This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history.
It was a pleasure to burn.
In those days cheap apartments were almost impossible to find in Manhattan, so I had to move to Brooklyn.
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
'I've watched through his eyes, I've listened through his ears, and I tell you he's the one.'
When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.
He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the GulfStream and he had gone eighty-four daysnow without taking a fish.
To the red country and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth.
Jack Torrence thought: Officious little prick.
The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and bega to pick his way toward the lagoon.
Behavioral science, the FBI section that deals with serial murder, is on the bottom floor of the Academy building at Quantico, half-buried in the earth.
Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.
I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.
All this happened, more or less.
Jewel and I come up from the field, following the path in single file.
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.
Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes.
'Who is John Galt?'
It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Pivet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
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