Tag Archives: words

(disclaimer: i have this terrible sense that i have posted something similar, if not identical, to this before. but for the life of me i cannot find said post. so i’ve decided to just go forward with this. i read the article mentioned this morning and it gave birth to the following ruminations. however, for those of you who think you might’ve read it before: you could very well be right.)

i read an article today in Slate Magazine about Stanley Fish’s five favorite sentences. Apparently Prof. Fish carries sentences with him “as others might carry a precious gem or a fine Swiss watch.” It only took me a second to realize I carry sentences, or phrases, in the same way. i stopped to try and consider what words come back to me again and again. Fish’s top 5 are what he considers the five BEST sentences in the English language. mine are far (FAR) less glorious. i’ve picked my 5 favorite sentences, regardless of why they are my favorite.

Without a doubt Fitzgerald’s ending of The Great Gatsby is my #1. This short paragraph swims in my head a lot, sometimes as a reminder and sometimes as a warning. I love almost all of Fitzgerald’s language, but this particular utterance is endlessly gripping.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further… And one fine morning– So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. (The Great Gatsby)

So that’s my number one. It’s harder work than I realized to come up with 5. I’ll add to this as I do think of the rest… stay tuned :)

update: 5/26/2011 i’ve thought of my #2. it’s from shakespeare’s hamlet. sometimes when i’m frustrated sad angsty overwhelmed, this is what comes to mind. i included the whole sentence, although the boldfaced bit is what i usually recall.

Long stay’d he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
And, with his head over his shoulder turn’d,
He seem’d to find his way without his eyes;
For out o’ doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me. (Hamlet, my emphasis)

update: 5/31/2011 my third sentence is a bit of a phantom… I can’t find the exact version I have in mind, but I know it’s SOMEONE’S translation of a poem about the miracle of Cana (Jesus turning water into wine). I think it’s Richard Cranshaw’s poem originally… Cranshaw wrote: “The conscious water saw its God (Creator) and blushed”; I’ve heard that “modest water” is the preferred translation, but again, it’s a bit enigmatic. In any case– I first heard the quote as follows, and that’s the rendition I find most stunning. (N.B. There seems to be a lot of confusion as to who first said this: Pope, Byron, Cranshaw, Dryden. I dunno. I’m just here for the words. Excuse any errors in citation.)

Water met its Maker and blushed.

update: 6/1/2011 how could i forget my #4–or at least not think of it so readily?!?! of course it is a line from naomi shihab nye’s poem “making a fist” (which, if you’ve been following this blog for a while,  you’ve totally heard me quote). i love so many lines in this poem, but my favorite is the one below… not even the whole sentence, but just the one line

I who did not die, who am still living… (“Making a Fist”)

(NB. i said i would pick my top 5, but i’d like to give a runner-up/honorable mention to another line from nye’s poem. this line is presented as a description of carsickness, and yet… how much more it really describes.)

My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin. (“Making a Fist”)

update: 6/2/2011 i’ve thought long and hard about what my #5 would be… and to be honest, there’s so many sentences that i carry with me, that i don’t know how i thought i could rank the top five only. but, things being as they are, this is what i finally came up with. i first read this sentence in high school, and i remember feeling as though i had found the most perfect piece of writing. even today, i cannot read it without getting a little choked up and feeling goosebumps along my arms.

He fell in October, 1918, on a day that was so quiet and still on the whole front, that the army report confined itself to the single sentence: All quiet on the Western Front. (All Quiet on the Western Front)