Audiobook-Clear, engaging, millenial (American accent)
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Vocal Characteristics
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EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
to the lighthouse. Written by Virginia woolf, narrated by Sarah johnson. Chapter One. The Window. Yes, of course. It's fine tomorrow, said mrs Ramsey. But you have to be up with the lark! She added to her son. These words conveyed an extraordinary joy as if it were settled. The expedition, and the wonder to which he had looked forward for years and years, it seemed, was after a night's darkness and a day sale within touch, since he belonged even at the age of six, to that great clan, which cannot keep this feeling separate from that. But must let future prospects with their joys and sorrows cloud what is actually at hand since two such people, even in earliest childhood, any turn in the wheel of sensation, has the power to crystallize and transfix the moment upon which its gloom or radiance rests. James Ramsey sitting on the floor, cutting out pictures from the illustrated catalog of the army and navy stores, and Dowd the picture of a refrigerator as his mother spoke with heavenly bliss. It was fringed with joy. The wheelbarrow, the lawnmower, the sound of poplar trees, leaves whitening before rain, rooks calling rooms, knocking dresses rustling. All these were so colored and distinguished in his mind that he had already his private code, his secret language, though he appeared the image of stark and uncompromising severity, with his high forehead and his fierce blue eyes impeccably candid and pure, frowning slightly at the sight of human frailty, so that his mother watching him guide his scissors neatly around the refrigerator. Imagine him all red and Sherman on the bench or directing a stern a momentous enterprise in some crisis of public affairs. But, said his father, stepping in front of the drawing room window. It won't be fine. Had there been an ex handy or any weapon that would have guessed a hole in his father's breast and killed him there and then James would have seized it. Such were the extremes of emotion that Mr Ramsey excited in his Children's breast by his mere presence, standing as now lean as a knife, narrow as the blade of one, grinning sarcastically, not only with the pleasure of disillusioning his son, and casting ridicule upon his wife, who was 10,000 times better in every way than he was. James thought, but also with some secret conceit at his own accuracy of judgment. What he said was true. It was always true. He was incapable of untruth, never tempered with the fact, never altered a disagreeable word to suit the pleasure or convenience of any mortal being, at least of all his own Children who sprung from his loins should be aware from childhood that life is difficult, facts, uncompromising, and the passage to that fabled land, where our brightest hopes extinguished our frail barks. Founder in darkness Here. Mr Ramsey would straighten his back and narrow his little blue eyes upon the horizon. One that needs above all courage. Truth, and the power to endure. But it may be fine. I expect it will be fine, said mrs Ramsey, making some little twist of the reddish brown stocking she was needing impatiently. If she finished it tonight. If they did go to the lighthouse. After all it was to be given to the lighthouse keeper for his little boy who was threatened with a tuberculosis hip, together with a pile of old magazines and some tobacco. Indeed, whatever she could find lying about, not really wanted, but only littering the room to give to those poor fellows who must be bored to death, sitting all day with nothing to do but polish the lamp, and trim the wick and rake about on their scrap of garden, something to amuse them, for how would you like to be shut up for a whole month at a time, and possibly more in stormy weather upon a rock the size of a tennis lawn? She would ask, and to have no letters or newspapers, and to see nobody if you were married not to see your wife not to know how your Children were, if they were ill, if they'd fallen down, broken their legs or arms, to see the same dreary waves breaking week after week, and then a dreadful storm coming, and the windows covered with spray and birds dashed against the lamp, and the whole place rocking, and not be able to put your nose out of the doors for fear of being swept into the sea. How would you like that? She asked, addressing herself particularly to her daughters. So, she added rather differently. one must take them whatever comforts one can.