Audiobook Demo (Eric Unterkofler)
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Suddenly he found himself speeding along an unfamiliar country highway. And as soon as he looked back over his shoulder, neither the toll booth nor his room, nor even the house was anywhere in sight. What he had started as make believe was now very riel. What a strange thing to have happened, he thought. Justus, you must be thinking right now this game is much more serious than I thought. For here I am writing on a road I've never seen going to a place I've never heard of, and all because of a toll booth, which came from nowhere. I'm certainly glad that it's a nice day for the trip, he concluded. Hopefully, for at the moment, this was the one thing he definitely knew. The sun sparkled, the sky was clear, and all the colors he saw seemed to be richer and brighter than you could ever remember. The flowers shone as if they had been cleaned and polished, and the tall trees that lined up the road shimmered in silvery green. Welcome to expectations set a carefully lettered sign on a small house on the side of the road. Then there was silence for its made his enquiries over there. Well, everyone here waited for the answer. Que steriods, where he was, did not even turn around, seemed completely indifferent, stared into space with its mixture of malice and caution. Shorter's story gave him a sense of the quasi diplomatic training that even lowly people at the castle such as Schwarzer could draw and so freely. Nor did they show any lack of diligence there. The central office had a night service and obviously answered very quickly, for Fritz was already on the line again. Yet it seemed to be a brief message, since shorts are immediately drew down the receiver in a rage. Just as I said, he shouted no trace of a land surveyor, only a liar and a common tramp and probably were still for a moment, K thought that everybody Schwarzer, the peasants, the landlord and land lady was about to jump on him. And he crawled all the way under the blanket to escape at least the first assault when he was slowly stretching his head back out the telephone ring again. Especially loud, it seemed to k. Last summer, in a season of intense heat, Jim Burden and I happened to be crossing Iowa on the same train. He and I were old friends. We grew up together in the same Nebraska town, and we had a great deal to say to each other. While the train flashed through, never ending miles of ripe wheat by country towns and bright flowered pastors and oak groves waltzing in the sun, we sat in the observation car where the woodwork was hot to the touch and red dust lay deep over everything. The dust and heat. The burning wind reminded us of many things. We were talking about what it is like to spend one's childhood and little towns like thes buried and wheat and corn under stimulating extremes of climate burning summers. When the world lies green and billowy beneath a brilliant sky, when one is fairly stifled in vegetation and the color and smell of strong weeds and heavy harvests blustery winters with little snow. When the whole country is stripped bare in gray's sheet iron, we agreed that no one who had not grown up in a little prairie town could know anything about it. It was a kind of freemasonry, we said every art and every inquiry and Likewise, every action and choice seems to aim at some good. And hence it has been beautifully said that the good is that at which all things aim but a certain differences apparent among ends since summer, ways of being at work while others are certain kinds of work produced over and above the being at work and in those cases in which there are ends of any kind. Beyond the actions the works produced are by nature better things than the activities. And since there are many actions and arts and kinds of knowledge, the ends also turn out to be many of medical knowledge. He and his health of shipbuilding skillet is a boat of strategic art. It is victory of household management. It is wealth, but in as many such pursuits are as under someone capacity in the way that bridal making and all the other skills involved with implements pertaining to horses come under horsemanship. Well, this in every action pertaining to war, come under strategic art and in the same way other pursuits are under other capacities. In all of them. The ends of all the master arts are more worthy of choice than are the ends of the pursuits that come under them since these latter are pursued for the sake of those arts.