Lines from historicals that have made you dream big?

Hip-Hop-a-potamus

My rhymes are bottomless
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This would be a flipside to the thread about lines that made us facepalm. What are some lines that have made you sigh from their perfection? I'm talking about those that have inspired you and made you want to become a better writer.

I have a couple I can start with:

From Hot Springs by Stephen Hunter (a guy is recruited by the feds to break up organized crime in the 1940s in Hot Springs, Arkansas before Vegas became THE gambling destination).

He mixes real celebrities in with the fictional characters-- including movie stars, the gamblers, and their ladies. I loved this exchange between Bugsy Siegel and Errol Flynn (over Bugsy's moll, Virginia Hill) [and note-- some of us know that Errol Flynn is from Tasmania, but the gangster is ignorant, and just knows he sounds different, but unsure how]:

"Hello darling, your bosom is magnificent."
"Hit the road, you limey puke."


Another I find completely brilliant is from Chiefs by Stuart Woods (sort of a John Wayne Gacy story based in a small town in Georgia from right after World War I to the Kennedy administration...). This is the new sheriff, Will Henry Lee, and a young boy circa 1919:

Will Henry took a deep breath.
"You ever seen a dead person, Brother?"
"No, sir."
"Well, how do you know he's dead?" Will Henry thought maybe the boy had come upon a bum sleeping in the woods.
"Well, he's nekkid, sir. And there's ants in his eyes."


What are some of yours? I'm curious. And it will help expose us to some periods or content we might not have checked out before.

:)
 

gothicangel

Toughen up.
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Oh, that's a tough one. As you may have guessed [:D] my favourite HF is Rosemary's Sutcliff's The Eagle of the Ninth. What blew me away was not just dialogue but her sheer descriptive powers:

He had seen these rolling woods in their winter bareness, dappled like a partridge breast. He had seen the first outbreaking of the blackthorn foam; and now the full green flame of springwas running through the forest and the wild cherry-trees stood like lit candles along the woodland ways.

I've just finished Hiliary Mantel's Bring Up The Bodies and have to mention the awesome opening lines.

His children are falling out of the sky. He watches from horse-back, acres of England stretching behind him; they dropped gilt-winged, each with a blood-filled gaze. Grace Cromwell hovers in thin air. She is silent when she takes her prey, silent as she glides to his fist. But the sound that she makes then, the rustle of feathers and the creak, the sigh and riffle of pinion, the small cluck-cluck from her throat, these are the sounds of recognition, intimate, daughterly, almost disapproving. Her breast is gore-streaked and flesh clinging to her claws.
 

Hip-Hop-a-potamus

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Ooh. Good stuff.

Don't think I've ever heard falconing described in detail before.