and anyway, it went down on my expense-account — gosh, if I’d been paying it instead of the firm, I’d ’a’ tramped the streets all night before I’d ’a’ let any hick tavern stick me seven great big round dollars, believe me! So I lets it go at that. Well, the clerk wakes a nice young bellhop — fine lad — not a day over seventy-nine years old — fought at the Battle of Gettysburg and doesn’t know it’s over yet — thought I was one of the Confederates, I guess, from the way he looked at me — and Rip van Winkle took me up to something — I found out afterwards they called it a room, but first I thought there’d been some mistake — I thought they were putting me in the Salvation Army collection-box! At seven per each and every diem! Gosh!”


80)
"The action never stops in this town," said my attorney as we shuffled out to the car. "A man with the right contacts could probably pick up all the fresh adrenochrome he wanted, if he hung around here for a while." I agreed, but I wasn't quite up to it, right then. I hadn't slept for something like eighty hours, and that fearful ordeal with the drug had left me completely exhausted . . . tomorrow we would have to get serious. The drug conference was scheduled to kick off at noon . . . and we were still not sure how to handle it. So we drove back to the hotel and watched a British horror film on the late show.


81)
“They’re writing a Martian dictionary,” Patty told him.
“Martian to English? That must be difficult.”
“Oh, no!” Miriam looked almost shocked. “That would be — impossible. A Martian dictionary in Martian. There’s never been one; Martians don’t need such things. My part is just clerical; I type what they do. Mike and Stinky — mostly Stinky — worked out a phonetic script for Martian, eighty-one characters. So we had an I.B.M. typer worked over, using both upper and lower case — Boss darling, I’m *ruined* as a secretary; I type touch system in Martian now.”


82)
Sir Ector kissed both boys and commanded the griffin to be displayed before him.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "What a monster! We'll have him stuffed in the dinin'-hall. What did you say his measurements were?"
"Eighty-two inches from ear to ear. Robin said it might be a record."
"We shall have to get it chronicled."
"It is rather a good one, isn't it?" remarked Kay with studied calm.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421669]

83)
And out here, eighty-three, the cortex slack,
Excitatory processes eased to cinders
By Inhibition’s tweaking, callused fingers,
Each time my room begins its blur I feel
I’ve looked in on some city’s practice blackout
(Such as must come, should Germany keep on
That road of madness).


84)
He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.


85)
“He broke her jaw to get at her tongue. His pulse never got over eighty-five, even when he swallowed it.”


86)
‘Now, if you are twelve, my boy, and I am eighty-six, let us say, for I think that ought to cover me, then let us take twelve from eighty-six and halve the result. No, no. I won’t make you do it because that would be most unfair. Ah yes, indeed it would — for what’s the good of being a prisoner and then being made to do lessons too? Eh? Eh? Might as well not be punished, eh? ... Let me see, where were we, where were we? Yes, yes, yes, twelve from eighty-six, that’s about seventy-four, isn’t it? Well, what is half seventy-four? I wonder ... h’m, yes, twice three are six, carry one, and twice seven are fourteen ... thirty-seven, I do believe. Thirty-seven. And what *is* thirty-seven? Why, it's just exactly the half-way age between us.’


87)
Mr. Boggis looked across at the commode, and he laid his head first to one side, then to the other, and he frowned, and pushed out his lips, and shrugged his shoulders, and gave a little scornful wave of the hand as though to say the whole thing was hardly worth thinking about really, was it?
"Shall we say . . . ten pounds. I think that would be fair."
"Ten pounds!" Rummins cried. "Don't be so ridiculous, parson, *please!*"
"It's worth more'n that for firewood!" said Claud, disgusted.
“Look here at the bill!” Rummins went on, stabbing that precious document so fiercely with his dirty forefinger that Mr. Boggis became alarmed. “It tells you exactly what it cost! Eighty-seven pounds! And that’s when it was new. Now it’s antique it’s worth double!”

