First Sentences

By Don Denio

Snowflakes - no two are the same. And you'll see in this book that first sentences are like snowflakes. Each first sentence, numbering over 1,000, have been placed in a category or two or more: Time, Weather, Name, Location, Short, Long, Death, Metaphors/Similes, Character Description, Quote, Question and Miscellaneous.

If you are a writer, see how others have started their novel. Was it with a single word? Or did it go on for 4 lines or more? Perhaps weather was involved - rain has been popular. Perhaps one of these sentences will spark an idea for a new chapter or a whole new book.

But you don't have to be a writer to enjoy the book. Any reader can get quite a taste in this sampler. You can read 20 books at a sitting and stop to make a call and then come back for 20 more. You don't have to wait until the end of the chapter like a book, but stop at any time - IF you can.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Denio
• Release date: Jul 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476040004

Book preview

First Sentences

Published and Compiled by Don Denio at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Don Denio

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Table of Contents

Time

Weather

Name

Location

Short

Long

Death

Metaphors/Similes

Character Description

Quote

Question

Miscellaneous

About the Book

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First sentences, like snowflakes – no two are the same – Unknown

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TIME (Time, day, night, month, season)

It was cold at 6:40 in the morning of a March day in Paris, and seems even colder when a man is about to be executed by a firing squad. The Day of the Jackal Frederick Forsyth

There was a thin robin’s-egg blue dawn coming up over Tel Aviv when the intelligence analyst finished typing his report. The Odessa File Frederick Forsyth

There were no stars that night on the bush airstrip, nor any moon; just the West African darkness wrapping round the scattered groups like warm, wet velvet. The Dog of War Frederick Forsyth

The man in gray decided to take the Glen Suite of diamonds at midnight. The Fourth Protocol Frederick Forsyth

In the summer of 1983 the then Chief of the British Secret Intelligence Service sanctioned the formation, against a certain internal opposition, of a new desk. The Deceiver Frederick Forsyth

It was the summer when the price of a small loaf of bread topped a million rubles. Icon Frederick Forsyth

Tom Sanders never intended to be late for work on Monday, June 15. Disclosure Michael Crichton

For forty-three workdays in a row Dismas Hardy had put on his suit and tie and made a point of coming downtown to the office that he had rented. The 13th Juror John T. Lescroart

They came from the south with the morning sun, shimmering like ghosts in a desert mirage as they slipped across the sun-sparkled water. Inca Gold Clive Cussler

Two minutes, and they’re nervous already. Winterhawk Craig Thomas

The pale, chill light of the October afternoon fell sullenly across the garden, casting long, deep shadows from the apple trees and the tall hedge. Wildcat Craig Thomas

In the early month of 1942, a Major of the U.S. Army Ordnance Corps in Australia was forced to reconsider his long-held belief that he’d passed the point where the Army could surprise him. Line of Fire W.E.B Griffin

Mary Elizabeth Flannery first came to the attention of the Police Department of the city of Philadelphia at 9:21 P.M., June 29, 1973, when an unidentified civilian called the Police Emergency number and reported that as she and her husband had been driving through Fairmount Park, going down Bell’s Mill road toward Chestnut Hill, they had seen a naked woman, just walking around, on the Chestnut Hill side of the bridge over Wissahickon Creek. Special Operations W.E.B Griffin

They were getting ready to shoot somebody in the inner courtyard, which meant it was Monday, because Monday was execution day. The Savage Day Jack Higgins

As rain drifted across Berlin in a great curtain on the final evening of March, a black Mercedes limousine moved along Wilhelmstrasse toward the new Reich Chancellery, which had only opened in January. Sheba Jack Higgins

As Meyer turned the corner in the old hearse, he reduced speed, his hands slippery with sweat as they gripped the wheel, his stomach tightening as he drove toward the checkpoint, clear in the night under the harsh white light of the arc lamps. Day of Judgement Jack Higgins

As the yellow Telecoms truck turned the corner, Grosvenor Place was quiet in the rain, not another vehicle in sight, hardly surprising in view of the weather and the fact that it was three o’clock in the morning. Exocet Jack Higgins

Just after four as first light started to seep through the bamboo slats above his head, it rained again, slowly at first, developing into a solid drenching downpour from which there was no escape. Season in Hell Jack Higgins

The city seemed to be on fire, a kind of hell on earth, the ground shaking as shells exploded, and as dawn came, smoke drifted in a black pall. Thunderpoint Jack Higgins

