Best Book Opening Lines Novels & Stories

But Emily didn't say anything. Back at their table, Jane opened a Tale of Two Cities to see how bad it was going to be. 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," read the opening line. Charles Dickens could have been talking about Jane's own life.

I said. “So,” he said simply and pushed the door open. I followed him in. Grayson pulled a book out. Read the back. Put it back. Pulled another. I watched him. “This one,” he said. Holding it up. I read the title. A novel. The kind with a character on the cover looking at something just out of frame. “What made you choose it?” I said. “The first line,” he said. He opened it and read quietly. “He had spent so long building walls that when they finally came down he didn’t know whether to feel free or exposed.”

Sasha looked through the shelves quietly while Felix flicked the book open. He started with the prologue and it was actually quite well written. The first sentence started with the weather in a local state in London. The way the imagery and content of book was presented seemed to lighten his mood. Across of him was Sasha who was watching him. She smiled as it seemed he would read the book for a longer period of time, that would give her enough time to finish the romance book she'd pick up the previous day. She grinned in her mind and continued her reading.

I reached out and delicately retrieved it from the shelf, cradling it in my hands. A surge of anticipation coursed through my veins as I opened the book, its pages pristine and unmarred. The words within held the promise of hidden truths, a key to unlock the enigma that had consumed my thoughts. I read the title embossed in elegant lettering: "Tears of the Moon: Secrets Untold." My heart raced with excitement as I turned to the first page. The words danced before my eyes, weaving a narrative of forbidden knowledge and clandestine affairs. It spoke of a world beyond the ordinary, a realm where ancient forces converged and hidden battles waged under the pale light of the moon.

I took the note and read it: Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. I kissed thee ere I killed thee: no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. It was my favourite part of the book. The first sentence being the one I adored the most. I sighed, not sure how I wanted to go about my day. I've got to study, yet that picture I found kept bothering me. I needed answers.

With him occupied, I pulled out the book I had managed to slip away from the library. The title ‘MINE’ was embossed in gold, though the letters were slightly worn as if they had been traced a thousand times. I opened the first page, expecting a ledger or a cold list of assets. Instead, I found a confession. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and heavy with intent, like a chronicle of an obsession. Page after page, the author described a woman with a poetic, almost frightening reverence. He wrote about the way her hair caught the morning light, the specific, melodic pitch of her laugh, and the way she tasted like summer rain and secrets.

Every moment is this. Without moment. This. The light that is. The love that is. The being that is. The this that is. Only this. The book never opened. Because there was no cover. The book never closed. Because there was no ending. The book was the opening. The book was the reading. The book was the read. All one. Without one. This. The final chapter is not final. There was no first. There was no sequence. Only this. Appearing as sequence.

I found a book, called 'last time' I opened the book to a random page, somewhere in the middle and proceeded to read the first paragraph 'Jodie knew that Darren would look for her, even as she hid from him, she was crying quietly now, she was scared he would find her, she needed to escape but for some reason she couldn't blink, maybe it was the tears, maybe Darren drugged her, who knew, she soon heard footsteps, she covered her mouth so Darren could not hear her, she pleaded, in her mind, with the gods to save her' I closed the book, it seemed interesting, I carried the book to a comfortable looking green recliner, I sat down in the chair with my legs crossed underneath me, I opened the book

"Thank you." "The line you added at the very end," Evelyn continued. "The line about the kitchen knowing what it is—that is your first sentence and your last sentence." Aurora gripped the edge of the desk. "You want to build the entire narrative around that?" "Yes," the editor stated firmly. "The book begins with a kitchen that does not know yet. It ends with a kitchen that finally does. Everything in between is the process of knowing." "The process of knowing," Aurora whispered.