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Greatest Sentence of All Time?

Cassiel said:
Come on now, if you're going for great sentences with him, go for the gold. Err, blue.

Oh, it's not that blue. It's not even the longest sentence in literature anymore. There are 13,955 words in the longest sentence in literature. It is in The Rotters' Club by Jonathan Coe.

Here's one of my all-time favorite passages from Ulysses (which is concerned, partly, with my all-time favorite beer):

However, as a matter of fact though, the preposterous surmise about him being in some description of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest character, was not the case at all. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty speedily in the wrong shop. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had been staring hard at a certain amount of number one Bass bottled by Messrs Bass and Co at Burton-on-Trent which happened to be situated amongst a lot of others right opposite to where he was and which was certainly calculated to attract anyone's remark on account of its scarlet appearance. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently transpired for reasons best known to himself, which put quite an altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment before's observations about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. Eventually, however, both their eyes met and as soon as it began to dawn on him that the other was endeavouring to help himself to the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself and so he accordingly took hold of the neck of the mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid sought after and made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it out with, also at the same time however, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to upset any of the beer that was in it about the place.
 

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This is one of my favorite passages...

"I am very old, O man of the waste countries; long and long ago I came to this planet with others of my world, from the green planet Yag, which circles for ever in the outer fringe of this universe. We swept through space on mighty wings that drove us through the cosmos quicker than light, because we had warred with the kings of Yag and were defeated and outcast. But we could never return, for on earth our wings withered from our shoulders."

~Robert E. Howard, "The Tower of the Elephant"
 

Tom Cashel said:
It's not even the longest sentence in literature anymore. There are 13,955 words in the longest sentence in literature. It is in The Rotters' Club by Jonathan Coe.
I don't think it was ever the longest sentence, just the one that ran on without punctuation the longest. Plenty of classical manuscripts could give it a run for its money in that regard. My favorite is probably the "I...AM. A." from Nausikaa. Oxen of the Sun is a good episode too though!
 

I am fascinated by "the Foucault pendulum" (or whatever it's English title is) by Eco. I want to read it. Once, I got to page hundred-and-something, but I didn't make it. It's no biggie. I'll try again. And perhaps next time is the right time for me.

The problems I had with this book - and the fascination - can be described easily. You know they always say you should grab your reader with the first sentence, the first paragraph of your book? Eco starts of with a mathematical explanation involving the number Pi, square roots, and a whole slew more that is bound to leave all but the most capable reader at least somewhat confused.

Unfortunately, I could not find the first paragraph online, or I'd have quoted to you the third and fourth sentence. I could quote it in German, but I would be at a loss to translate the mathematical terms, and you'd be at a loss to understand German. So instead, I will traverse further, and give you the seventh paragraph, a great, great paragraph about the Pendulum:
Umberto Eco said:
Idiot. Above her head was the only stable place in the cosmos, the only refuge from the damnation of the panta rei, and she guessed it was the Pendulum's business, not hers. A moment later the couple went off -- he, trained on some textbook that had blunted his capacity for wonder, she, inert and insensitive to the thrill of the infinite, both oblivious of the awesomeness of their encounter -- their first and last encounter -- with the One, the Ein-Sof, the Ineffable. How could you fail to kneel down before this altar of certitude?
 


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