Okay, I'll post the famous opening to a well-known novel, and let's see who can guess or identify it. Whether or not anyone answers correctly (or indeed participates at all), I'll give the answer in comments sometime tomorrow. And I highly recommend this title if you're looking for any summer reading.
I am a sick man…I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts. However, I don’t know a fig about my sickness, and am not sure what it is that hurts me. I am not being treated and never have been, though I respect medicine and doctors. What’s more, I am also superstitious in the extreme; well, at least enough to respect medicine. (I’m sufficiently educated not to be superstitious, but I am.) No, sir, I refuse to be treated out of wickedness. Now, you will certainly not be so good as to understand this. Well, sir, but I understand it.
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