Favorite lines from your own works
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Here are some of mine:
Crazy About You
Dad had worked on his teeth and found him to be perfectly normal. “Now that he’s killed his family.”
The 41st Sermon
"Christianity used the Jewish god, a god who is everything and by being everything ended up being a big fat nothing...."
One More Victim
I believe what I did was right, but why does it sit still so heavily upon my soul?
Rabbletown: Life in These United Christian States of Holy America
“We’ve got to fornicate again tonight, Bob.”
The Saltness of Time
I wanted to go to her, to touch her, touch her in that manner any of us will want to touch a person we are with who is near death. But that natural instinct, I have to tell you, was wiped away by a palpable fear, a fear that if I went near her at that moment, the blast from her open soul would sear my own.
SPILL: Big Oil + Sex = Game On
...she twisted the bar towel in her hands as though wringing thoughts out of her brain.
Then and Now: the Harmony of the Instantaneous All
"And when did you fall in love with me?"
"I woke up with it the morning after I met you,"
From "Crossing the River"
Simon Winsett, Lexington pariah: "Maybe he was what townspeople said he was, a schemer. Whatever it was that characterized him, he was putting that talent to use."
James Hayworth, Acton militiaman: "He wanted to rise each morning, this terrible day recollected as a wicked dream."
Mary Hartwell, Lincoln wife and mother: "The rage that she had suppressed was bursting out. For quite some while it would dominate her underlying fear, of events she could not predict and injustices she could not repeal."
Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Percy: "In one day he had been taught a lesson that officialdom in London and officers of general rank might never comprehend."
Lieutenant William Sutherland: "How utterly inconceivable, how entirely calamitous to be born here amid these trees, hills, and onmipresent rocks!"
Corporal John Howe: "His misfortune had been that he had chosen to be a redcoat soldier. If he wanted to change that, what in fact would he gain and how might he suffer if he tried?"
The Blasted Lands
"For in that place, even the cobblestones were haunted by nameless and formless evils that had existed since the foundations of the world were laid. Iron Town was the meeting point between the world of man and the world of darkness, where things crawled and slithered that had no name and no mortal had ever laid eyes upon. It was no paradise to soothe the weary who'd come in from the wastes, rather it was merely a different sort of Hell."
The first page of Apart From Love:
About a year ago I sifted through the contents of my suitcase, and was just about to discard a letter, which my father had written to me some time ago. Almost by accident my eye caught the line, I have no one to blame for all this but myself, which I had never noticed before, because it was written in an odd way, as if it were a secret code, almost: upside down, in the bottom margin of the page, with barely a space to allow any breathing.
The words left some impression in my memory. I almost wished he were next to me, so I could not only listen to him, but also record his voice saying that.
I imagined him back home, leaning over his desk, scrawling each letter with the finest of his pens with great care, as if focusing through a thick magnifying glass. The writing was truly minute, as if he had hated giving away even the slightest hint to a riddle I should have been able to solve on my own. I detested him for that. And so, thinking him unable to open his heart to me, I could never bring myself to write back. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake.
Even so, I am only too happy to agree with him: the blame for what happened in our family is his. Entirely his. If not for his actions ten years ago, I would never have run away to Firenze, to Rome, to Tel Aviv. And if not for his actions a couple of weeks ago, this frantic call for me to come back and see him would never have been made.
And so I find myself standing here, on the threshold of where I grew up, feeling utterly awkward. I knock, and a stranger opens the door. The first thing that comes to mind: what is she doing here? The second thing: she is young, much too young for him. The third: her hair. Red.
From Pascal's Wager, my novel of a poker playing, action junkie private detective:
...as the legendary high stakes player Ted Forrest once said, if you’re not willing to risk everything, you limit your upside as a poker player. Maybe as a human being, too.
From Part 1 (of 5, so far) of my saga of eternal torment, I am not a Pet Person...
My oldest son set up a terrarium in his room and captured a newt from a small lake, and actually kept it for over two years. He named it "Tiny", reasoning that, "after all it ~is~ my newt."
"What's that about breasts, Carlisle? You can't expect Bernard here to know what's in the papers. He can't read."
(from Lane's End)
from "On Living Anyways" forthcoming from African American Review
“If I were a slave, I’d be a
always running away.”
If I were
I would be the one
the master didn’t fuck
and the blackmen didn’t neither
the mistress couldn’t stand
and the housewomen ignored
the children always teased
and the others
Black as me
from "The Failure of Monogamous Whores" ...unpublished
I always wanted to be a whore
but never had the options
defaulting between monogamy and abstinence
from Order of the Oppressed (Novel) ...unpublished
Since compulsiveness comes to those who seek order alone, and madness always visits those who fight struggle by themselves, I sought brotherhood to make sense of the world I have been thrust into, or at least brothers to take the edge off of that which does not make sense.
I've got a number of lines I love in my most recent novel, Into the Deep, but I think these two are my favorites.
"In that moment I felt like an outcast. I felt pushed away and exiled and the loneliness of it was a boundless crater that I’d fallen into to be swallowed up by the darkness. I couldn’t go back there, not then."
"The clouds looked like glowing orange waves rolling in and crashing against the darkening sky."
