Showing posts with label The Hobbit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Hobbit. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

To begin at the beginning...


While browsing for post through The Penslayer's blog archives, I stumbled upon this. While, admittedly, an old posting, I loved the idea. And since it was a quick and fun thing to do, I decided to give it a go! (Although if I have my way there will be a real review up soon on C.S. Lewis' "Till We Have Faces.")

Now on to the fun part: the beginnings of some of my favorite stories:

Till We Have Faces C.S. Lewis: I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of the gods.

The Fellowship of the Ring J.R.R. Tolkien: When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk excitement in Hobbiton.

The Hobbit J.R.R. Tolkien: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Stepping Heavenward Mrs. E. Prentiss: How dreadfully old I am getting! Sixteen! Well, I don't see as I can help it.

To Kill a Mockingbird Harper Lee: When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Rose in Bloom Louisa May Alcott: Three young men stood together on a wharf one bright October day awaiting the arrival of an ocean steamer with an impatience which found vent lively skirmish with a small lad, who pervaded the premises like a will-o'-the-wisp and afforded much amusement to the other groups assembled there.

Rebecca Dauphne du Maurier: Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again...

The Secret Life of Bees Sue Monk Kidd: At nI would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees squeezed through the cracks of my bedroom wall and flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high- pitched zzzzz that hummed along my skin.

Plenilune Jennifer Freitag: Margaret Coventry stood on the platform at Leeds with a rain-speckled umbrella folded in one hand and her carpetbag in the other.

Emma Jane Austen: Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

Voice in the Wind Francine Rivers: The city was silently bloating in the hot sun, rotting like the thousands of bodies that lay where they had fallen in street battles.

And finally, because I am really a three year old on the inside, good ol' Winnie the Pooh...

The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh A.A. Milne: Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin.