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We called him Old Yeller.
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When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I
lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house
which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord,
Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only.
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Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
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In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
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Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins.
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Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen
having asked me to write down the whole particulars about
Treasure island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back
but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still
treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 - , and
go back to the time when my father kept the `Admiral Benbow'
inn, and the brown old seaman, with the sabre cut, first took up his
lodging under our roof.
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Elmer Gantry was drunk. He was eloquently drunk, lovingly and pugnaciously drunk.
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My father asked me to be the fourth corner at the Joy Luck Club.
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Call me Ishmael.
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I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country,
my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by
merchandise, and leaving off his trade lived afterward at York, from whence he had married
my mother, whose relations were named Robinson, a good family in that country, and from
whom I was called Robinson Kreutznear; but by the usual corruption of words in England we
are now called, nay, we call ourselves, and write our name, Crusoe, and so my companions
always called me.
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