Last Lines - Books

Doubt (John Patrick Shanley):

I have doubts. I have such doubts.

The Animal Farm (George Orwell):

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

1984 (George Orwell):

He Loved Big Brother.

On The Road (Jack Kerouac):

So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars’ll be out, and don’t you know that God is Pooh Bear? The evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what’s_going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.

A Farewell to Arms (Ernest Hemingway):

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

A Novel of Thank You (Gertrude Stein):

This is the difference between this and that.

The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway):

The old man was dreaming about the lions.

Prisoner’s Dilemma (Richard Powers):

Tell me how free I am.

Frankenstein (Mary Shelley):

He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.

Waiting for the Barbarians (J. M. Coetzee):

This is not the scene I dreamed of. Like much else nowadays I leave it feeling stupid, like a man who lost his way long ago but presses on along a road that may lead nowhere.