Note: This is not a game. It’s not “Guess the book I’m reading”. It’s merely just to give others a glimpse and taste of what you’re slogging through right now and maybe interest them into your tastes (if it, indeed, interests them).
About copyrights: I’ve already asked about this thread idea and it was found to be all right as long as the excerpt is little. I think two paragraphs is all right, however, base your judgement on the length of the paragraphs on page 52, please.. If it’s a long two paragraphs, then just post one. If it’s, like mine, a short two paragraphs, it should be okay.
Here’s the first two paragraphs on page 52 of my “currently reading” book:
*The blood began to roil in my chest. “You’re not gonna do this for me, are you?”
“I can’t do this for you, Lindsay. And if I did, whatever you found wouldn’t make arraignment. Look, I could try to cut a deal with them.”*
“You cut her head off when I wasn’t looking!” he cried. “How dare you! Right, that does it. I’m really angry now!”
And waving his wooden arms like a windmill, he leapt at the two actors and belabored them mercilessly. The audience went wild. But the actors were getting cross now, and they fought back, and then Rigatelli himself came bustling up to try and restore order.
Re-reading an old favorite I grabbed for an airline flight a few days ago.
*Late that same 'Darkday the Wellenan column made camp where the Tineway met the Post Road, and some one hundred twenty miles south of Stonehill and the Battle Downs.
The next 'Darkday Vidron’s force turned south-eastward along the Post Road, riding through the bleak Winternight. Down through the southern reaches of Harth they rode, and the ground-eating pace of the Valanreach long-ride hammered away at the iron-hard, snow-covered 'scape, and miles of frozen land faded behind them.*
Hrmm… that didn’t sound very exciting at all, out of context [:dubious:]
A large middle-aged woman of upright figure and stern visage, rose from her seat in the centre of the hall and walk sedately towards the platform. The assembly knew that here was a witness whose word would be accepted without question, for her reputation for respectability and pious observance stood high in the community. After she has taken her place on the platform, the Elder spoke in an ironic tone of voice…"
He did not think that the spaces he looked up at were silent, or dark or empty. Far from being silent, they were perpetually filled with sweet, immeasurable sound. The vast hollow spheres, turning each at its proper interval inside its superior, have out a blended harmony. There were various explanations of the fact that we do not hear it. One of the oldest and most pleasing was based on the travellers’ tale that those who lived near the great cataract on the Nile were unconscious of its noise. Beause they had always heard it they never heard it. The same would obviously hold true in an even higher degree of the music of the spheres. This is the only sound which has never for one split second ceased in any part of the univers; with this positive we have no negative to contrast. Presumably if (per impossibile it ever did stop, then with terror and dismay, with a dislocation of our whole auditory life, we should feel that the bottom had dropped out of our lives. But it never does. The music which is too familiar to be heard enfolds us day and night and in all ages.
“If the gurus offered nothing but cracker-mottoes, their appeal might have been limited to a few simpletons; but the faux naivety was cunningly seasoned with an equally faux sophistication. They made liberal use of neologistic jargon – re-engineering, demassing, downsizing, benchmarking – to give their cliches an appearance of scientific method and intellectual rigor. And it worked: Even grizzled New York police chiefs and four-star generals began babbling about “the mobility pool” and “proactive outplacement.” (“Of course this benchmarking is only a rough guide,” one Pentagon official told a reporter. “The ultimate benchmarking activity is war.”) Stephen Covey’s client-list in the U.S. included the departments of energy, defense, interior and transportation, the postal service – and Bill Clinton, who invited both Covey and Anthony Robbins to spend the weekend with him in December 1994.”
Wouldn’t you know it, page 52 is blank. It’s the break point between chapters. Is page 54 all right?
I’d been singing Tutti Frutti for years, but it never struck me as the kind of song you’d record. I didn’t go to New Orleans to record no Tutti Frutti. Sure, it used to crack the crowds up when I sang it in the clubs, with those risque lyrics: “Tutti Frutti, good booty / if it don’t fit, don’t force it / You can grease it, make it easy…” But I never thought it would be a hit, even with the lyrics cleaned up.
Well, I was at home in Macon when I heard them play it on Randy’s Record Mart, Radio WLAC out of Nashville, Tennessee. The disc jockey, Gene Nobles, said, “This is the hottest record in the country. This guy Little Richard is taking the record market by storm!” I couldn’t believe it. My old song a hit! Then I got a call from Specialty to come to Hollywood - the record was breaking wide open. I left the band and went to make personal appearances there.
