Sylvie and Bruno byLewis Carroll

I am trying hard to stop reading bad books. I've gone through life feeling compelled to finsih what I start, which includes BAD BOOKS. It runs in the family too. My brother is just like me. Having said that, I'm going to include some passages from Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll. I have not finished the book and may not. You will have to check back and see. All I can say is if you were in doubt about Lewis Carroll being an opium addict, read this book.

"Oftens and oftens," said Bruno, "haven't oo told me 'There mustn't be so much noise, Bruno!' when I've told oo 'There must!' Why, there isn't no rules at all about 'there mustn't! But oo never believes me!" "As if any one could believe you, you wicked wicked boy!" said Sylvie. The words were severe enough, but I am of opinion that, when you are really anxious to impress a criminal with a sense of his guilt, you ought not to pronounce the sentence with your lips quite close to his cheek-since a kiss at the end of it, however accidental, weakens the effect terribly. p. 125

Yet is it wise to leave it unasked? You must not waste your life upon an 'if''! p.166

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

My fingers stroke the silky braids my mother so carefully arranged. My mother. I left her blue dress and shoes on the floor of my train car, never thinking about retrieving them, of trying to hold on to a piece of her, of home. Now I wish I had.  p. 63

The Good German by Joseph Kanon

His eyes moved over the map - the Alex and its impossible trial, Prenzlauer where she'd hidden the child, Anhalter Station, cadging a cigarette on the platform. You could trace a life on a map, like streets. p. 420

"Maybe things will be different for you now, in America."
     "Different?" Emil said, flushing, aware that the others were looking.
     But their eyes were on Professor Brandt, whose shoulders had started to shake, a raw, uncontrolled blubbering, catching everyone off-guard, an emotion no one expected. Before Emil could react, the old man reached out and clutched him, wrapping his arms around him, holding on, a death grip.  Jake wanted to look away but instead kept staring at them, dismayed. Maybe the only story that really mattered, the endless ties of life's cat's cradle, tangled like yarn.
     "Well, Papa," Emil said, leaning back.
     " You made me so happy." Professor Brandt said, "When you were a boy. So happy." p. 478