Voice Reel
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC) Irish (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Oh, Julia. When love received such countenance from prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its birth in tears The door was fastened. Julia, my soul, I hear sobbing It's death. What a brute! A mighty you So thus yet stay. I she is coming now How little resolution there is in woman How a few soft words Khun, turn them. No soon she's not coming. No, don't intended. I suppose this is not steadiness but obstinacy. Yet I deserve it. What, after so long An absence to quarrel with her tenderness. It was barbarous and unknowingly. I should be ashamed to see her. Now I'll wait till her just resentment is abated. And when I distress her so again, may I lose her forever and be linked instead to some antique Morago whose knowing passions and long hoarded spleen she'll make me curse my folly. Half the day and all the night, it was an era of superpowers and bottles over ideology. Battles fought with walls and barbed wire, uneasy alliances onerous into space. But for Children of the time, it was a time for national pride. At the elementary school level, Ivan Kovalev participated in the Communist Youth groups that were often on display and careered, such as this one honouring a dictator from an earlier era. What Ivan Kovalev didn't understand as a young child was that his father had become disillusioned with the very government that was handy night balloons and red stars to encourage Children to become good communists. It was a legacy I would impact the family for generations. I can hold out no longer order my trip to construct a borrow on the headland on the coast. After my pyre has cooled, it will loom on the horizon at her ruthlessness and be a reminder among my people so that incoming times cruise under seal will call it payable Sparrow as the steer ships across the wide and shrouded waters. Then the king, in his great heartedness on, clasped the collar of gold from his neck and give it to the young thin, telling him to use it on the war shirt on the gilded helmet. Well, you're the last of us, the only one left of the way among dings. Fitz swept us away, sent my whole brave, high born clan to their foetal doom, and I must follow them. That was the warriors. Last word he had no more to confide the furious heat of the pyre would a seal him his soul fled from his breast to its destined place among the steadfast ones. When you're old and grey and full of sleep and nodding by the fire text on this book and slowly read and dream of that soft look, your eyes had once one of their shadows deep. How many loved your moments of glad grace and loved your beauty with love, false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you. I love the sorrows of your changing face on bending Dine beside the glueing bars, murmur a little sadly, how Love fled and paced upon the mountains overhead and hit his face amid a crowd of stars.