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The very evening before my expected departure, as I was walking with
my friend, whose name was Tiberge, we saw the Arras diligence arrive,
and sauntered after it to the inn, at which these coaches stop. We had
no other motive than curiosity. Some worn men alighted, and
immediately retired into the inn. One remained behind: she was very
young, and stood by herself in the court, while a man of advanced age,
who appeared to have charge of her, was busy in getting her luggage
from the vehicle. She struck me as being so extremely beautiful, that
I, who had never before thought of the difference between the sexes, or
looked on woman with the slightest attention--I, whose conduct had been
hitherto the theme of universal admiration, felt myself, on the
instant, deprived of my reason and self-control. I had been always
excessively timid, and easily disconcerted; but now, instead of meeting
with any impediment from this weakness, I advanced without the
slightest reserve towards her, who had thus become, in a moment, the
mistress of my heart.
"Although younger than myself, she received my civilities without
embarrassment. I asked the cause of her journey to Amiens, and whether
she had any acquaintances in the town. She ingenuously told me that
she had been sent there by her parents, to commence her novitiate for
taking the veil. Love had so quickened my perception, even in the
short moment it had been enthroned, that I saw in this announcement a
death-blow to my hopes. I spoke to her in a way that made her at once
understand what was passing in my mind; for she had more experience
than myself. It was against her consent that she was consigned to a
convent, doubtless to repress that inclination for pleasure which had
already become too manifest, and which caused, in the sequel, all her
misfortunes and mine. I combated the cruel intention of her parents
with all the arguments that my new-born passion and schoolboy eloquence
could suggest. She affected neither austerity nor reserve. She told
me, after a moment's silence, that she foresaw too clearly, what her
unhappy fate must be; but that it was, apparently, the will of Heaven,
since there were no means left her to avert it. The sweetness of her
look, the air of sorrow with which she pronounced these words, or
rather perhaps the controlling destiny which led me on to ruin, allowed
me not an instant to weigh my answer. I assured her that if she would
place reliance on my honour, and on the tender interest with which she
had already inspired me, I would sacrifice my life to deliver her from
the tyranny of her parents, and to render her happy. I have since been
a thousand times astonished in reflecting upon it, to think how I could
have expressed myself with so much boldness and facility; but love
could never have become a divinity, if he had not often worked miracles.
"I made many other pressing and tender speeches; and my unknown fair
one was perfectly aware that mine was not the age for deceit. She
confessed to me that if I could see but a reasonable hope of being able
to effect her enfranchisement, she should deem herself indebted for my
kindness in more than life itself could pay. I repeated that I was
ready to attempt anything in her behalf; but, not having sufficient
experience at once to imagine any reasonable plan of serving her, I did
not go beyond this general assurance, from which indeed little good
could arise either to her or to myself. Her old guardian having by
this time joined us, my hopes would have been blighted, but that she
had tact enough to make amends for my stupidity. I was surprised, on
his approaching us, to hear her call me her cousin, and say, without
being in the slightest degree disconcerted, that as she had been so
fortunate as to fall in with me at Amiens, she would not go into the
convent until the next morning, in order to have the pleasure of
meeting me at supper. Innocent as I was, I at once comprehended the
meaning of this ruse; and proposed that she should lodge for the night
at the house of an innkeeper, who, after being many years my father
|
without
|
How many times does the word 'without' appear in the text?
| 2
|
IT 14
</b>
15 OVER BLACKNESS, we HEAR a BACH HARPSICHORD CONCERTO. And then a 15
WOMAN -- breathing hard -- straining, harder and harder -- until
finally we HEAR a NEWBORN BABY CRYING -- and we...
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. VULCAN FAMILY HOME - DUSK
</b>
The image is spectacular, aglow in DUSK LIGHT: a beautiful BABY,
just born, held in a WOMAN'S HANDS. It is being cleaned; warm
water runs down its face and body.
TIGHT ON the MIDWIFE (female, 60's) who holds and cleans the
baby as it CRIES. Another, younger, Midwife can be seen behind
her, assisting with the pitchers of water. As she cleans the
baby, she says to someone OFF-CAMERA:
<b> MIDWIFE
</b> He is strong.
The baby, now calm, gets SWADDLED. He is then gently held out
to the new MOTHER:
AMANDA GRAYSON, late 20's. An original beauty. She lies on a
divan, spent but eager to hold her first child. She tenderly
takes the infant into her arms, tears in her eyes, mesmerized.