At midmorning of a broiling summer day the life of Three Counties Hospital ebbed and flowed like tide currents around an offshore island. The Final Diagnosis Arthur Hailey

On the afternoon and early evening of December 23, the three events occurred, seemingly unconnected and, in distance, three thousand miles apart. In High Places Arthur Hailey

At half-past six on a Friday evening in January, Lincoln International Airport, Illinois, was functioning, though with difficulty. Airport Arthur Hailey

Long afterward, many would remember those two days in the first week of October with vividness and anguish. The Moneychangers Arthur Hailey

At 10:35 P.M. on January 27, Malcolm Ainslie was halfway to the outer door of Homicide when a phone rang behind him. Detective Arthur Hailey

The hull of the submarine was lashed to the huge pilings, a behemoth strapped in silhouette, the sweeping lines of its bow arcing into the light of the North Sea dawn. The Holcroft Covenant Robert Ludlum

The band of carolers huddled at the corner, stamping their feet and swinging their arms, their young voices penetrating the cold night air between the harsh sounds of automobile horns and police whistles and the metallic strains of Christmas music blaring from storefront speakers. The Matarese Circle Robert Ludlum

Darkness had descended on Manassas, Virginia, the countryside alive with nocturnal undercurrents, as Bourne crept through the woods bordering the estate of General Norman Swayne. The Bourne Ultimatum Robert Ludlum

The cold rays of the moon streaked down from the night sky and bounced off the rolling surf, which burst into suspended sprays of white where isolated waves crashed into the rocks of the shoreline. The Parsifal Mosaic Robert Ludlum

The small, decrepit office on the top floor of the government building was from another era, which is to say nobody but the present occupant had used it in sixty-four years and eight months. The Road to Omaha Robert Ludlum

Sundown. The Scorpio Illusion Robert Ludlum

The Alpine pass, high in the Austrian Hausruck, was swept by the winter snow and assaulted by the cold north winds, while far below, a valley sprouted crocuses and the jonquils of early spring. The Apocalypse Watch Robert Ludlum

In May 1979, only days after Britain’s new Conservative government came to power, the yellow box that contains the daily report from MI6 to the Prime Minister was delivered to her by a deputy Secretary in the Cabinet Office. XPD Len Deighton

Ten minutes to midnight: a pious Friday evening in May and a fine river mist lying in the market square. A Small Town in Germany John Lecarré

In the small hours of a blustery October morning in a South Devon coastal town that seemed to have been deserted by its inhabitants, Magnus Pym got out of his elderly country taxi-cab and, having paid the driver and waited till he had left, struck across the church square. A Perfect Spy John Lecarré

On a snow-swept January evening of 1991, Jonathan Pine, the English night manager of the Hotel Meister Palace in Zurich, forsook his office behind the reception desk and, in the grip of feelings he had not know before, took up his position in the lobby as a prelude to extending his hotel’s welcome to a distinguished late arrival. The Night Manager John Lecarré

It was a slow Sunday afternoon, the kind Walden loved. The Man from St. Petersburg Ken Follett

It was the coldest winter for forty-five years. Eye of the Needle Ken Follett

The last camel collapsed at noon. The Key to Rebecca Ken Follett

Earlier that night, rain had fallen on Boulevard St. Laurent, and there were still triangular pools on the uneven sidewalk. The Eiger Sanction Trevanan

In the Samarian hills, overlooking the Plain of Sharon, four men stood quietly in the predawn darkness. By the Rivers of Babylon Nelson DeMille

I first met Frank Bellarosa on a sunny Saturday in April at Hick’s Nursery, an establishment that has catered to the local gentry for over a hundred years. The Gold Coast Nelson DeMille

Keith Laundry was going home after twenty-five years at the front. Spencerville Nelson DeMille

The starboard bow catapult fired, and the A-6A Intruder accelerated down the flight deck with a roar that engulfed the aircraft carrier and reverberated over the night sea. Flight of the Intruder Stephen Coontz

They called it the witching hour, the time from 8:00 P.M. to 1:00 A.M. when the smugglers seemed to come out of the woodwork. Hammerheads Dale Brown

The chirping calls of crickets and tree frogs, the cries of lizards, and the whining hum of mosquitoes diminished as the gray predawn light washed slowly over the small jungle clearing. Mission M.I.A. J. C. Pollock

The wind buffeted and tore at the parachute canopy, tossing it erratically about the night sky. Pay Back J. C. Pollock

