Lines I Wish I’d Said

“You had me at hello.” Dorothy says this to Jerry Maguire in the movie of the same name. Jerry has just finished telling her, “You complete me.” (What a great line to be told, btw!) And she knows. The words don’t matter. She knows. “Shut up, just shut up. You had me at ‘hello’”.

I love lines like that. Simple. Eloquent. To the point. Powerful.

I tend to like two kinds of lines. Those, like the one above, that are so simple I couldn’t ever actually think to say them myself. I tend to be wordy, to try to say things every possible way. Therefore, the simplicity of such a great line frequently awes me. Simple. Concise. Clear. Perfect.

The other kind of line I like is wordy and eloquent. It has a complicated rhythm to it, it’s depth woven intricately into the carefully constructed sentences.

Take the following line. Gemma Doyle, the protagonist in Libba Bray’s brilliant book, A Great and Terrible Beauty, says, “I don’t know yet what power feels like. But this is surely what it looks like, and I think I’m beginning to understand why those ancient woman had to hide in caves. Why our parents and teachers and suitors want us to behave properly and predictably. It’s not that they want to protect us; it’s that they fear us.”

Gemma was raised in India. She’s one of those girls that naturally thinks her own thoughts. Her world is colored differently than that of other girls raised in the late 1800’s British culture. She sees the repression of her culture for all it’s worth and aptly summarizes her feelings about it, hitting the issue at its heart.

I wish I’d said, or even thought, something like that. Growing up in small town Texas, even in the 1970’s and 80’s, was not altogether different from late 1800’s England or Middle America 1950’s. Appearances were everything. I wish I’d been as astute at 16 as Gemma. Perhaps being able to so succinctly identify the root of it all, like she did, would have provided some measure of peace.

When we decided to tackle this topic on the Sunday Six, I panicked a bit. All my books are still boxed. Boxes and boxes of books, awaiting my book shelf and permanent desk. I didn’t have the luxury of flipping through the pages of loved favorites to rediscover lines that stopped me by their sheer profoundness.

Of course, I did dig through the boxes a bit to come up with the remaining three lines, but those previous ones hit me square. I’ve loved them every time I’ve heard them.

These others… well, I’m not sure I wish I’d said them, but they were profound in the context of the books in which they were written, nonetheless.

From Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card –
Ender has defeated the buggers. Near the end of the book, he wants to board a starship and fly away and live forever. He tells his sister, Valentine, that he needs to leave because he’s almost happy there. She tells him to stay, and he says, “I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.” How poignant and honest. I think a lot of people feel that way. What a powerful line.

“Frankly, my dear. I don't give a damn." Yes, the line from Gone with the Wind is a bit cliché now, but I’ve said it, or my variation of it. I’ll probably say it again.

For my final one (it counts as both 5 and 6, since it’s in at least three of Karen Marie Moning’s highlander books), I’ve included the Druid binding vows that several of Moning’s characters use to marry one another. What beautiful words! “If aught must be lost, ‘twill be my honor for yours. If one must be forsaken, ‘twill be my soul for yours. Should death come anon, ‘twill be my life for yours. I am Given.” If I wasn’t already married, I might just use those vows.

I’m sure I’ll come up with a dozen other lines later this week, but for now, I need to get back to my MIP. I have a couple of contests I want to enter by Friday. I need to try out a few changes I’ve made. The contests seem as good a place as any.

Bye for now.

Macy