[Anonymouṡ No.22421674]

88)
He got up and moved over, looking down at her. “After five years you still fluff it. My God, what do you use for brains anyway? What’s eighty-eight?”
Her wide, smoky-gray eyes were brilliant with tears. “Stan, I — I’ll have to think about it. When you come at me all of a sudden that way I have to think. I — just have to think,” she finished lamely.
He went on, his voice cool. “Eighty-eight!”
“Organization!” she said, smiling quickly. “Shall I join some club, fraternity, or organization? Of course. I hadn’t forgotten it, Stan. Honest, honey.”
He went over to the couch and lay back on it. “You’ll say it backwards and forwards a hundred times before you go to sleep tonight. Right?”


89)
“My God! Mine is the God of Socrates, of Franklin, of Voltaire, and of Béranger! I am for the profession of faith of the ‘Savoyard Vicar’, and the immortal principles of eighty-nine!”


90)
He conducted the pivoting operation with brilliance. There were many problems involved. He had to move his front line, stabilized at last, through a ninety-degree arc to the left, and it meant that, while the flank companies on the left who could anchor themselves by the sea would have to move only a half mile or so, the companies on the right would be obliged to wheel through a six-mile arc of jungle, and would be exposed through every hour of their march.


91)
“Pity on you, sir! It is youth demanding pity of the old man of ninety-one! You are entering into life, I am leaving it; you go to the play, to balls, to the café, to the billiard-hall; you have wit, you please the women, you are a handsome fellow; as for me, I spit on my brands in the heart of summer; you are rich with the only riches that are really such, I possess all the poverty of age; infirmity, isolation! You have your thirty-two teeth, a good digestion, bright eyes, strength, appetite, health, gayety, a forest of black hair; I have no longer even white hair, I have lost my teeth, I am losing my legs, I am losing my memory; there are three names of streets that I confound incessantly, the Rue Charlot, the Rue du Chaume, and the Rue Saint-Claude, that is what I have come to; you have before you the whole future, full of sunshine, and I am beginning to lose my sight, so far am I advancing into the night; you are in love, that is a matter of course, I am beloved by no one in all the world; and you ask pity of me!”

[Anonymouṡ No.22421680]

92)
Professor Angell was widely known as an authority on ancient inscriptions, and had frequently been resorted to by the heads of prominent museums; so that his passing at the age of ninety-two may be recalled by many. Locally, interest was intensified by the obscurity of the cause of death. The professor had been stricken whilst returning from the Newport boat; falling suddenly, as witnesses said, after having been jostled by a nautical-looking negro who had come from one of the queer dark courts on the precipitous hillside which formed a short cut from the waterfront to the deceased‘s home in Williams Street. Physicians were unable to find any visible disorder, but concluded after perplexed debate that some obscure lesion of the heart, induced by the brisk ascent of so steep a hill by so elderly a man, was responsible for the end. At the time I saw no reason to dissent from this dictum, but latterly I am inclined to wonder — and more than wonder.


93)
Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker’s one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the information that it was a blossom of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm.


94)
"How long is a life?" he asked.

The gentleman with the thistle-down hair spread his hands in a gesture of the utmost candour. "How long would you like?"

Mr Norrell considered. "Let us suppose she would have lived until she was ninety-four. Ninety-four would have been a good age. She is nineteen now. That would be another seventy-five years. If you were to bestow upon her another seventy-five years, then I see no reason why you should not have half of it."


95)
No one put it better than Sergeant-Professor Myron when he said, in shocked disbelief: 'There goes Newton's Third Law.'

It was Newton's Third law, however, upon which Endeavour had to depend the next day, when she used her very last reserves of propellant to bend her own orbit outwards from the sun. The change was slight, but it would increase her perihelion distance by ten million kilometres. That was the difference between running the ship's cooling system at ninety-five per cent capacity — and a certain fiery death.

[Anonymouṡ No.22421682]

96)
In their embraces she seemed to feel, for a moment, that he loved her; yet soon afterward she would grow sad again.

“You’re worrying yourself into a sweat for nothing,” he said. “Clara’s husband will probably live to be ninety-six, and anyway she and I probably ain’t got no use for one another now. I ain’t got the energy for Clara. I doubt I ever did.”


97)
“We have a list of criminal and civil charges totally nineteen thousand, seven hundred and sixty-three separate offences — ”

“We wasnae there!” yelled Rob Anybody desperately. “Isn’t that right, lads?”