June 12, 1991, dawned a near-perfect, late-spring day as the sun’s rays touched the eastern shores of the North American continent. Contagion Robin Cook

Not another night. Zero Eric Van Lustbader

All spirits vanish with the dawn. French Kiss Eric Van Lustbader

On Palm Sunday, one year after the Great War against the Santadio, Don Domenico Clerieuzio celebrated the christening of two infants of his own blood and made the most important decision of his life. The Last Don Mario Puzo

A shaft of golden morning sunlight filtered through a window high on the wall to Jeffery’s left and knifed down through the courtroom, hitting the paneled wall behind the judge’s bench like a spotlight. Harmful Intent Robin Cook

Helen Cabot gradually awoke as dawn emerged from the winter darkness blanketing Boston, MA. Terminal Robin Cook

February seventeenth was a fateful day for Sam Flemming. Fatal Cure Robin Cook

Now the August day has come when he and Secretary of State Orrin Knox are to go to the Washington Monument Grounds and there before their countrymen pledge their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor – and as much cooperation with each other as they can manage. Come Nineveh, Come Tyre Allen Drury

Now the August day has come when he and Governor Edward Montoya Jason of California are to go to the Washington Monument Grounds and there before their countrymen pledge their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor – and as much cooperation with each other as they can manage. The Promise of Joy Allen Drury

When Bob Munson awoke in his apartment at the Sheraton-Park Hotel at seven thirty-one in the morning he had the feeling it would be a bad day. Advise and Consent Allen Drury

In the great pearl-gray slab of a room that is the North Delegates’ Lounge of the United Nations in New York the late-September sun slanted down through the massive east windows and fell across the green carpets, the crowded chairs and sofas, the little knots of delegates standing or sitting or milling about in the midmorning hours before the General Assembly’s seven committees began. A Shade of Difference Allen Drury

I met Bobby Callahan on Monday of that week. C is for Corpse Sue Grafton

It was Monday, December 27, and I was sitting in my office, trying to get a fix on the mood I was in, which was bad, bad, bad, comprised of equal parts irritation and uneasiness. E is for Evidence Sue Grafton

Three things occurred on or about May 5, which is not only Cinco de Mayo in California, but Happy Birthday to me. G is for Gumshoe Sue Grafton

Robert Dietz came back into my life on Wednesday, January 8. M is for Malice Sue Grafton

It was raining in Richmond on Friday, June 6. Postmortem Patricia Cornwell

On the sixteenth of October, shadowy deer crept to the edge of the dark woods beyond my window as the sun peeked over the cover of the night. Body Farm Patricia Cornwell

Christmas Eve was cold and treacherous with black ice, and crime crackling on scanners. From Potter’s Field Patricia Cornwell

On the last morning of Virginia’s bloodiest year since the Civil War, I built a fire and sat facing a window of darkness where at sunrise I knew I would find the sea. Cause of Death Patricia Cornwell

That morning, summer sulked and gathered darkly over Charlotte, and heat simmered on pavement. Hornet’s Nest Patricia Cornwell

The upper quadrant of a sun that would scorch the desert blossomed on the horizon, livid red and rising fast into an inky sky. Murder at the Pentagon Margaret Truman

Max Pauling left the private airport outside Albuquerque, New Mexico, at six in the morning and flew to a small airstrip in Arizona, near the town of Maverick, on the southern rim of the White Mountains. Murder in Havana Margaret Truman

Washington smells good in springtime. Murder on K Street Margaret Truman

Travel guides claim that the average high temperature in Washington, D.C., in September is seventy-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Murder at Ford’s Theater Margaret Truman

The broad barge creaked in the still May night as a team of mules on the towpath strained against their ropes to free it from its mooring. Murder in Georgetown Margaret Truman

The night was cold; November’s snow barked deep along the curb. Exceptional Clearance William J. Caunitz

The Third Marines were bleeding and dying for three nameless hills north of the Khe Sanh in 1967. The Choir Boys Joseph Wambaugh

A cold November rain beat down on the dark Harlem street, rapping a staccato tattoo on battered trash-can lids and car roofs. Line of Duty Michael Grant

The morning hours of the night come imperceptibly here. Hail, Hail, The Gang’s All Here Ed McBain

Detective Richard Genero did not like to go out on night calls. Lightning Ed McBain

The great fish moved silently through the night water, propelled by short sweeps of its crescent tail. Jaws Peter Benchley

Fog swirled around powerful spotlights in the darkest hours before dawn. Show of Evil William Diehl

By 9 P.M. the storm had broken with full