Literature — lines worth keeping

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

It was a pleasure to burn.

Not all those who wander are lost.

It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

It is not down on any map; true places never are.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns.

Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.

I had been mysteriously handcuffed to history.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

The horror! The horror!

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.

I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces.

The small boys came early to the hanging.

A boy is coming down a flight of stairs.

Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

How can a novelist achieve atonement when, with her absolute power of deciding outcomes, she is also God?

Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last.