I would like to ask of you, for you to sincerely quote opening passages you've read that you consider to be great opening passages.
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I would like to ask of you, for you to sincerely quote opening passages you've read that you consider to be great opening passages.
Neuromancer
"Weia! Waga! Woge, du Welle, walle zur Wiege! Wagalaweia! Wallala weiala weia!"
>In his open letter to Friedrich Nietzsche of 12 June 1872 Wagner explained that Woglinde’s opening gambit is based on OHG heilawâc ( = water drawn from a river or well at some divinely appointed hour), recast by analogy with the eia popeia ( = hushabye) of children’s nursery rhymes.
>In conversation with Cosima, Wagner described this passage as ‘the world’s lullaby’ (CT, 17 July 1869), a reading already suggested by Opera and Drama, where the composer imputes the birth of language to a melodic vocalization.
this is why white people don't reproduce enough. fricking goofy
“The Jetavana Temple bells
ring the passing of all things.
Twinned sala trees, white in full flower,
declare the great man's certain fall.
The arrogant do not long endure:
They are like a dream one night in spring.
The bold and brave perish in the end:
They are as dust before the wind.”
― Royall Tyler, The Tale of the Heike
Rage-Goddess. sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles, murderous. doomed. that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls. great fighters' souls. but made their bodies carrion. feasts for the dogs and birds.
and the will of Zeus was moving .toward its end.
Begin. Muse, when the two first broke and clashed. Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.
The opening from No Country for Old Men.
>Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo. Macondo era entonces una aldea de 20 casas de barro y cañabrava construidas a la orilla de un río de aguas diáfanas que se precipitaban por un lecho de piedras pulidas, blancas y enormes como huevos prehistóricos. El mundo era tan reciente, que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para mencionarlas había que señalarlas con el dedo.
Anglos will never understand
>Many anons disputed, the fronts of their pantaloons fused together, colonel Aureliano Buendia's habit of recording a certain moron remotely, together with his father who gave lovely concerts in hell.
is this supposed to be hard or something?
>She came along the alley and up the back steps the way she always used to. Doc hadn’t seen her for over a year. Nobody had. Back then it was always sandals, bottom half of a flower-print bikini, faded Country Joe & the Fish T-shirt. Tonight she was all in flatland gear, hair a lot shorter than he remembered, looking just like she swore she’d never look.
When the thing or the in july and woman or something idk sorry op i forgot
>Pedestrians comprise the greater part of humanity. Moreover, its better part. Pedestrians created the world. They built cities, erected tall buildings, laid out sewers and waterlines, paved the streets and lit them with electricity. They spread civilization throughout the world, invented the printing press and gunpowder, flung bridges across rivers, deciphered Egyptian hieroglyphs, introduced the safety razor, abolished the slave trade, and established that no less than 114 tasty, nutritious dishes can be made from basedbeans.
>And just when everything was ready, when our native planet had become relatively comfortable, the motorists appeared.
>It should be noted that the automobile was also invented by pedestrians. But, somehow, the motorists quickly forgot about this. They started running over the mild-mannered and intelligent pedestrians. The streets—laid out by pedestrians—were taken over by the motorists. The roads became twice as wide, while the sidewalks shrunk to the size of a postage stamp. The frightened pedestrians were pushed up against the walls of the buildings.
>In a big city, pedestrians live like martyrs. They’ve been forced into a kind of traffic ghetto. They are only allowed to cross the streets at the intersections, that is, exactly where the traffic is heaviest—where the thread by which a pedestrian’s life hangs is most easily snapped.
>In our expansive country, the common automobile—intended by the pedestrians to peacefully transport people and things—has assumed the sinister role of a fratricidal weapon. It puts entire cohorts of union members and their loved ones out of commission. And if on occasion a pedestrian manages to dart out from under a silver grille, he is fined by the police for violating the traffic laws.
*Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
-Introibo ad altare Dei.
Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up, she was shitting brown water. The more she drank the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew.
Not an opening line
>There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.
Oxygen polluted the sky.
What book?
"As soon as I shove this hot poker up my ass, I'm going to rip my dick off!" the Pope shouted to a roomful of stunned archbishops.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
The gale tore at him and he felt its bite deep within and he knew if they did not make landfall within three days they would all be dead.
It was a dark and stormy night
>I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus This-that-and-the-other (for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles), who was once, and not so long ago either, known to my friends and relatives and associates as 'Claudius the Idiot', or 'That Claudius', or 'Claudius the Stammerer', or 'Clau-Clau-Claudius', or at best as 'Poor Uncle Claudius', am now about to write this strange history of my life; starting from my earliest childhood and continuing year by year until I reach the fateful point of change where, some eight years ago, at the age of fifty-one, I suddenly found myself caught in what I may call the 'golden predicament' from which I have never since become disentangled.
>It is an old saying, that he who seeks what he should not, finds what he would not. Every one has heard of the ape who, in trying to pull on his boots, was caught by the foot. And it happened in like manner to a wretched slave, who, although she never had shoes to her feet, wanted to wear a crown on her head. But the straight road is the best; and, sooner or later, a day comes which settles all accounts. At last, having by evil means usurped what belonged to another, she fell to the ground; and the higher she had mounted, the greater was her fall—as you shall see.
Regret bites deeper on those who know they deserve it.