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BOOKS (FIRST LINES)
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[ Also see Books Books (Last Lines) Books (Quotes) Quotations ]

Vietnam, me love you long time. All day, all night, me love you long time.
      - Alex Garland, The Beach

There are some fields near Manchester, well known to the inhabitants as "Green Heys Fields," through which runs a public footpath to a little village about two miles distant.
      - Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell, Mary Barton [1848]

In the second century of the Christian era, the empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized portion of mankind.
      - Edward Gibbon,
        The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire

Two small, sturdy boys stood alone on the empty deck of the Channel steamer.
      - Arthur Hamilton Gibbs, Chances [1930]
         (pt. 1, ch. 1)

It was half-past five in the morning. The village was stretching itself. Thin spirals of blue smoke began to creep out of the first chimney, then another. From inside cow byres came the subdued rattle of chains and the swish of cows being milked. One by one the animals came out into the dewy paddocks with that peculiar low mumble as though grumbling to themselves.
      - Arthur Hamilton Gibbs, Soundings [1924]
         (pt. 1, ch. 1)

Julian Perryam was awakened at nine o'clock on a May morning in his bedroom in the Turl, off Broad Street, Oxford. He desired to sleep longer--hours longer--years longer--after a somewhat hectic night which had ended--how the deuce had it ended?
      - Sir Philip Gibbs, Heirs Apparent [1924] (ch. 1)

Yes, my dear brother, Michel has spoken to us, as you thought he would. Here is the account he gave us. You asked to hear it and I promised to tell you, but at the point of sending it to you I still hesitate; the more times I reread it, the more terrible it seems. Oh, what will you think of our friend? For that matter, what do I think of him myself.
      - Andre Gide, The Immoralist

Night. The river shouldered its way through the forest.
      - Jean Giono, The Song of the World

After a day of rain the sun came out suddenly at five o'clock and threw a golden bar into the deep Victorian gloom of the front parlour.
      - Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow,
        Life and Gabriella [1916]

When the Susquehanna stage came to the daily halt beneath the blasted pine at the cross-roads, an elderly man, wearing a flapping frock coat and a soft slouch hat, stepped gingerly over one of the muddy wheels, and threw a doubtful glance across the level tobacco fields, where the young plants were drooping in the June sunshine.
      - Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow,
        The Deliverance [1904] (book 1, ch. 1)

By the open French window of the dining-room Jenny Blair Archibald was reading Little Woman for the assured reward of a penny a page.
      - Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow,
        The Sheltered Life [1932]

As the night fell on her face Gerty Bridewell awoke, stifled a yawn with her pillow, and remembered that she had been very unhappy when she went to bed.
      - Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow,
        The Wheel of Life [1906] (pt. 1, ch. 1)

Children were chasing an idiot boy up the village street to the churchyard.
      - Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow,
        Vein of Iron [1935]

Nazeby Hall,
  August 3d.
    Dearest Mamma:
      I got here all right, without even a smut on my face, for Agnes tidied me up in he brougham before we arrived at the gate. The dust in the train was horrid.
      - Elinor Glyn, The Visits of Elizabeth [1901]

October 3rd
  Something very peculiar happened today.
      - Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol,
        Diary of a Madman [1915]

"Turn round, my boy! How ridiculous you look! What sort of a priest's cassock have you got on? Does everybody at the academy dress like that?"
      - Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Tarus Bulba [1839]
         (ch. I)

This is a tale of a small street in the Longton district of Doomington, in the North Country. Its name is Magnolia Street, and the streets that run parallel with it, right and left across the central thoroughfare of Blenheim Road, are called after the mimosa, the acacia, the laburnum, the oleander, and several other blossoming shrubs that never blossomed in this neighbourhood since the Romans were hereabouts.
      - Louis Golding, Magnolia Street [1932] (ch. 1)

Ilya Ilyich Oblomov was lying in bed one morning in his flat in Gorokhovaya Street in one of those large houses which have as many inhabitants as a country town.
      - Ivan Goncharov, Oblomov [1858] (pt. 1),
        (David Magarshack translation)

Hidden away in this worn and care-encumbered world, scarred with its frequent traces of a primeval curse, are spots so quiet and beautiful as to make the fall of man seem incredible, and awaken in the breast of the weary traveler who comes suddenly upon them. a vague and dear delusion that he has stumbled into Paradise.
      - Charles Frederic Goss,
        The Redemption of David Corson [1900] (ch. 1)

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring cleaning his little home.
      - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows [1908]

On the evening of the last day of June, 1806, the transports which had brought our troops from Sicily anchored off the Italian coast, in the Bay of St. Eufemio, a little to the southward of a town of that name.
      - James Grant (1),
        Adventures of an Aide-de-Camp [1848] (ch. 1)

In the Highlands of Perthshire, a deadly feud had existed from time immemorial, between the Lisles of Inchavon and the Stuarts of Lochisla. In the days when the arm of the law was weak, the proprietors had often headed their kinsmen and followers in encounters with the sword, and for the last time during the memorable civil war of 1745-6.
      - James Grant (1), The Romance of War [1845]
         (ch. 1)

Babcock and Selma White were among the last of the wedding guests to take their departure.
      - Robert Grant (2), Unleavened Bread [1900]
         (book 1, ch. 1)

My family is American, and has been for generations, in all its branches, direct and collateral.
      - Ulysses Simpson Grant, Personal Memoirs

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.
      - Robert Ranke Graves, I, Claudius [1934] (ch. 1)


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