She holds the wrapped baby tight and whispers sweetly:
<b> AMANDA
</b> ... hello.
CLOSE ON the YOUNGER MIDWIFE, standing at the rear of the room.
She raises an eyebrow as she quietly speaks:
<b> YOUNGER MIDWIFE
</b> The baby is healthy. Why does she cry?
<b> MIDWIFE
</b> (a beat; then)
She is human.
A distant, quiet BUZZ -- and the elder Midwife stands, looking
into the distance. And this is when we see, for the first time,
that the Midwife has POINTED EARS.
<b> MIDWIFE (CONT'D)
</b> Sarek arrives.
The Midwife moves away -- we PUSH IN on Amanda, who looks up for
a moment, clearly disquieted.
<b>
</b>
<b>15A OMIT
|
baby
|
How many times does the word 'baby' appear in the text?
| 6
|
"And to love him, sir. Do you think that no man can win a woman's
love, unless he is filled to the brim with poetry, and has a neck
like Lord Byron, and is handsome like your worship? You are very
handsome, Harry, and you, too, should go into the market and make the
best of yourself. Why should you not learn to love some nice girl
that has money to assist you?"
"Julia!"
"No, sir; I will not be called Julia. If you do, I will be insulted,
and leave you instantly. I may call you Harry, as being so much
younger,--though we were born in the same month,--and as a sort of
cousin. But I shall never do that after to-day."
"You have courage enough, then, to tell me that you have not ill-used
me?"
"Certainly I have. Why, what a fool you would have me be! Look at me,
and tell me whether I am fit to be the wife of such a one as you. By
the time you are entering the world, I shall be an old woman, and
shall have lived my life. Even if I were fit to be your mate when
we were living here together, am I fit, after what I have done and
seen during the last two years? Do you think it would really do
any good to any one if I were to jilt, as you call it, Lord Ongar,
and tell them all,--your cousin, Sir Hugh, and my sister, and your
father,--that I was going to keep myself up, and marry you when you
were ready for me?"
"You mean to say that the evil is done."
"No, indeed. At the present moment I owe six hundred pounds, and I
don't know where to turn for it, so that my husband may not be dunned
for my debts as soon as he has married me. What a wife I should have
been for you;--should I not?"
"I could pay the six hundred pounds for you with money that I have
earned myself,--though you do call me an usher;--and perhaps would
ask fewer questions about it than Lord Ongar will do with all his
thousands."
"Dear Harry, I beg your pardon about the usher. Of course, I know
that you are a fellow of your college, and that St. Cuthbert's, where
you teach the boys, is one of the grandest schools in England; and I
hope you'll be a bishop; nay,--I think you will, if you make up your
mind to try for it."
"I have given up all idea of going into the church."
"Then you'll be a judge. I know you'll be great and distinguished,
and that you'll do it all yourself. You are distinguished already. If
you could only know how infinitely I should prefer your lot to mine!
Oh, Harry, I envy you! I do envy you! You have got the ball at your
feet, and the world before you, and can win everything for yourself."
"But nothing is anything without your love."
"Psha! Love, indeed. What could I do for you but ruin you? You know
it as well as I do; but you are selfish enough to wish to continue a
romance which would be absolutely destructive to me, though for a
while it might afford a pleasant relaxation to your graver studies.
Harry, you can choose in the world. You have divinity, and law, and
literature, and art. And if debarred from love now by the exigencies
of labour, you will be as fit for love in ten years' time as you are
at present."
"But I do love now."
"Be a man, then, and keep it to yourself. Love is not to be our
master. You can choose, as I say; but I have had no choice,--no
choice but to be married well, or to go out like a snuff of a candle.
I don't like the snuff of a candle, and, therefore, I am going to be
married well."
"And that suffices?"
"It must suffice. And why should it not suffice? You are very
uncivil, cousin, and very unlike the rest of the world. Everybody
compliments me on my marriage. Lord Ongar
|
infinitely
|
How many times does the word 'infinitely' appear in the text?
| 0
|
from such press-gang captures, as
Lord Thurlow could have told, after a certain walk he took about
this time on Tower Hill, when he, the attorney-general of England,
was impressed, when the Admiralty had its own peculiar ways of
getting rid of tiresome besiegers and petitioners. Nor yet were
lonely inland dwellers more secure; many a rustic went to a statute
fair or 'mop,' and never came home to tell of his hiring; many a
stout young farmer vanished from his place by the hearth of his
father, and was no more heard of by mother or lover; so great was
the press for men to serve in the navy during the early years of the
war with France, and after every great naval victory of that war.