“ — including more than two thousand cases of Making an Affray, Causing a Public Nuisance, Being Found Drunk, Being Found Very Drunk, Using Offensive Language (taking into account ninety-seven counts of Using Language That Was Probably Offensive If Anyone Else Could Understand It), Committing a Breach of the Peace, Malicious Lingering — ”

“It’s mistaken identity!” shouted Rob Anybody.


98)
“You rarely win, but sometimes you do. Mrs. Dubose won, all ninety-eight pounds of her. According to her views, she died beholden to nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I ever knew.”


99)
In Arabic, "zahir" means visible, manifest, evident; in that sense, it is one of the ninety-nine names of God; in Muslim countries, the masses use the word for "beings or things which have the terrible power to be unforgettable, and whose image eventually drives people mad." Its first undisputed witness was the Persian polymath and dervish Lutf Ali Azur; in the corroborative pages of the biographical encyclopedia titled Temple of Fire, Ali Azur relates that in a certain school in Shiraz there was a copper astrolabe "constructed in such a way that any man that looked upon it but once could think of nothing else, so that the king commanded that it be thrown into the deepest depths of the sea, in order that men might not forget the universe."


100)
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound
Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from the common cart,
The morning is flying on the wings of his age
And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.

[Anonymous No.22422099]

5) Kubla Khan
7) I couldn't tell you which story, but that's definitely Sherlock Holmes.
12) Murder on the Orient Express
13) 1984
15) Treasure Island
17) Maltese Falcon
22) The low-hanging fruit of Catch-22
61) Pale Fire
65) Confederacy of Dunces
68) True Grit
81) Stranger in a Strange Land
82) Once and Future King
84) Old Man and the Sea

[Anonymouṡ No.22422220]

>>22422099
Excellent. At this rate I'll only need eight C.A.G.s.


>5) Kubla Khan
Correct. S. T. Coleridge.

>7) I couldn't tell you which story, but that's definitely Sherlock Holmes.
It sure is. Perhaps someone else can give the story, but A. Conan Doyle can be crossed off the authors anyway.

>12) Murder on the Orient Express
Right. Agatha Christie. (One of the biggest clues to who did it as well.)

>13) 1984
As seen on a million "open lines" lists.

>15) Treasure Island
Of course.

>17) Maltese Falcon
The names kinda helped.

>22) The low-hanging fruit of Catch-22
But you still got there first.

>61) Pale Fire
Right. "Waxwing" should jog the memory even for people who've only read the first line.

>65) Confederacy of Dunces
Correct. Even people who haven't read the whole thing might get it from the tone of the voice from the parlour.

>68) True Grit
Correct, Charles Portis. "Rooster" is a help I guess.

>81) Stranger in a Strange Land
Correct. Maybe the Martian thing is a bit of a giveaway.

>82) Once and Future King
Right. E. B. White. Again a few useful names in there. (Not to mention the griffin.)

>84) Old Man and the Sea
Of course.

[Anonymouṡ No.22422235]

>>22422099
Excellent. At this rate I'll only need eight C.A.G.s.


>5) Kubla Khan
Correct. S. T. Coleridge.

>7) I couldn't tell you which story, but that's definitely Sherlock Holmes.
It sure is. Perhaps someone else can give the story, but A. Conan Doyle can be crossed off the authors anyway.

>12) Murder on the Orient Express
Right. Agatha Christie. (One of the biggest clues to who did it as well.)

>13) 1984
As seen on a thousand "opening lines of novels" lists.

>15) Treasure Island
Of course.

>17) Maltese Falcon
The names kinda helped.

>22) The low-hanging fruit of Catch-22
But you still got there first.

>61) Pale Fire
Right. "Waxwing" should jog the memory even for people who've only read the first line.

>65) Confederacy of Dunces
Correct. Even people who haven't read the whole thing might get it from the tone of the voice from the parlour.

>68) True Grit
Correct, Charles Portis. "Rooster" is a help I guess.

>81) Stranger in a Strange Land
Correct. Maybe the Martian thing is a bit of a giveaway.

>82) Once and Future King
Right. E. B. White. Again a few useful names in there. (Not to mention the griffin.)

