Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting from his jaws. This sentence has the capacity to make one feel that one should put one’s pencil down and toss one’s scribbles into the fire and go sit quietly by the sea.
The sun was resting on the hill like a drop of blood on an eyelid … Tom, the future full time poet, practices in prose. (from The Mayor of Casterbridge)
Bod hesitated, and a flutter of night-black velvet resolved itself into a man-shape. Writes well, does this bloke, eh what?
Every human being lived behind an impenetrable wall of choking mist within which no other but he existed. Ummm, Oooooookay.
When she spoke, it was in a whisper that sounded like a snake licking its tongue in and out. I ain’t kiddin’. This guy dealt in some serious noir. That sentence up there is from The Postman Always Rings Twice.
It all seems so stupid and senseless. A sentence good for all times and all places from The Silver Sword (Escape From Warsaw in the USA)
And he laid her down there, and saw the pride of his heart and the triumph of his system, lying, an insensible heap, at his feet. This is on page 254 of Hard Times and pretty much sums up what was, for Dickens, a 342 page piece of flash fiction.
Turn right at the corner of Purple and Gaudy. Proceed uphill to the domicile
‘Father,’ he cried, after seeing the critics’ chewing, ‘Forgive them, for they know not what I am doing.’
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
