One Perfect Paragraph
So my assignment for Monday's creative writing class is to bring in a single paragraph of published literature that I find true/real/loved. Here are the preliminary candidates (there are probably a lot of them, and the list will probably grow over time rather than shrink like I need it to).
from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J. K. Rowling:
It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew-and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents-that there was all the difference in the world.
from A Thousand Words for Stranger, by Julie E. Czerneda:
Light fingers stroked my hair, investigating its new fullness. I closed my eyes, not needing vision, feeling the living stuff quiver under Morgan’s touch, winding in soft whirls around his hand, slipping up his arm to whisper across his cheek. “Sorceress,” Morgan growled out loud, but very quietly, his other hand buried deep in the hair at the back of my neck.
How inevitable, that I should turn in his light hold to look up and see how his blue eyes darkened. Inevitable, that my aching right hand should search out and grip his warmly in the welcome Yihtor had thought to force. In answer to some echoing need of his own, Morgan’s mouth lost its smile, coming down to press with infinite gentleness on mine. This was all there was, and should be, to life-a mutual comfort and excitement beyond any of my imaginings.
from Grave Peril by Jim Butcher:
The door burst open. Murphy came through it, her eyes living flames of azure blue, her hair a golden coronet around her. She held a blazing sword in her hand and she shone so bright and beautiful and terrifying in her anger that it was hard to see. The Sight, I realized, dimly. I was seeing her for who she was.
from White Night by Jim Butcher:
Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There’s the little empty pain of leaving something behind-graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There’s the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectatinos. There’s the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn’t give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There’s the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.
And if you’re very, very lucky, there are a few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last-and yet will remain with you for life.
from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen:
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” -Mr. Darcy
from The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux:
Poor, unhappy Erik! Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? He asked only to be “someone,” like everybody else. But he was too ugly! And he had to hide his genius or use it to play tricks with, when, with an ordinary face, he would have been one of the most distinguished of mankind! He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and in the end he had to content himself with a cellar. Surely we may pity the Opera ghost!
from Deep Wizardry, by Diane Duane:
What they saw was part of a disk four times the size of the moon as seen from Earth; and it seemed even bigger because of the Moon’s foreshortened horizon. It was not the full Earth so familiar from pictures, but a waning crescent, streaked with cloud swirls and burning with a fierce green-blue radiance-a light with a depth, like the fire held in the heart of an opal. That light banished the idea that blue and green were “cool” colors; one could have warmed one’s hands at that crescent. The blackness to which it shaded was ever so faintly touched with silver-a disk more hinted at than seen; the new Earth in the old Earth’s arms.
Those are all of them at the moment, but ther e are certainly more books I need to look through to find the quotes in there that I'm missing from this list. Most specifically, I need to look through: The Wizard's Dilemma and Wizard's Holiday by Diane Duane, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling. Also, So You Want to Be a Wizard probably merits a look-through. If there are any glaring omissions on my list, let me know. Also, I'm curious -- which paragraph (or, in one or two cases, paragraphs) is the most true/real/loved for you?
from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J. K. Rowling:
It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew-and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents-that there was all the difference in the world.
from A Thousand Words for Stranger, by Julie E. Czerneda:
Light fingers stroked my hair, investigating its new fullness. I closed my eyes, not needing vision, feeling the living stuff quiver under Morgan’s touch, winding in soft whirls around his hand, slipping up his arm to whisper across his cheek. “Sorceress,” Morgan growled out loud, but very quietly, his other hand buried deep in the hair at the back of my neck.
How inevitable, that I should turn in his light hold to look up and see how his blue eyes darkened. Inevitable, that my aching right hand should search out and grip his warmly in the welcome Yihtor had thought to force. In answer to some echoing need of his own, Morgan’s mouth lost its smile, coming down to press with infinite gentleness on mine. This was all there was, and should be, to life-a mutual comfort and excitement beyond any of my imaginings.
from Grave Peril by Jim Butcher:
The door burst open. Murphy came through it, her eyes living flames of azure blue, her hair a golden coronet around her. She held a blazing sword in her hand and she shone so bright and beautiful and terrifying in her anger that it was hard to see. The Sight, I realized, dimly. I was seeing her for who she was.
from White Night by Jim Butcher:
Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There’s the little empty pain of leaving something behind-graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There’s the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectatinos. There’s the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn’t give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There’s the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.
And if you’re very, very lucky, there are a few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last-and yet will remain with you for life.
from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen:
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” -Mr. Darcy
from The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux:
Poor, unhappy Erik! Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? He asked only to be “someone,” like everybody else. But he was too ugly! And he had to hide his genius or use it to play tricks with, when, with an ordinary face, he would have been one of the most distinguished of mankind! He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and in the end he had to content himself with a cellar. Surely we may pity the Opera ghost!
from Deep Wizardry, by Diane Duane:
What they saw was part of a disk four times the size of the moon as seen from Earth; and it seemed even bigger because of the Moon’s foreshortened horizon. It was not the full Earth so familiar from pictures, but a waning crescent, streaked with cloud swirls and burning with a fierce green-blue radiance-a light with a depth, like the fire held in the heart of an opal. That light banished the idea that blue and green were “cool” colors; one could have warmed one’s hands at that crescent. The blackness to which it shaded was ever so faintly touched with silver-a disk more hinted at than seen; the new Earth in the old Earth’s arms.
Those are all of them at the moment, but ther e are certainly more books I need to look through to find the quotes in there that I'm missing from this list. Most specifically, I need to look through: The Wizard's Dilemma and Wizard's Holiday by Diane Duane, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling. Also, So You Want to Be a Wizard probably merits a look-through. If there are any glaring omissions on my list, let me know. Also, I'm curious -- which paragraph (or, in one or two cases, paragraphs) is the most true/real/loved for you?