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/lit/ - Literature

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492066 No.492066 [Reply] [Original]

"The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door."
—Fredric Brown, Knock

>> No.492079

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

>> No.492133

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

>> No.492138

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

>> No.492147

>>492133

/thread

>> No.492152

Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.

>> No.492164

>>492133
A murderer always has a fancy prose style.

>> No.492174
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492174

That boy could dance.

>> No.492463

bamp

>> No.492472

Howard Roark laughed.

>> No.492778

And Chuck Norris was like, "penis, would you stop doing that? I'm trying to read here."

>> No.492781

>>492133
This has always been my favorite too.

>> No.492784

Dehrryiek sighed to himself.

>> No.492785

>>492784
While looking out his window at the ugly clouds.

>> No.492786

"I can't go on. I'll go on." Beckett, The Unnamable.

>> No.492791
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492791

>>492147

>> No.492790

The last man laughed at his own joke. The door really was too close to his seat, but it didn't really matter, did it?

>> No.492797

>>492079
King is awesome.

>> No.492801

"Clarisse dropped next to her and felt her chest, which made Annabeth gasp." - The Sea of Monsters

>> No.492807

For a long time, I went to bed early.

>> No.492810

Longtemps, je me suis couché de bonne heure.

>> No.492814

"He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad." - Rafael Sabatini, Scaramouche

>> No.493454

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

and Marquez

>> No.493460

Call me Ishmael.

>> No.493461

- They order, said I, this matter better in France -

>> No.493684

"What the-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Perdido Janssen, Gloryhole Sunrise

>> No.493712

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
-- George Orwell, 1984

>> No.493728

The Tickler leaned forward. “Would you put to sea without bidding farewell to your brother?” It gave Arya chills to hear him ask a question. “Ser would sooner you returned to Harrenhal with us, Sandor. I bet he would. Or King’s Landing. . .”
“Bugger that. Bugger him. Bugger you.”
The Tickler shrugged, straightened, and reached a hand behind his head to rub the back of his neck. Everything seemed to happen at once then; Sandor lurched to his feet, Polliver drew his longsword, and the Tickler’s hand whipped around in a blur to send something silver flashing across the common room. If the Hound had not been moving, the knife might have cored the apple of his throat; instead it only grazed his ribs, and wound up quivering in the wall near the door. He laughed then, a laugh as cold and hollow as if it had come from the bottom of a deep well. “I was hoping you’d do something stupid.” His sword slid from its scabbard just in time to knock aside Polliver’s first cut.

>> No.493738

arma virumque cano

>> No.493768

>>493728
my favourite chapter of all four books

>> No.494057

The Day of the Triffids.
>When a day that you happen to know is Wednesday starts off sounding like Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.

I like it. I mean, this book was first published in 1951, and that first line could pass for the first line of a book written now.