So what if I got tagged?

I'm the world's worst about being tagged. You know, the cute thing people do on their blogs where they answer questions about themselves and then "tag" other people to do the same thing. In general, I ignore being tagged. I was the kid on the playground that would stand perfectly still during the game and dare anyone to tag me, since they knew that doing so would end the game. I wouldn't chase, I wouldn't tag. I guess I'm anti-establishment that way. Or weird. So when my friend, Heidi, tagged me, my first thought was, "Oh Heidi, now we won't be friends any more because you didn't know how weird I was and how I delete cute forwards without reading them and ignore people when they tag me and this will make you re-examine our friendship and wonder if it's really worth it." So sad.
But I succombed. Her tag is about books. And this being a biblioblog, if you will humor me while I invent my own words, I figured I ought to do it once in my life. Once, people. Spread the word.

1. Pick up the nearest book (one of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the page to 123.
3. Find the 5th sentence.
4. Post the next 3 sentences.
5. Tag 5 people.

I'm actually going to do my own version of this, so again, the defiant aspect of my personality is appeased. Here are five books with their respective three sentences strung together randomly to make it more entertaining.

"Speak out and call things by their right names; don't sit there winking and blinking, and talking to me in hints, as if you warn't the very first that thought about the robbery. What d'ye mean?"
"Hush, Bill hush!" said the Jew, who had, in vain, attempted to stop this burst of indignation; "somebody will hear us, my dear -- somebody will hear us!"
Mostly it was an excuse to touch him. To prove to herself that he was hers, that she could touch him when she liked, and it was all right. Even with God, since they were legally married now.
Then gassy and bloaty and burpy and floaty
He lifts off the ground, while his folks hang on to the Human Balloon
And he scoops them right up off the grass, and as they sail away
They all cheer Hip-Hooray and pray he don't run out of gas.
"Now what is it you want to interview me about?" Beezus seemed unable to say anything, and Ramona could understand how it might be hard to ask someone wearing a polyester pant suit questions about building a log cabin. Someone had to say something so Ramona spoke up.
"She said I was the worst-behaved girl she ever saw and that my parents ought to be ashamed of the way they had brought me up. She says she won't stay and I'm sure I don't care. But father and mother do."
"Why didn't you tell them it was my fault?" demanded Anne.

Yes, why didn't you tell them? Sheesh, I hate when books are so vague. So there, I've now completed my tagging obligation. But you can't make me tag anybody else. I love you, Heidi, really I do.