Indian summer is like a woman.
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
Who is John Galt?
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
The first time Caesar approached Cora about running north, she said no.
A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head.
You think you know how this story is going to end, but you don't.
There is no lake at Camp Green Lake.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.
