The Bad Beginning (A Series of Unfortunate Events, #1)

by Lemony Snicket

If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.

Violet had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.

They could see, in the space of pale skin between his tattered trouser cuff and his black shoe, that Count Olaf had an image of an eye tattooed on his ankle, matching the eye on his front door. They wondered how many other eyes were in Count Olaf’s house, and whether, for the rest of their lives, they would always feel as though Count Olaf were watching them even when he wasn’t nearby.

“I hate it too,” Violet said, and Klaus looked at his older sister with relief. Sometimes, just saying that you hate something, and having someone agree with you, can make you feel better about a terrible situation.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny read their books and, in the back of their minds, hoped that soon their figurative escape would eventually turn into a literal one.

“It’s a very important role,” he continued, his mouth curling up into an unconvincing smile, “although you have no lines other than ‘I do,’ which you will say when Justice Strauss asks you if you will have me.” “Justice Strauss?” Violet said. “What does she have to do with it?” “She has agreed to play the part of the judge,” Count Olaf said.

Occasionally his eyes would close. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over.

For instance, if you are a bank robber—although I hope you aren’t—you might go to the bank a few days before you planned to rob it.

“If we had any kerosene,” Violet said, around noon, “I could make Molotov cocktails with these bottles.” “What are Molotov cocktails?” Klaus asked. “They’re small bombs made inside bottles,” Violet explained.

“Yes, yes,” Klaus said bitterly. He was tired of being threatened in the same way, over and over.

And a town not too far from where you live has a law that bars me from coming within five miles of its borders.

Had Violet signed the marriage contract with her right hand, the law would have made her a miserable contessa, but because she signed it with her left, she remained, to her relief, a miserable orphan.