Post great last lines of stories you love.

I mean written stories of course. My hatred of film is venomous, deep, and as hot as Natalie Portman.

It can be more than a single sentence, but try not to set off the mods’ “Respect Copyright, Damn It!” alarms.

I’ll begin:

“…he had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.”

“Well, I’m back.”

“He wishes he had never entered the funhouse. But he has. Then he wishes he were dead. But he’s not. Therefore he will construct funhouses for others and be their secret operator–though he would rather be among the lovers for whom funhouses are designed.” John Barth, “Lost in the Funhouse”

As much as I object to the world view of this story, I found the ending poignant and beautiful.

“And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.”

“Lord of the Flies” by William Golding

Skald, would it bring the wrath of bees, flying monkeys, or similar dangers upon myself to point out the typo in your quote?

Course not. But I don’t see it. Can you bold it for to help out an old man?

–Isaac Asimov, “The Last Question”

– Flowers for Algernon, Daniel Keyes.

I hope that I did not make any typos there.

“‘The road is cleared,’ said Galt. ‘We are going back to the world.’ He raised his hand and over the desolate earth he traced in space the sign of the dollar.”

“The Ramans do everything in threes.”

Arthur C. Clarke: The Star
I read this when I still believed, but had my doubts, and it really got me.

There can be no reasonable doubt: the ancient mystery is solved at last. Yet, oh God, there were so many stars you could have used. What was the need to give these people to the fire, that the symbol of their passing might shine above Bethlehem?

“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

  • James Joyce, The Dead

“A chill night breeze came whispering down from the depths of the valley, and suddenly the place was full of ghosts, shadows of men alive and dead, my own among them.”

Just remembered another:

“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” - The Great Gatsby

The end of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House:

“Hill House itself, not sane, stood against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, its walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there walked alone.”

“The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off.”

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

I hope I won’t come off as junior-modding when I ask that people actually post the author of the piece and title of the story.