Indiana Joanna (khakipants) wrote,
Indiana Joanna
khakipants

  • Mood:

like the chicken pox

Having no glaring examples of idiocy to share today, I will instead present to you something I have stolen from a few other people. Because it's fun. So here it is (in no particular order):



I provide 10 first lines from 10 of my favorite books . . . titles and authors are up to you.
(An incomplete list, necessarily- I omitted to use some that were already listed by others, I don't have some books immediately at hand, and I just have more than ten favorite books. Also, I'm fairly certain that others are doing "favorite first lines" rather than "first lines from favorite books". I didn't do it their way. My way, although less impressive was easier.)

---------------------------------
One minute it was Ohio winter, with doors closed, windows locked, the panes blind with frost, icicles fringing every roof, children skiing on slopes, housewives lumbering like great black bears in their furs along the icy streets.

---------------------------------

It was a nice day.

---------------------------------

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

---------------------------------

One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it- it was the black kitten's fault entirely.

---------------------------------

'And by the way,' said Mr. Hankin, arresting Miss Rossiter as she rose to go, 'There is a new copy-writer coming in today.'

---------------------------------

'Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?' demanded the angry voice of Katharine Comstock while she glared at her daughter.

---------------------------------

I was fifteen when I first met Sherlock Holmes, fifteen years old with my nose in a book as I walked the Sussex Downs, and nearly stepped on him.

---------------------------------

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral Arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

---------------------------------

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.

---------------------------------

Hobbling home under a mackeral sky, I came upon a group of children.

---------------------------------


There. That's done.


Other than that, not much to say. I tried to give blood today, but wasn't allowed. They require a hematocrit(?) level of 38%, and I was at 37%. A little frustrating. But they gave me the orange juice anyway. I'm not sure I spelled that one word right, but I'm too lazy just now to go downstairs and check the paper they gave me explaining the situation.

The other exciting news is that I bought a box of oatmeal. I'm going to take it to work with me. I can tell you're thrilled. I figure that if I'm going to be hungry in the mornings and yet not eat breakfast at home, I should at least eat something that pretends to be healthy, instead of vending machine cinnamon rolls (yuck!) or drive-through fast food (which is what I did this morning). So oatmeal in a mug it is!

Oh yes, and I bought this magazine (to fight back against my impending loss of further brain cells). I think I'll go read it now.
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