Guess the book! Please cite the code number when answering, and create unique code numbers for your own submissions, so we can keep this orderly. With two exceptions, I have taken the first line of the text, not the introduction.
MMc1: Our civilization is unable to do what individuals cannot say. (Hint: Consider who’s posting this.)
MMc2: Loving in truth, and faine in verse my love to show, that the deare She might take some pleasure of my paine: pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know, knowledge might pitie winne, and pitie grace obtaine, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, studying inventions fine, her wits to entertaine: oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow some fresh and fruitfull showers upon my sunne-burn’d braine.
MMc3: Woman? Very simply, say the fanciers of simple formulas: she is a womb, an ovary; she is a female - the word is sufficient to define her.
MMc4: I came to talk to You here in Your church because You can hear me better.
MMc5: The Greeks did not believe that the gods created the universe.
MMc6: “What’s this you’re writing?” asked Pooh, climbing onto the writing table.
MMc7: I can be precise about the day it began.
MMc8: Boatswain!
MMc9: I’ll feeze you, in faith.
MMc10: Out of the gravel there are peonies growing.
MMc11: Male homosexuality as it exists today is a brand-new phenomenon.
MMc12: The subject of this Essay is not the so-called Liberty of the Will, so unfortunately opposed to the misnamed doctrine of Philosophical Necessity; but Civil, or Social Liberty: the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately exercised by society over the individual.
MMc13: Above the town, on the hill brow, the stone angel used to stand.
MMc14: I know I was all right on Friday when I got up; if anything I was feeling more stolid than usual.
MMc15: Precisely one-half a millenium ago - and I mean what I say when I say it’s precise - on the twenty-third day of the next-to-last month of the year fourteen hundred fourscore-and-sixteen (a tip of my hat to the Gauls’ counting scheme), in the humble French town of Cahors en Quercy, some sixty-odd miles to the north of Toulousee, was born a bright boy christened Clément Marot, the son of an auto-taught poet named Jean and a lady whose life’s but a question mark; our focus thus shifts from his folks to their lad.
MMc16: A well-known scientist (some say it was Bertrand Russell) once gave a public lecture on astronomy.
MMc17: Kerin let out a slow breath, trying to calm the slamming of his heart against his chest.
MMc18: “There are dragons in the twins’ vegetable garden.”
