Lines that have provoked a physical reaction...

Just about anything by Anais Nin has caused a physical reaction...

However there was a line from the John Irving's "A Son of the Circus" where the main character (the name escapes me) is asked where he is from and he replies...."I'm from the circus". I was in tears.

Also, the scene in "of mice and men" where George "takes care" of Lenny - the first time I ever shed tears from reading a book.

Chris
 
Lines that provoked...

There are many short stories that rely on the "surprise ending" for effect, and meaning. "The Necklace" by deMaupausant and "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry are good examples and are frequently anthologized and taught in schools (or at least used to be taught). The most moving example of the technique I have ever encountered, however, is "The Star" by Arthur C. Clarke. In it the surprise, revealing and compelling ending is contained in the very last word of the story. I won't reveal the word here, but I recommend the story to anyone but especially to followers of this forum.
 
The murder scene of Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky. I was in the middle of a chemistry lesson, and I felt as if the hammer was cracking into my skull. What a disappointment to lose the concentration when the teacher called my name. How dare he to interrupt a reading that, in the long run, was much more important to me than anything he might teach me?

Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann, last couple of pages. I was crying like a baby at the end, although, if read isolated, it's unemotional, even cold. The kiss (who read it knows it's the kids, which is described with excruciating detail, is also very cheerful, I remember being delighted at reading it, with a big smile on my face.

The Myst, by Stephen King. The reading made such an impression on my imagination that later at night I dreamt of it, replaying the best parts, only it became a nightmare and soon I woke up, startled.

Oh, there must be so many others...
 
Luciana Nery said:
The murder scene of Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky.
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What about this part?

"He forgot to shut the door after him, and murdered two people for a theory. [...] consider this: he is a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, despises others, poses as injured innocence. No, that’s not the work of a Nikolay, my dear Rodion Romanovitch!”
All that had been said before had sounded so like a recantation that these words were too great a shock. Raskolnikov shuddered as though he had been stabbed.
“Then … who then … is the murderer?” he asked in a breathless voice, unable to restrain himself.
Porfiry Petrovitch sank back in his chair, as though he were amazed at the question.
“Who is the murderer?” he repeated, as though unable to believe his ears. “Why, you, Rodion Romanovitch! You are the murderer,” he added almost in a whisper, in a voice of genuine conviction.
 
Re: Re: Lines that have provoked a physical reaction...

Mr Manifesto said:


"It was chiefly in order to allow time for the preliminary work of translation that the final adoption of Newspeak had been fixed for so late a date as 2050."

Doesn't seem like that emotional a line to me. :D
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lol


That made me laugh quite a bit. Okay, the last line not counting the appendix.
 
That I can remember right now... The following dialogue between Pursewarden and Melissa in Lawrence Durrell's "Alexandria Quartet" (francophones excuse the misspellings, my books are seven years and nine time zones afar):

-Comme-vous vous defendez contre la solitude?
-Monsieur, je suis devenue la solitude-même.

It shocked me. A lot. Still does.
 
I always get a chill from the first paragraph of Poe's Berenice

MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon like the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch — as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon like the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? — from the covenant of peace, a simile of sorrow? But thus is it. And as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of today, or the agonies which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.
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Such depair.
 
Brian said:
A side note, in the short story one of the characters is black and the other is white. Ellison made it unclear which was which on purpose. I have no idea why.
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Yeah, that's another thing. Did anybody reading the story care, or even picture either of the main characters as any particular color? I didn't. It's almost as if Ellison felt he had to say, "This transends racial boundaries, so I'm cool. Wow."

Much more deftly handled were the UK/US ambiguities. The US shibboleths of the Vietnam war and the deco diner and grilled cheese sandwiches were there, but there was also the Council (instead of Town Hall) and official starting hours, which nobody in the US gives a wet slap about.
 
Other Ellison endings that get to Me.

The Deathbird.

Shattered like a glass goblin.

Repent Harlequin, Said the Ticktockman.
 
The idea said:
What about this part?

"He forgot to shut the door after him, and murdered two people for a theory. [...] consider this: he is a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, despises others, poses as injured innocence. No, that’s not the work of a Nikolay, my dear Rodion Romanovitch!”
All that had been said before had sounded so like a recantation that these words were too great a shock. Raskolnikov shuddered as though he had been stabbed.
“Then … who then … is the murderer?” he asked in a breathless voice, unable to restrain himself.
Porfiry Petrovitch sank back in his chair, as though he were amazed at the question.
“Who is the murderer?” he repeated, as though unable to believe his ears. “Why, you, Rodion Romanovitch! You are the murderer,” he added almost in a whisper, in a voice of genuine conviction.
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That's it, I have to reread that book... thanks, idea.

The Raven, by Poe. I read it for the first time alone, in the wee wee hours of the morning. I was breathless when I finished a silence reading of it.
 
I read a short story, I dont remember the name or author or the title of the story, so sorry to waste this post...

The story revolved around a life destroyed by alcohol, then gradually rebuilt. It was very well written, and very original for a story so common.
 
the opening paragraph of shirley jackson's The Haunting of Hill House...

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute relativity; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.


eeeek!
 
The first time I read Othello I was a classroom aide for my English teacher in High School, as he had nothing for me to do that week I read for the hour while he taught a 9th grade English class. On Friday I had reached the last few pages. I sat in the corner reading as Othello smothers Desdamona, all of the lies are revealed and tears are running down my face. The one line that pushed me right over was "A man who loved not wisely but to well". The whole class is staring at me by this time. I ended giving a brief synopsis of the story to the rather startled group. The teacher then turned to them and said "That is the power of language."


To this day I have neither watched any movie version or been able to bring myself to re-read it.



Boo
 
"This day when it had light mother called me retch. You retch she said. I saw in her eyes the anger. I wonder what it is a retch."

--Richard Matheson, "Born of Man and Woman"

Still gets me, 30 years after reading it the first time.
 
Frederick Engels at the funeral of Karl Marx.

"On the 14th of March, at a quarter to three in the afternoon, the greatest living thinker ceased to think."
 
demon said:
Frederick Engels at the funeral of Karl Marx.

"On the 14th of March, at a quarter to three in the afternoon, the greatest living thinker ceased to think."
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Yeah, that me giggle a little bit too.
 
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