4 5 Star Quotes

“On the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the market town of Meung, in which the author of Romance of the Rose was born, appeared to be in as perfect a state of revolution as if the Huguenots had just made a second La Rochelle of it.”
― Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers

“When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it’s never good news. Alex Rider was woken by the first chime. His eyes flickered open, but for a moment he stayed completely still in his bed, lying on his back with his head resting on the pillow.”
― Anthony Horowitz, Stormbreaker

“It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage.”
― Agatha Christie

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
― J. D. Salinger

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. 'It’s so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.”
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

“All good things must end,’ said Frances Price. She was a moneyed, striking woman of sixty-five years, easing her hands into black calfskin gloves on the steps of a brownstone in New York City’s Upper East Side.”
― Patrick deWitt, French Exit

“The servants called them malenchki, little ghosts, because they were the smallest and the youngest, and because they haunted the Duke’s house like giggling phantoms…”
― Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone

“You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.”
― Mary Shelly, Frankenstein

“Stephen pulled up the collar of his coat as he walked briskly along the platform. Overhead a dim fog clouded the station. Large engines hissed superbly, throwing off clouds of steam into the cold raw air. Everything was dirty and smoke‐grimed.”
― Agatha Christie, Hercule Poirot's Christmas