>84) Old Man and the Sea
Of course.

[Anonymous No.22423518]

>>22421644
27. Dazai,
65. Toole,
99. Borges?

Also, how do you prepare these? Goddamn. I wish I had the brain you have

[Anonymous No.22423559]

>>22421623
>8)
>He had been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be put in vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers.
Gullivers Travels specifically when he visits Laputa the city in the sky.

[Anonymous No.22423594]

>>22421640
>42)
>At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out “Silence!” and read out from his book, “Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.”
Alice in Wonderland?

[Anonymous No.22423637]

>>22421663
>80)
The adrenochrome and attorney make me want to say Hunter Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

[Anonymous No.22423680]

>>22421623
4 is Keats La Belle Dame Sans Merci
10 is Pope?
11 is Byron Don Juan
>>22421628
18 is Henry James? Hardy? Something melodramatic
20 is Shakespeare Twelfth Night
21 is AE Housman
23 is Austen?
24 is Dante
>>22421632
26 is Sterne - A Sentimental Journey
28 is Mann - Magic Mountain
36 is McCarthy?
>>22421646
52 is Mantel - Wolf Hall
>>22421650
58 is Tolstoy - War and Peace
>>22421653
64 is A A Milne
>>22421656
70 is Milton - Paradise Lost
>>22421682
100 is Auden In Memory of W B Yeats?

[Anonymous No.22423712]

>>22421658
73 is Pynchon - Vineland?

[Anonymouṡ No.22423931]

>>22423518
>27. Dazai,
Correct. No Longer Human. One of the trickier ones I thought, although perhaps some people might remember it as a last line.

>65. Toole,
Right, Confederacy of Dunces, although the previous poster already got this one.

>99. Borges?
Correct. The Zahir. Another tricky one especially since it's in translation. But the title is in there which I guess helps.

>how do you prepare these
This one wasn't too bad. Nothing clever. Some I remembered, some I made a note of when I came across them, some gaps I filled in just searching for the words.

[Anonymouṡ No.22423939]

>>22423559
8)
>Gullivers Travels
Correct. Jonathan Swift.

[Anonymouṡ No.22423955]

>>22423594
>42
>Alice in Wonderland?
Of course. Lewis Carroll. Alice isn't impressed. If it's the "oldest rule in the book", it ought to be number one. Well done Alice.

[Anonymouṡ No.22423967]

>>22423637
>>80)
>The adrenochrome and attorney make me want to say Hunter Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
You should say it, because you'd be right.

[Anonymouṡ No.22424050]

>>22423680

Mostly right:

>4 is Keats La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Correct.

>10 is Pope?
It is, Essay On Criticism.

>11 is Byron Don Juan
Correct.

>18 is Henry James? Hardy? Something melodramatic
You're right it's a big old novel, but not either of those.

>20 is Shakespeare Twelfth Night
Correct. One of the songs.

>21 is AE Housman
Yeah, A Shropshire Lad, typically miserable.

>23 is Austen?
It is. I guess "three and twenty" helps with the period, plus of course people getting married is all JA thinks about.

>24 is Dante
Correct. The rhyme scheme is a clue I guess although perhaps not that much of a clue, since a lot of people read it in a translation without rhymes. It's the allegorical pageant near the end of Purgatorio.

>26 is Sterne - A Sentimental Journey
Sterne, yes. ASJ, no.

>28 is Mann - Magic Mountain
Correct. Pretty typical bit of getting tied up in knots for no reason. Why not just ask the woman if she said it?

>36 is McCarthy?
It sure is, but which one?

>52 is Mantel - Wolf Hall
Correct.

>58 is Tolstoy - War and Peace
Correct. The names help I guess, although not that much since everyone in W&P has three names.

>64 is A A Milne
Correct. Christopher Robin is finally saying goodbye to the Hundred Acre Wood because it's time to grow up and learn about Kings and Factors and so on. So it has to be The House At Pooh Corner.

>70 is Milton - Paradise Lost
Right.

>100 is Auden In Memory of W B Yeats?
Nope. You're right it's a poem about someone who's died, but it's not Auden.