I also have a few lines from my novel The Art of Magic Realm of the Castles, but I think this is the most apt because of how men behave when a woman goes into labour; also how underneath a soldiers hard exterior is a man who really does panic more than a woman;
Seb and Alex screamed like two girls and hot footed off out of the house yelling “Help the baby’s coming…Sabien…HELP!!!!”
Today you were officially declared dead."
the opening lines of my novel, Whorticulture
"At a grocery store, my vision rebels against me. The lights are far too bright all of a sudden. The isles seem impossibly long and are twisting and warping before me. The people become horrible reflections in a funhouse mirror. I'm dizzy and disoriented, sweaty and shaking. I'm reacting physically to my irrational terror. I want to vomit. My heart is beating way to fast... way to hard! I think I can actually see it kicking against my chest! Paralyzed, I want to run, but I can’t!"
~ Chapter 2, Surviving the Fourth Cycle
A fin, a flap, a froth of waves
The breaker rises, then it caves
The boat will sink and so will I
No one around to hear my cry
Food flakes afloat, the flick of tails
I pray for wind to fill my sails
I pray that I may stay the course
And ride the wave, or maybe force
My way deep down under the tide
So I may flee, so I may hide
In Jaffa bay, or in Tarshish
And not be swallowed by a fish
To read more, click the link
“She had finally learned the significance of the ending of the Mayan calendar: Elvis and Liberace were clearly coming back from the dead.”
#14."And not be swallowed by a fish?" That's a bit of a desperate rhyme - or does it refer to something that actually happened?
In re #10. LadyClare, your modesty is a standing rebuke to eveything else on this page, good though much of it is. So, when will we actually see some of your work? Your Profile page indicates nothing (still, nice picture). -- Goddard Graves
Any mortals who have known my darker side haven't lived long enough to know my pain.
It was amazing how a room could fill up with her presence, or a stage, an afternoon, an evening.
As with all self-praise, this looks like fun. Surprising that it isn't more active. I apologize for offering not one line but two paragraphs.
From Hide the Child, a contemporary romance:
Diamond beams smote through the windshield—a brilliant display in the black of night and space. But starlight was cold—the stars isolate and alone in vasty darkness.
As was he.
A prayer from a battle chaplain in the second book of Kydona.
“Where rests thy pride now, oh wicked? For thy fields lie barren, and thy table is set with not bread but ash! I have slain thy sons, vile sinner, and my hand has cast thy house down! Amen I say, no citadel may stand but that of heaven! My wrath is fallen, unbeliever! This day you shall stand before God!”
Alternatively, from a line from my comedic relief character, Vernon de Gauthier:
"We're going whoring, we're going whoring, we're going whoring…"
In re #21. So please don't leave us in a state of unrelieved tumescence. Does Vernon extend an invite to the chaplain, and does the chaplain accept (if only in the spirit of, ahem, missionary endeavour)? Write, 'phone, or visit with Reply.
Oh that did it. You sent me scurrying for the dictionary, haha. The chaplain, sadly for him, remains chaste.
I resist the temptation to extend him a helping hand, except metaphorically speaking.
“If you knew all that God knows, God would be rather limited.”
“Words jump into lines; lines jump into minds; thoughts jump into hearts.”
“Disbelieving is a form of belief. Not believing in God is to believe in disbelieving. Arguing that people do not believe is like arguing that people do not breathe.”
-The Point: The Redemption of Oban Ironbout.
To read more visit www.estillyen.com.
Over in Hobnob with Author's we're playing a game where you are allowed to post a whole 200 word snippet from one of your works... but only if it fits the theme. The current theme is gift giving.(Please read rules before posting.)
I find it interesting how much easier I find it to come up with a snippet that fits a theme, than to pick a "favorite line" to share. Most of my favorite lines don't stand alone at all well. That seems to be what I like about them, actually.
I tend to squee over lines like:
"So you devised an experiment to test the hypothesis. I trust you found the results conclusive."
"I've always liked dogs, especially puppies."
Those two lines apparently ordinary lines, spoken by two very different characters happen to be saying pretty much the exact same thing: "Yes, I really do love you." Nobody would guess that was what was going on if I just posted the lines themselves. :(
But that's what excites me when I write -- when my characters say something in a way that is purely that character and only that character.
The first line of my murder mystery, TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE:
"The dirty clothes and foul body odor were a lethal combination, infusing the already cloying humidity with a pervasive stink."
Admittedly, it's not exactly pretty prose, but I think it effectively sets up the scene.
I have three published novels:
Good Intentions (literary): Of all the ways to die! Such an ordinary death.
Dead Men and Cats (novella): The enclosure triggered disturbing images of concentration camps and prisons, so she deliberately dropped her eyes, kept them down until she saw Sheriff Johnson's dark brown boots stop, the tips of their toes edging into an oil-slicked puddle.
Sketch of a Murder: (Book 1 Special Crimes Team series): The sun's rays burst through the side window, dusting his midnight skin with golden light.
Thanks for this thread. It was fun reading everyone's lines. And trying to decide which lines I liked best from my own work.
This topic is not marked as primarily about any work, author or other topic.