The servants of the Admiralty lay in wait for all merchantmen and
traders; there were many instances of vessels returning home after
long absence, and laden with rich cargo, being boarded within a
day's distance of land, and so many men pressed and carried off,
that the ship, with her cargo, became unmanageable from the loss of
her crew, drifted out again into the wild wide ocean, and was
sometimes found in the helpless guidance of one or two infirm or
ignorant sailors; sometimes such vessels were never heard of more.
The men thus pressed were taken from the near grasp of parents or
wives, and were often deprived of the hard earnings of years, which
remained in the hands of the masters of the merchantman in which
they had served, subject to all the chances of honesty or
dishonesty, life or death. Now all this tyranny (for I can use no
other word) is marvellous to us; we cannot imagine how it is that a
nation submitted to it for so long, even under any warlike
enthusiasm, any panic of invasion, any amount of loyal subservience
to the governing powers. When we read of the military being called
in to assist the civil power in backing up the press-gang, of
parties of soldiers patrolling the streets, and sentries with
screwed bayonets placed at every door while the press-gang entered
and searched each hole and corner of the dwelling; when we hear of
churches being surrounded during divine service by troops, while the
press-gang stood ready at the door to seize men as they came out
from attending public worship, and take these instances as merely
types of what was constantly going on in different forms, we do not
wonder at Lord Mayors, and other civic authorities in large towns,
complaining that a stop was put to business by the danger which the
tradesmen and their servants incurred in leaving their houses and
going into the streets, infested by press-gangs.
Whether it was that living in closer neighbourhood to the
metropolis--the centre of politics and news--inspired the
inhabitants of the southern counties with a strong feeling of that
kind of patriotism which consists in hating all other nations; or
whether it was that the chances of capture were so much greater at
all the southern ports that the merchant sailors became inured to
the danger; or whether it was that serving in the navy, to those
familiar with such towns as Portsmouth and Plymouth, had an
attraction to most men from the dash and brilliancy of the
adventurous employment--it is certain that the southerners took the
oppression of press-warrants more submissively than the wild
north-eastern people. For with them the chances of profit beyond
their wages in the whaling or Greenland trade extended to the lowest
description of sailor. He might rise by daring and saving to be a
ship-owner himself. Numbers around him had done so; and this very
fact made the distinction between class and class less apparent; and
the common ventures and dangers, the universal interest felt in one
pursuit, bound the inhabitants of that line of coast together with a
strong tie, the severance of which by any violent extraneous
measure, gave rise to passionate anger and thirst for vengeance. A
Yorkshireman once said to me, 'My county folk are all alike. Their
first thought is how to resist. Why! I myself, if I hear a man say
it is a fine day, catch myself trying to find out that it is no such
thing. It is so in thought; it is so in word; it is so in deed.'
So you may imagine the press-gang had
|
which
|
How many times does the word 'which' appear in the text?
| 4
|
who wished to give no occasion of offence to his mother's only
sister, was in the habit of taking his wife and sister down there every
spring for a short stay at one of the hotels, thus forming among
themselves a pleasant and independent little party, which was usually
joined by Colonel Fitzwilliam. This year Lady Catherine, having been
there for some weeks previously, had been collecting round her a circle
of acquaintances, some more and some less likely to be congenial to the
relatives whose visit was pending.
"Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy to his wife, as they stood together in Lady
Catherine's drawing-room at a large reception which she was giving in
their honour, two days after their arrival, "I think I see General
Tilney over there; and, unless my memory is failing me, surely this is
his daughter coming towards us, whom we made friends with last year."
"Why, so it is; what a delightful surprise!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Dear
Lady Portinscale, how glad I am to see you again! Do not say you have
forgotten me, or I shall find it hard to forgive you!"
"No, indeed, Mrs. Darcy, I was coming to introduce myself, in fear that
you might have forgotten me. How do you do, Mr. Darcy? Lady Catherine
told me that she was expecting the whole party from Pemberley this
week."
"Yes, we have come to put in our period of attendance, as you see," said
Elizabeth, "but I never dreamed of anything so pleasant as meeting you
again, after what you said last year."