“Well, yes I did,” answered Jim, “but come to think of it, thay wasn’t part of what we all told your father and brothers last night-”
“Oh, I asked Giles a lot of questions about you!” She smiled mischievously and her whole face lit up. “He even told me about this fairy who lived in the lake who fell in love with you and followed you leagues and leagues right up to the battlefield between the French and English. That must have caused you some problems.”
p. 52 has less than two paragraphs on it, so I’ll put the first (partial one) :
…And now that she was out of sight he found his brain on fire with doubts. Was this what he had been sent to meet? He had been expecting wonders, had been prepared for wonders, but not prepared for a goddess carved apparently out of green stone, yet alive. And then it flashed across his mind — he had not noticed it while the scene was before him — that she had been strangely accompanied. She had stood up amidst a throng of beasts and birds as a tall sapling stands among bushes — big pigeon-coloured birds and flame-coloured birds, and dragons, and beaver-like creatures about the size of rats, and heraldic-looking fish in the sea at her feet. Or had he imagined that? Was this the beginning of the hallucinations he had feared? Or another myth coming out into the world of fact — perhaps a more terrible myth, of Circe or Alcina? And the expression on her … what had she expected to find that made the finding of him such a disappointment?
Dodd showed no reaction to the regiment’s appearance, though all the same he was impressed. These men were smart and their weapons were as clean as those of his own sepoys who, re-issued with white jackets, now paraded as an extra company at the regiment’s left flank…
Most of the men looked up into Dodd’s eyes as he walked by, although few looked at him for long, but instead glanced quickly away. Joubert saw the reaction, and sympathised with it, for there was something distinctly unpleasant about the Englishman’s long, sour face that edged on the frightening.
“What?”
“For the one you just put in your pocket, Fred.”
That didn’t turn out very well. I can post the only two paragraphs that’s not dialogue on page 52 (The second one spills over into page 53), but that would make it very obvious what series the book is from. I’ll do so if someone asks.
“…Good Samaritan–to take him into my apartment, this absolutely microscopic little apartment that I can hardly move around in myself. I introduce him to all my friends. Let him clutter up the whole apartment with his horrible manuscript papers, and cigarette butts, and radishes, and whatnot. Introduce him to every theatrical producer in New York. Haul his filthy shirts back and forth from the laundry. And all top of it all–” The young man broke off. “And the result of all my kindness and decency,” he went on, “is that he walks out of the house at five or six in the morning–without so much as leaving a note behind–taking with him anything and everything he can lay his filthy, dirty hands on.” He paused to drag on his cigarette, and exhaled the smoke in a thin, sibilant stream from his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it. I really don’t.” He looked over at Ginnie. “I love your coat,” he said, already out of his chair. He crossed over and took the lapel of Ginnie’s polo coat between his fingers. “It’s lovely. It’s the first really good camel’s hair I’ve seen since the war. May I ask where you got it?”
"Ian, " Phillip Chen began, “those shares…” But his resolve wavered under the power of Dunross’s will. “6 percent… A little over 6 percent. I … You’ll have it as you wish.”
“You won’t regret it.” Dunross put his attention of Alastair Straun and the older man’s heart misses a beat. “How much stock have we? How much’s held by nominees?”
"…can be seen from the four double bunks to each side. A mantlet stands between this room and that to the north, giving solid protection to the defenders. Several brown cloaks hang from pegs driven through the plaster into wall cracks. A jug and several cups are on the table. Eight small chests are shoved under the bunks.
The half-orc has 1-4 cp and 1-4 sp. Each of the other guards has 1-6 ep and 1-8 gp. The jug is half-filled with watered wine. Each chest holds only worthless clothing, harness, etc.
Guess what I’m doing?
Others were not so bashful. They made themselves richer than they had ever been or ever would be again.
But they had little time to revel in it. As the sun rose over the African dunes and they buried the remaining bag of Spanish pieces of eight in the sand, they noticed a wild-looking man about half a mile away, walking up the beach toward them.
It’s merely just to give others a glimpse and taste of what you’re slogging through right now and maybe interest them into your tastes (if it, indeed, interests them).