Favorite lines you've written

guttersquid

I agree with Roxxsmom.
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The waitress scooped three menus off the counter near the cash register and took them to the punks. Even from where I was sitting I could see the bruise around her upper arm and the one on her cheek, which suggested a relationship with a man who liked to grab and hold on when he hit. But the white band on her finger where a ring used to be showed she’d finally had enough and had left the bastard.
 

thedark

Weaving through the night.
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The waitress scooped three menus off the counter near the cash register and took them to the punks. Even from where I was sitting I could see the bruise around her upper arm and the one on her cheek, which suggested a relationship with a man who liked to grab and hold on when he hit. But the white band on her finger where a ring used to be showed she’d finally had enough and had left the bastard.

Ohh I like this. Tells us how the MC feels about it all, and tells me plenty enough about the waitress to like her and hope she's got a presence in the novel. This'd be a fine way to start introducing a character into the narrative, too. :)
 

PandaMan

Panda girls are the best!
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The waitress scooped three menus off the counter near the cash register and took them to the punks. Even from where I was sitting I could see the bruise around her upper arm and the one on her cheek, which suggested a relationship with a man who liked to grab and hold on when he hit. But the white band on her finger where a ring used to be showed she’d finally had enough and had left the bastard.

Excellent characterization going on here. I have a good idea who these people are in three sentences.

Great job guttersquid!
 

PandaMan

Panda girls are the best!
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And there it was – the big lie. It barely stood out from the rest of his polished speech, like a fat fly baked into a blueberry muffin.

Lol. I'm eating a blueberry muffin as I read this. I had to look twice to make sure there were no flies.

Great simile Donkey.
 

sayamini

i could go for another cappuccino.
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See, events aren’t really events. They’re more like nodes. And each one has a bunch of consequences that form “events” of their own, when in reality they’re just tiny links in a whole web of things that happened and will happen and might happen and didn’t happen, and you keep trying to look for reasons and explanations and chronological order in this whole mess. You know what that means? It means you’re trying to navigate through a bowl of noodle soup, and let me tell you—that’s no way to make sense of anything.

So there’s no first noodle, or second noodle, or fifth or seventh or twelfth noodle, but let me try and tell you about a different noodle so we can lead up to the Division noodle and the apartment-business noodle. And think of these as interlocking and sometimes concurring events, so you don’t drown in your soup.

This is a fun narrator to write.
 

meowzbark

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Need to tighten up this scene still, but it made me laugh when I found it in my WIP. I love asshole characters. BTW, Trudy is Shawn's wife.
----------------

“I sold a painting today,” Carrie said.
“Congratulations,” Shawn said.
“It’s the one I painted of you. Your miracle-making hands.”
“I didn’t know you made one of me,” Shawn said.
She tapped the side of her head. ”Benefit of a photographic memory. No modeling required.”
“Haven’t made one of Trudy yet, have you?”
“Haven’t found a canvass wide enough for her ass,” Carrie said.
 

Rebel-Dynasty

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It will probably undergo some tweaking, but here's a bit of dialogue between my main Antagonist and his subordinates:

“You guys can relax,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The fact that you failed doesn’t really come as a surprise. Not only did you underestimate the daemon—even now whose powers we know next to nothing about—you were ignorant of the phoenix’s strength. Even if his daemon pal hadn’t been around, you still would have lost. The firebird alone is stronger than the three of you put together.”

“Over-glorified fire chicken…” Misa muttered. Judging from the way she quailed under his baleful glare, the female Akuma hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“That ‘over-glorified fire chicken’, as you call him, is responsible for the imprisonment and deaths of many of our brethren,” Reeves flared up, “You would do well to remember that, Misa…or had you forgotten that even I once fell victim to his flames?” His voice took on a quiet edge, more lethal and deadly than if he’d roared in outrage.
 

Twick

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This one's a description of a first kiss:

"She raises a hand, and caresses my face. As if I weren’t ugly. As if the touch pleased her. "
 

ArachnePhobia

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Here's one I found in edits today:

"You make me feel every century of my sixteen years, Chance."
 

PandaMan

Panda girls are the best!
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Just want to give a shout out to Charlie Horse for starting this thread. It's one of my favorites.:)
 

BethS

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A little something:

At the door, she cast a glance back into the room. She felt like a spirit leaving behind a familiar haunt, but one on which she'd made very little impression. Just another soul drifting through, lingering for awhile, then departing, like Zared's poor, mad wife. After the chamber had been tidied, no trace of her would remain, nothing to tell of the woman who'd slept in the bed and dreamed, and stared into the mirror and despaired.
 

Viridian

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This one was in my sig a week ago:

And then there was no sound at all, though Crow strained to listen. Only soft noises, things that could have been a kiss or a door creaking, things that could have been movement or Crow’s imagination. Crow’s imagination was everything then – it was their hands on each other, it was sighs and soft looks, it was a knife in his ribs.

Crow is in love with two people. Those people are in love with each other. Poor Crow. :)
 

Twick

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This one's a little long:

Gaeda raises the lamp, and shines it on one wall. It’s covered with carvings; names laboriously scraped into the stone, perhaps by a spare bit of metal such as a belt buckle, or a rock chip. Maybe, I don’t know, by their owners’ fingernails.

“Why have they carved their names here?” I ask.

“Perhaps to reassure themselves that they exist. To imagine someone coming after them, and saying ‘this person was here, they were alive once.’ To have faith that they did not disappear into nothingness.”

I look over the wall, searching for a name. Ah, there it is. The letters are large, and somehow defiant. “GETHELREAD WOLFWIND.”

Below it, I find a further inscription in the same hand. I have to stop for a second, and take a deep breath. “I WILL NOT DIE HERE.”

“Yes,” I say to Gaeda, as I trace the runes with my hand, “I see.”
 

Rebel-Dynasty

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This one's a little long:

Gaeda raises the lamp, and shines it on one wall. It’s covered with carvings; names laboriously scraped into the stone, perhaps by a spare bit of metal such as a belt buckle, or a rock chip. Maybe, I don’t know, by their owners’ fingernails.

“Why have they carved their names here?” I ask.

“Perhaps to reassure themselves that they exist. To imagine someone coming after them, and saying ‘this person was here, they were alive once.’ To have faith that they did not disappear into nothingness.”

I look over the wall, searching for a name. Ah, there it is. The letters are large, and somehow defiant. “GETHELREAD WOLFWIND.”

Below it, I find a further inscription in the same hand. I have to stop for a second, and take a deep breath. “I WILL NOT DIE HERE.”

“Yes,” I say to Gaeda, as I trace the runes with my hand, “I see.”

I really liked this one; it's something I think most anyone can relate to, in one way or another. ^^