It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him. (Published 1949)
I love the classics and plan to share
some "opening lines" over the coming months. Comment if you like, or
read for inspiration. Writing styles were different then, but were they really?