[Anonymouṡ No.22424100]

>>22423712
>73 is Pynchon - Vineland?
Nope. If Vineland sounds like this it's really misleading because this author is about as far from Pynchon as you can get.

[Anonymouṡ No.22425489]

Bump. Still some moderately low-hanging fruit to be picked.

#30, #34, #59 are quite famous lines.

#40, #51 not so famous in themselves, but possible to work out

#85 might ring a cinematic bell

#92 should feel familiar to anyone who has read this author, even if they haven't read that particular work

[Anonymous No.22425703]

>>22425489

Thank you, I failed to read some of these close enough. 40 is Moby Dick (one of the whale metaphor chapters; isn't there one called Schools and Schoolmasters?). 51 is either the end of The Hobbit or the start of The Lord of the Rings (Bilbo recalling his barrel ride through the forest in The Hobbit, likely at his eleventy-first celebration in LoTR?).

[Anonymouṡ No.22425808]

>>22425703
>40 is Moby Dick (one of the whale metaphor chapters; isn't there one called Schools and Schoolmasters?)
Yes it is, and yes there is.

>51 is either the end of The Hobbit or the start of The Lord of the Rings (Bilbo recalling his barrel ride through the forest in The Hobbit, likely at his eleventy-first celebration in LoTR?).
Right, Fellowship of the Ring. It's "ancient history" so it has to be when he's old.

[Anonymous No.22425872]

>>22425489
92 is HP Lovecraft. I want to say Call of Cthulhu but I can't quite remember if that had the conspiracy in it.

[Anonymouṡ No.22425894]

>>22425872
>92 is HP Lovecraft. I want to say Call of Cthulhu but I can't quite remember if that had the conspiracy in it.
Trust your feelings, Luke. Yes, it's CoC.

[Anonymous No.22425897]

>>22421658
>75)
I've heard this tons of times and remember reading it in school. I thought it was by Washington Irving the same guy as Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle but when I saw he wasn't one of the author's I had to look it up as HW Longfellow. Also when looking it up saw the title is simply Paul Revere's Ride while I had it confused with the painting The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. So I just bumbled incorrectly into the right answer here like an idiot.

[Anonymouṡ No.22425947]

>>22425897
>75)
>I've heard this tons of times and remember reading it in school. I thought it was by Washington Irving the same guy as Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle but when I saw he wasn't one of the author's I had to look it up as HW Longfellow.
Correct. 'Paul Revere's Ride'. Longfellow used to be the most-quoted poet in USA, I believe.

>Also when looking it up saw the title is simply Paul Revere's Ride while I had it confused with the painting The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. So I just bumbled incorrectly into the right answer here like an idiot.
"I would rather have a drop of luck than a barrel of brains" — Diogenes, supposedly

[Anonymouṡ No.22427426]

Bump.

[Anonymous No.22428654]

>>22425489
>#85 might ring a cinematic bell
Thomas Harris. Perhaps Red Dragon or Silence of the Lambs

[Anonymouṡ No.22429205]

>>22428654
>Thomas Harris. Perhaps Red Dragon or Silence of the Lambs
Correct. The latter, when Chiltern is telling Starling about Lecter's attack on the nurse, to warn (shock) her. Included in the film (although they slightly altered Chiltern's dialogue).

[Anonymous No.22430154]

>>22421623
2 Kant being smug
9 Macaulay, Lays of Ancient Rome
>>22421653
63 Houellebecq Les particules élémentaires

[Anonymouṡ No.22431540]

>>22430154

>2 Kant being smug
A philosopher is never smug, Frodo Baggins, nor is he self-effacing. He judges his worth precisely as he ought to do. Correct, Critique.

>9 Macaulay, Lays of Ancient Rome
Correct. Horatius of course.

>63 Houellebecq Les particules élémentaires
Correct. (Or whatever English translation you prefer.)

[Anonymous No.22432271]

>>22421614
color me impressed

[Anonymouṡ No.22433348]

Bump.

Of those unanswered:
Female authors: 18, 30, 44, 73, 76, 77, 94, 98
Translated: 14 (sort of. It's a translation, but the English version is accepted in its own right), 33, 71, 89, 91

[Anonymouṡ No.22434892]

Bump.