In the past, I have blogged the first sentences of popular books--how an author immediately sets the tone and introduces the plot or character. Lately, I started paying attention to final sentences--the last words that the author wants us to remember.
"Emma, you've got to marry me." Backfire: an FBI Thriller, by Catherine Coulter.
"For the moment no longer a soldier. Now only a son." The Forgotten, by David Baldacci.
"Demonstrating that no man is an island, even a fourteen-year-old with behavior problems." How It All Began, by Penelope Lively.
"He waited a minute for an answer, and then nobody said anything at all." Istanbul Passage, by Joseph Kanon.
"France was attacked by Germany on 10 May, 1940, and surrendered on 21 June." Mission to Paris, by Alan Furst.
"'Keep moving,' said the guard, and they did." The Newlyweds, by Nell Freudenberger.
"Hand in hand, the handsome young couple, the painter and the muse, walked out of the Museum of Modern Art into a soft autumn New York day." Sacre Bleu: a Comedy d’Art, by Christopher Moore.
"Charlotte gave a shrug and said, 'Oh, you know hens, they're so small-minded,' to which there was no sensible reply." The Uninvited Guests, by Sadie Jones.
"And I saw his body finally break apart near the mouth of the gulf, where the shadows of the date palms fell in long, dark curtains on his bones, now scattered, and swept them out to sea, toward a line of waves that break forever as he enters them." The Yellow Birds, by Kevin Powers.