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Geneva. City of sunlight and bright reflections. Of billowing white sails on the lake--sturdy, irregular buildings above, their rippling images on the water below. Of myriad flowers surrounding blue-green pools of fountains--duets of exploding colors. Of small quaint bridges arching over the glassy surfaces of man-made ponds to tiny man-made islands, sanctuaries for lovers and friends and quiet negotiators. Reflections. - The Aquitaine Progression (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] BUY VARYING HARE USED BOOK The trawler plunged into the angry swells of the dark, furious sea like an awkward animal trying desperately to break out an impenetrable swamp. The waves rose to goliathan heights, crashing into the hull with the power of raw tonnage; the white sprays caught in the night sky cascaded downward over the deck under the force of the night wind. Everywhere there were the sounds of inanimate pain, wood straining against wood, ropes twisting, stretched to the breaking point. The animal was dying. - The Bourne Identity (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] Kowloon. The teeming final extension of China that is no part of the north except in spirit--but the spirit runs deep and descends into the caverns of men's souls without regard for the harsh, irrelevant practicalities of political borders. The land and the water are one, and it is the will of the spirit that determines how man will use the land and the water--again without regard for such abstractions as useless freedom or escapable confinement. The concern is only with empty stomachs. Survival. There is nothing else. All the rest is dung to be spread over the infertile fields. - The Bourne Supremacy (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] BUY VARYING HARE USED BOOK The cacophony spun out of control as the crowds swelled through the amusement park in the countryside on the outskirts of Baltimore. The summer night was hot, and nearly everywhere faces and necks were drenched with sweat, except for those screaming as they plunged over the crests of a roller coaster, or shrieking as they plummeted down the narrow, twisting gullies of racing water in torpedo sleds. The garishly colored, manically blinking lights along the midway were joined by the grating sounds of emphatic music metallically erupting out of an excess of loudspeakers--calliopes presto, marches prestissimo. - The Bourne Ultimatum (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] JANUARY 197-- "Attention! Le train de sept heures a destination de Zurich partira du quai numero douze." The tall American in the dark-blue raincoat glanced up at the cavernous dome of the Geneva railway station, trying to locate the hidden speakers. The expression on his sharp, angular face was quizzical; the announcement was in French, a language he spoke but little and understood less. Nevertheless, he was able to distinguish the word Zurich; it was his signal. - The Holcroft Covenant (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] The angry waters of the Oman Gulf were a prelude to the storm racing down through the Strait of Hormuz into the Arabian Sea. It was sundown, marked by the strident prayers nasally intoned by bearded muezzins in the minarets of the port city's mosques. The sky was darkening under the black thunderheads that swirled ominously across the lesser darkness of evening like roving behemoths. Blankets of heat lightning sporadically fired the eastern horizon over the Makran Mountains of Turbat, two hundred miles across the sea in Pakistan. - The Icarus Agenda (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] BUY VARYING HARE USED BOOK The band of carolers huddled at the corner, stamping their feet and swinging their arms, their young voice penetrating the cold night air between the harsh sounds of automobile horns and police whistles and the metallic strains of Christmas music blaring out from storefront speakers. The snowfall was dense, snarling traffic, causing the hordes of last-minute shoppers to shield their eyes. - The Matarese Circle (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] BUY VARYING HARE USED BOOK Loring walked out the side entrance of the Justice Department and looked for a taxi. It was nearly first thirty, a spring Friday, and the congestion in the Washington streets was awful. Loring stood by the curb and held up his left hand, hoping for the best. He was about to abandon the effort when a cab that had picked up a fare thirty feet down the block stopped in front of him. - The Matlock Paper (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] The cold rays of the moon streaked down from the night sky and bounced off the rolling surf, which burst into suspended sprays of white where isolated waves crashed into the rocks of the shoreline. The stretch of beach between the towering boulders of the Costa Brava was the execution ground. It had to be. May God damn this goddamned world--it had to be! - The Parsifal Mosaic (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)] Sundown. The distressed sloop, its mainmast shattered by lightning, its sails ripped by the winds of the open sea, drifted into the small, quiet beach of a private island in the Lesser Antilles. During the past three days, before the dead calm descended, this section of the Caribbean had suffered not only a hurricane with the force of the infamous Hugo, but sixteen hours later a tropical storm whose bolts of lightning and earthshaking thunder had set fire to a thousand palms and caused a hundred thousand residents of the island chain to look to their gods for deliverance. - The Scorpio Illusion (ch. 1) [Books (First Lines)]
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