Just now I can feel that little quivering of the pen which has always foreshadowed the happy delivery of a good book. --Emile Zola
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Sunday Sentence: "The Mistletoe Bough" by Anthony Trollope
Simply put, the best sentence(s) I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.
She had shipwrecked her own happiness in rejecting Godfrey Holmes, but it seemed to her to be the proper thing that a well-behaved young lady should shipwreck her own happiness. In the last month or two she had been tossed about by the waters and was nearly drowned. Now there was beautiful land again close to her, and a strong, pleasant hand stretched out to save her; but, though she had suffered terribly among the waves, she still thought it wrong to be saved.
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