285 Quotes About First-lines

When someone tells you that your little brother might die, you're quick to agree to anything.

On the twenty-fifth day of March, an extraordinary strange incident occurred in Petersburg.

Dr Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by literature

When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world.

It's late at night when the memory comes for me, like it always seems to when the relief of sleep seems ready to draw me under.

I am remembering something. At first it comes to me as a feeling. It is comforting. It is a place I want to be. It is home. Is it the memory of a dream? It is indistinct, but real. I am holding only a thread. And I do not want to let go.

I don't like killing, but I'm good at it. Murder isn't so bad from a distance, just shapes popping up in my scope. Close-up work though - a garrotte around a target's neck or a knife in their heart - it's not for me. Too much empathy, that's my problem. Usually. But not today. Today is different . . .

I never really wanted to die. But I followed through anyway. The pain in my heart was excruciating, and death was beautiful.

Like most forms of corruption, it began with men in suits.