"The truth is that my father has not been at all well, and as he felt
himself obliged to come here for a short time, he begged us to join him
for two or three weeks."
"Your husband is here this evening?"
"Yes, he is in the next room; I see him talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"And are your brother and his pretty wife in Bath this spring? I
remember her so well."
"No, they are at home; but we have a brother of hers staying with
us--James Morland. He has a curacy in a very unhealthy part of the
Thames Valley, and he has been extremely ill with a low fever, so we
have brought him here for a fortnight in the hope that it will do him
good."
"How very kind of you to take care of him! He is fortunate to have such
friends."
"Oh, no, it is a very small thing; and he is such an excellent young
fellow--sensible and agreeable, and so hard-working! My husband has the
highest opinion of him; and were he less amiable, it would be a pleasure
to be of service to anyone connected with Catherine."
"You oblige me to repeat that anyone who has you for his or her advocate
is indeed fortunate, Lady Portinscale," answered Elizabeth, smiling;
"but now that you know your character, pray perform the same kind office
for some of the people here. They are nearly all strangers to me, and
if my husband were not listening, I should say that I wonder how my aunt
manages to pick them up."
"Lady Portinscale will soon gauge your character, Elizabeth, if you make
such terribly outspoken comments," said Darcy, smiling. "You must not
mind her, Lady Portinscale; my aunt's presence has a demoralizing effect
upon my wife. It is a very sad thing, but I have often remarked it."
"Not her presence in the ordinary way," said Elizabeth; "but to-day we
have been through such a stormy scene together, that I may be excused
for feeling that my aunt and I must go diametrically opposite ways for
the rest of our lives."
"Really?" said Eleanor Portinscale, with the faintest suspicion of
laughter in her eyes. "Poor Lady Catherine! I recollect last year that
you and your sister-in-law were continually brewing some kind of
rebellious mischief against her."
"That is just the cause of the trouble now," responded Elizabeth. "My
sister-in-law became engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam last November; but I
saw that they were both so extremely unhappy in their engagement that I
was instrumental in breaking it off, and this happened only last week;
so that is why Robert Fitzwilliam is looking
|
wife
|
How many times does the word 'wife' appear in the text?
| 3
|
in its every arrangement and a sense of uncertainty in things struck
home to her. She seemed to see a woman, a woman like herself--only very,
very much cleverer--flitting about the room and making it. And then this
woman had vanished--nowhither. Leaving this gentleman--sadly left--in
the care of Mrs. Rabbit.
"And she is dead?" she said with a softness in her dark eyes and a fall
in her voice that was quite natural and very pretty.
"She died," said Mr. Brumley, "three years and a half ago." He
reflected. "Almost exactly."
He paused and she filled the pause with feeling.
He became suddenly very brave and brisk and businesslike. He led the way
back into the hall and made explanations. "It is not so much a hall as a
hall living-room. We use that end, except when we go out upon the
verandah beyond, as our dining-room. The door to the right is the
kitchen."
The lady's attention was caught again by the bright long eventful
pictures that had already pleased her. "They are copies of two of
Carpaccio's St. George series in Venice," he said. "We bought them
together there. But no doubt you've seen the originals. In a little old
place with a custodian and rather dark. One of those corners--so full of
that delightful out-of-the-wayishness which is so characteristic, I
think, of Venice. I don't know if you found that in Venice?"
"I've never been abroad," said the lady. "Never. I should love to go. I
suppose you and your wife went--ever so much."
He had a transitory wonder that so fine a lady should be untravelled,
but his eagerness to display his backgrounds prevented him thinking that
out at the time. "Two or three times," he said, "before our little boy
came to us. And always returning with something for this place. Look!"
he went on, stepped across an exquisite little brick court to a lawn of
soft emerald and turning back upon the house. "That Dellia Robbia
placque we lugged all the way back from Florence with us, and that stone
bird-bath is from Siena."
"How bright it is!" murmured the lady after a brief still appreciation.
"Delightfully bright. As though it would shine even if the sun didn't."
And she abandoned herself to the rapture of seeing a house and garden
that were for once better even than the agent's superlatives. And within
her grasp if she chose--within her grasp.
She made the garden melodious with soft appreciative sounds. She had a
small voice for her size but quite a charming one, a little live bird of
a voice, bright and sweet. It was a clear unruffled afternoon; even the
unseen wheel-barrow had very sensibly ceased to creak and seemed to be
somewhere listening....
