Literature / First Lines from Classic Sci-Fi Literature

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Can you name the work of science fiction given its first line?

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First sentenceSci-Fi WorkAuthor
Once upon a time when the world was young there was a martian named Smith.
A squat grey building of only thirty-four storeys.
When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him.
No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as
His name was Gaal Dornick and he was just a country boy who had never seen Trantor before.
The year 1866 was marked by a bizarre development, an unexplained and downright inexplicable phenomenon that surely no one has forgotten.
Mars was empty before we came.
We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.
On those cloudy days, Robert Neville was never sure when sunset came, and sometimes they were in the streets before he could get back.
Dr. Strauss says I should rite down what I think and remembir and evrey thing that happins to me from now on.
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
It was a dark and stormy night.
First sentenceSci-Fi WorkAuthor
Brother Gerard of Utah might never have discovered the blessed documents, had it not been for the pilgrim with girded loins....
When a day that you happen to know is Wednesday starts off by sounding like Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.
In the nighttime heart oif Beirut, in one of a row of general address transfer booths, Louis Wu flicked into reality.
Tonight we're going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man.
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
A merry little surge of electricity piped by automatic alarm from the mood organ beside his bed awakened Rick Deckard.
Behind every man now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.
I've watched through his eyes, I've listened through his ears, and I tell you he's the one.
It was a pleasure to burn.
In the week before their departure for Arrakis, when all the final scurrying about had reached an almost unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.
The time traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us.
All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true.

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