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Twelve Classic Novels As Summarized By Someone Who Has Not Read Them

things “It’s been very nice, out here at the edge. Wish you were here. Miss you very much; hope to see you soon. All my love.”
Postcards From The Edge

“A backpack, a sleeping bag, a canteen, a shaving kit, some food, a gun, and some ammunition. And an extra pair of boots, in case something happens to my boots. Well, that’s pretty much it, fellas. Everything you’ll need to carry for Vietnam.”
The Things They Carried

“What a nice day it had been, here in the jungle.”
The Jungle

“I think the yellow wallpaper looks best,” she said.
“How right you are.”
They were always happy afterwards that they had chosen the yellow wallpaper. It looked so much better than the green had.
The Yellow Wallpaper

“After today,” he said, “I hardly feel like a stranger here at all anymore.”
It was true. He was really more like a friend.
The Stranger

“Let’s go back to Brideshead,” she said.
“Oh, what a good idea.”
It really was a good idea. They had a wonderful time revisiting Brideshead.
Brideshead Revisited

“Should we go in without him?”
“No, let’s wait. He’d wait for us.”
“How would you like to pass the time? Screaming at one another and observing a distressing sadomasochistic relationship without intervening, or otherwise?”
“Let’s just play cards and talk about our weekends.”
“What a nice idea.”
“And then if he’s not here in thirty minutes, we’ll figure out our next move.”
“Sounds good.”
“Because it would be ridiculous, to wait here indefinitely.”
Waiting For Godot

“It’s awfully cold out,” she said, shivering.
“Not too cold for love?” he asked worriedly.
“No, not too cold for love,” she said, smiling.
Love In A Cold Climate

He looked so peaceful, sleeping in the cradle.
“I hate to move him,” she whispered.
“Why don’t we let him sleep in the cradle just for tonight,” he suggested, “and the baby can sleep with us.”
“What a nice idea,” she said.
It really was.
Cat’s Cradle

“Don’t feel so bad about it,” he said. “Things fall apart sometime.”
“Then you’re really not mad?” she sniffed.
“Hey,” he said, putting his arm around her, “we can always put them back together.”
Things Fall Apart

“Are these for me?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.
They were.
Flowers For Algernon

The jackal curled up gratefully by the fire. It had been a long day for such a little jackal, and now it was time to rest.
The Day Of The Jackal

[Grateful credit for The Jungle goes to Jess Zimmerman ]

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