Only one trivial matter marred their easy explorations;--his boots
remained unlaced. No propitious moment came when he could stoop and lace
them. He was not a dexterous man with eyelets, and stooping made him
grunt and his head swim. He hoped these trailing imperfections went
unmarked. He tried subtly to lead this charming lady about and at the
same time walk a little behind her. She on her part could not determine
whether he would be displeased or not if she noticed this slight
embarrassment and asked him to set it right. They were quite long
leather laces and they flew about with a sturdy negligence of anything
but their own offensive contentment, like a gross man who whistles a
vulgar tune as he goes round some ancient church; flick, flock, they
went, and flip, flap, enjoying themselves, and sometimes he trod on one
and halted in his steps, and sometimes for a moment she felt her foot
tether him. But man is the adaptable animal and presently they both
became more used to these inconveniences and more mechanical in their
efforts to avoid them. They treated those laces then exactly as nice
people would treat that gross man; a minimum of polite attention and all
the rest pointedly directed away from him....
The garden was full of things that people dream about doing in their
gardens and
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 7
|
morning, after which he started on
his way feeling quite contented.
Having walked for an hour or two through the pretty country that is
ruled by King Bud, Kiki Aru decided he could travel faster and see more
as a bird, so he transformed himself into a white dove and visited the
great city of Nole and saw the King's palace and gardens and many other
places of interest. Then he flew westward into the Kingdom of Ix, and
after a day in Queen Zixi's country went on westward into the Land of
Ev. Every place he visited he thought was much more pleasant than the
saucer-country of the Hyups, and he decided that when he reached the
finest country of all he would settle there and enjoy his future life
to the utmost.
In the land of Ev he resumed his own shape again, for the cities and
villages were close together and he could easily go on foot from one to
another of them.
Toward evening he came to a good Inn and asked the inn-keeper if he
could have food and lodging.
"You can if you have the money to pay," said the man, "otherwise you
must go elsewhere."
This surprised Kiki, for in the Land of Oz they do not use money at
all, everyone being allowed to take what he wishes without price. He
had no money, therefore, and so he turned away to seek hospitality
elsewhere. Looking through an open window into one of the rooms of the
Inn, as he passed along, he saw an old man counting on a table a big
heap of gold pieces, which Kiki thought to be money. One of these
would buy him supper and a bed, he reflected, so he transformed himself
into a magpie and, flying through the open window, caught up one of the
gold pieces in his beak and flew out again before the old man could
interfere. Indeed, the old man who was robbed was quite helpless, for
he dared not leave his pile of gold to chase the magpie, and before he
could place the gold in a sack in his pocket the robber bird was out of
sight and to seek it would be folly.
Kiki Aru flew to a group of trees and, dropping the gold piece to the
ground, resumed his proper shape, and then picked up the money and put
it in his pocket.
"You'll be sorry for this!" exclaimed a small voice just over his head.
Kiki looked up and saw that a sparrow, perched upon a branch, was
watching him.
"Sorry for what?" he demanded.
"Oh, I saw the whole thing," asserted the sparrow. "I saw you look in
the window at the gold, and then make yourself into a magpie and rob
the poor man, and then I saw you fly here and make the bird into your
former shape. That's magic, and magic is wicked and unlawful; and you
stole money, and that's a still greater crime. You'll be sorry, some
day."
"I don't care," replied Kiki Aru, scowling.
"Aren't you afraid to be wicked?" asked the sparrow.
"No, I didn't know I was being wicked," said Kiki, "but if I was, I'm
glad of it. I hate good people. I've always wanted to be wicked, but
I didn't know how."
"Haw, haw, haw!" laughed someone behind him, in a big voice; "that's
the proper spirit, my lad! I'm glad I've met you; shake hands."
The sparrow gave a frightened squeak and flew away.
3. Two Bad Ones
Kiki turned around and saw a queer old man standing near. He didn't
stand straight, for he was crooked. He had a fat body and thin legs
and arms. He had a big, round face with bushy, white whiskers that
came to a point below his waist, and white hair that came to a point on
top of his head. He wore dull-gray clothes that were tight fitting,
and his pockets were all bunched out as if stuffed full of something.
"I didn't know you were here," said Kiki.
"I didn't come until after you did," said the queer old man.
