Classical Narration Demo - Matthew R. Lawrence
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Matthew R. Lawrence. Classical Narration Demo A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Chapter one. Marley was dead. Marley was dead to begin with. There was no doubt, Whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and Scrooges name was good upon change for anything he chose to put his hand to old Marley was as dead as a doornail grind. I don't mean to say that I know of my own knowledge. What there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined myself to regard a coffin. Nail is the deadest piece of iron monger in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile and Mayan hallowed hand shall not disturb it or the country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat emphatically. But Marley was as dead as a doornail. A clean, well lighted place by Ernest Hemingway. It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow. The leaves of the tree made against the electric light in the daytime. The street was dusty but at night that do settled the dust, and the old man like to sit late because he was deaf. And now at night it was quiet, and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk. And while he was a good client, they knew that if he became too drunk, he would leave without paying. So they kept watch on him. Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. The Velociraptor sniffed it, jerked its head and looked right at Tim. Tim nearly gasped with fright. Tim's body was rigid, tense. He watched as a reptile. I moved, scanning the room. Another sniff. He's got me, Tim thought. Then the head jerked back toe look forward and the animal went on toward the fifth steak. Tim thought, Lex, please don't move. Please don't move. Whatever you do, please don't. The velociraptor sniffed the steak and moved on. It was now at the open door to the freezer. Tim could see the smoke billowing out, curling along the floor toward the animal's feet. One big clawed foot lifted and then came down again silently. The dinosaur hesitated too cold. Tim thought the sign of four excerpt by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. By the time I got out into the grounds, Sherlock Holmes was on the roof and I could see him like an enormous glow worm crawling very slowly along the ridge. I lost sight of him behind a stack of chimneys, but he presently reappeared and then vanished once more upon the opposite side. When I made my way around there, I found him seated at one of the corner eaves that you, Watson, he cried. Yes, this is the place. What is that black thing down there? A water barrel top on it? Yes, No sign of a ladder. No, confound the fellow. It's a most breakneck place. I ought to be able to come down where he could climb up. The water pipe feels pretty firm. Here goes any home. There was a scuffling of feet, and the lantern began to come steadily down the side of the wall. Then, with a light spring, he came onto the barrel, and from there to the earth, it was easy to follow him, he said, donning his stockings and boots. Tiles were loosened the whole way along, and in his hurry he dropped this. It confirms my diagnosis as you doctors express it. The object when she held up to me was a small pocket or poach woven out of colored grasses and with few tawdry beads strung around it in shape and size. It was not unlike a cigarette case. Inside were 1/2 dozen spines of dark wood, sharp at one end and rounded at the other like that which had struck Bartholomew their hellish things, he said, Look out that you don't ***** yourself. I'm delighted to have them for the chances are that they are all he has. There is less fear of you or me finding one in our skin. Before long, I would sooner face a martini bullet myself. Are you game for a six mile trudge? Watson. Certainly. I answered the Odyssey by Homer when she heard the sure proofs Ulysses now gave her. She fairly broke down. She flew, weeping to his side, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Do not be angry with me, Ulysse, she cried. You, who are the wisest of mankind? We have suffered both of us. Heaven has denied us the happiness of spending our youth and of our growing old together. Do not then be aggrieved or taking a miss that I did not embrace you. Thus a soon as I saw you, I have been shuttering all the time through fear that someone might come here and deceive me with a lying story. For there are many wicked people going about. Joe's daughter Helen would never have yielded herself to a man from a foreign country. She had known that the sons of AC in would come after her and bring her back. Heaven put it in her heart to do wrong. And she gave no thought to that sin, which has been the source of all our sorrows Now, however, that you have convinced me by showing me that you know all about our bed, which no other human being has ever seen. But you and I in a single maidservant, the daughter actor who has given to me by my father on my marriage and who keeps the doors to our room. Part of belief, though I have been, I can mistrust no longer. Then Ulysses, in his turn, melted and wept as he clasped his dear and faithful wife to his bosom as the sight of land is welcome to men who are swimming towards the shore when Neptune has wrecked their ship with the fury of his wind and waves. A few alone reached the land, and these covered with brine are thankful when they find themselves on firm ground and out of danger. Even so, was her husband welcome to her as she looked upon him and she could not tear her to fair arms from around his neck. Indeed, they would have gone on indulging their sorrow til rosy fingered mourn appeared had not manure of a determined otherwise and held night back in the far west. While she would not suffer dawn to leave Oceanics nor to yoke the two steeds lamps and fat on that bear her onward and break the day upon mankind King Lear by William Shakespeare Rumble thy bellyful, spitfire spout rain nor rain Wind, thunder Fire are my daughters my tax, not you. You elements with unkindness I never gave you Kingdom called you Children. You owe me no subscription. Then let fall your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave up. Poor, infirm, weak and despised old man. But yet I call you servile ministers that will, with no pernicious daughters join your high engendered battles against ahead so old and white as this Oh oh, Tous foul!