"Who
|
money
|
How many times does the word 'money' appear in the text?
| 5
|
the feeling that of all,
this went the nearest to create discord between the father and the
daughters. Sir Thomas was always in Southampton Buildings on Sundays.
Did Sir Thomas go to church? The Miss Underwoods did go to church
very regularly, and thought much of the propriety and necessity of
such Sunday exercises. They could remember that in their younger days
their father always had been there with them. They could remember,
indeed, that he, with something of sternness, would require from them
punctuality and exactness in this duty. Now and again,--perhaps four
times in the year,--he would go to the Rolls Chapel. So much they
could learn, But they believed that beyond that his Sundays were kept
holy by no attendance at divine service. And it may be said at once
that they believed aright.
Sir Thomas's chambers in Southampton Buildings, though they were dull
and dingy of aspect from the outside, and were reached by a staircase
which may be designated as lugubrious,--so much did its dark and
dismantled condition tend to melancholy,--were in themselves large
and commodious. His bedroom was small, but he had two spacious
sitting-rooms, one of which was fitted up as a library, and the
other as a dining-room. Over and beyond these there was a clerk's
room;--for Sir Thomas, though he had given up the greater part of
his business, had not given up his clerk; and here the old man, the
clerk, passed his entire time, from half-past eight in the morning
till ten at night, waiting upon his employer in various capacities
with a sedulous personal attention to which he had probably not
intended to devote himself when he first took upon himself the duties
of clerk to a practising Chancery barrister. But Joseph Stemm and Sir
Thomas were not unlike in character, and had grown old together with
too equal a step to admit of separation and of new alliance. Stemm
had but one friend in the world, and Sir Thomas was that friend. I
have already said that Sir Thomas had no friend;--but perhaps he felt
more of that true intimacy, which friendship produces, with Stemm
than with any other human being.
Sir Thomas was a tall thin man, who stooped considerably,--though not
from any effect of years, with a face which would perhaps have been
almost mean had it not been rescued from that evil condition by the
assurance of intelligence and strength which is always conveyed by
a certain class of ugliness. He had a nose something like the great
Lord Brougham's,--thin, long, and projecting at the point. He had
quick grey eyes, and a good forehead;--but the component parts of his
countenance were irregular and roughly put together. His chin was
long, as was also his upper lip;--so that it may be taken as a fact
that he was an ugly man. He was hale, however, and strong, and was
still so good a walker that he thought nothing of making his way down
to the villa on foot of an evening, after dining at his club.
It was his custom to dine at his club,--that highly respectable and
most comfortable club situated at the corner of Suffolk Street, Pall
Mall;--the senior of the two which are devoted to the well-being of
scions of our great Universities. There Sir Thomas dined, perhaps
four nights in the week, for ten months in the year. And it was said
of him in the club that he had never been known to dine in company
with another member of the club. His very manner as he sat at his
solitary meal,--always with a pint of port on the table,--was as
well known as the figure of the old king on horseback outside in
the street, and was as unlike the ordinary manner of men as is that
unlike the ordinary figures of kings. He had always a book in his
hand,--not a club book, nor a novel from Mudie's, nor a magazine, but
some ancient and hard-bound volume from his own library, which he had
brought in his pocket, and to which his undivided attention would be
given. The eating of his dinner, which always consisted of the joint
of the day and of nothing else, did not take him more than five
minutes;--but he would sip his port wine slowly, would have a cup of
|
thin
|
How many times does the word 'thin' appear in the text?
| 1
|
no
lack. The nymphs searched the forest for bell-udders, which grow upon
the goa-tree and when opened are found to be filled with sweet milk.
And the soft-eyed does willingly gave a share of their milk to support
the little stranger, while Shiegra, the lioness, often crept stealthily
into Necile's bower and purred softly as she lay beside the babe and
fed it.
So the little one flourished and grew big and sturdy day by day, while
Necile taught him to speak and to walk and to play.
His thoughts and words were sweet and gentle, for the nymphs knew no
evil and their hearts were pure and loving. He became the pet of the
forest, for Ak's decree had forbidden beast or reptile to molest him,
and he walked fearlessly wherever his will guided him.
Presently the news reached the other immortals that the nymphs of
Burzee had adopted a human infant, and that the act had been sanctioned
by the great Ak. Therefore many of them came to visit the little
stranger, looking upon him with much interest. First the Ryls, who are
first cousins to the wood-nymphs, although so differently formed. For
the Ryls are required to watch over the flowers and plants, as the
nymphs watch over the forest trees. They search the wide world for the
food required by the roots of the flowering plants, while the brilliant
colors possessed by the full-blown flowers are due to the dyes placed
in the soil by the Ryls, which are drawn through the little veins in
the roots and the body of the plants, as they reach maturity. The Ryls
are a busy people, for their flowers bloom and fade continually, but
they are merry and light-hearted and are very popular with the other
immortals.
Next came the Knooks, whose duty it is to watch over the beasts of the
world, both gentle and wild. The Knooks have a hard time of it, since
many of the beasts are ungovernable and rebel against restraint. But
they know how to manage them, after all, and you will find that certain
laws of the Knooks are obeyed by even the most ferocious animals.
Their anxieties make the Knooks look old and worn and crooked, and
their natures are a bit rough from associating with wild creatures
continually; yet they are most useful to humanity and to the world in
general, as their laws are the only laws the forest beasts recognize
except those of the Master Woodsman.
Then there were the Fairies, the guardians of mankind, who were much
interested in the adoption of Claus because their own laws forbade them
to become familiar with their human charges. There are instances on
record where the Fairies have shown themselves to human beings, and
have even conversed with them; but they are supposed to guard the lives
of mankind unseen and unknown, and if they favor some people more than
others it is because these have won such distinction fairly, as the
Fairies are very just and impartial. But the idea of adopting a child
of men had never occurred to them because it was in every way opposed
to their laws; so their curiosity was intense to behold the little
stranger adopted by Necile and her sister nymphs.
Claus looked upon the immortals who thronged around him with fearless
eyes and smiling lips. He rode laughingly upon the shoulders of the
merry Ryls; he mischievously pulled the gray beards of the low-browed
Knooks; he rested his curly head confidently upon the dainty bosom of
the Fairy Queen herself. And the Ryls loved the sound of his laughter;
the Knooks loved his courage; the Fairies loved his innocence.
The boy made friends of them all, and learned to know their laws
intimately. No forest flower was trampled beneath his feet, lest the
friendly Ryls should be grieved. He never interfered with the beasts
of the forest, lest his friends the Knooks should become angry. The
Fairies he loved dearly, but, knowing nothing of mankind, he could not
understand that he was the only one of his race admitted to friendly
intercourse with them.
Indeed, Claus came to consider that he alone, of all the forest people,
had no like
|
knooks
|
How many times does the word 'knooks' appear in the text?
| 6
|
a man came down the road and stopped under the
same shelter. He was a quiet, pale-faced man, very tall and thin, not
much more than thirty, I should think, poorly dressed, but with the look
and bearing of a gentleman. He asked me one or two questions about the
village and the people, which, of course, I answered, until at last we
found ourselves chatting away in the pleasantest and easiest fashion
about all sorts of things. The time passed so quickly that I forgot all
about the snow until he drew my attention to its having stopped for
the moment. Then, just as I was turning to go, what in the world do you
suppose that he did? He took a step towards me, looked in a sad pensive
way into my face, and said: `I wonder whether you could care for me if
I were without a penny.' Wasn't it strange? I was so frightened that I
whisked out of the shed, and was off down the road before he could add
another word. But really, Hector, you need not look so black, for when
I look back at it I can quite see from his tone and manner that he meant
no harm. He was thinking aloud, without the least intention of being
offensive. I am convinced that the poor fellow was mad."
"Hum! There was some method in his madness, it seems to me," remarked
her brother.
"There would have been some method in my kicking," said the lieutenant
savagely. "I never heard of a more outrageous thing in my life."
"Now, I said that you would be wild!" She laid her white hand upon the
sleeve of his rough frieze jacket. "It was nothing. I shall never see
the poor fellow again. He was evidently a stranger to this part of the
country. But that was my little adventure. Now let us have yours."
The young man crackled the bank-note between his fingers and thumb,
while he passed his other hand over his hair with the action of a man
who strives to collect himself.
"It is some ridiculous mistake," he said. "I must try and set it right.
Yet I don't know how to set about it either. I was going down to the
village from the Vicarage just after dusk when I found a fellow in a
trap who had got himself into broken water. One wheel had sunk into the
edge of the ditch which had been hidden by the snow, and the whole thing
was high and dry, with a list to starboard enough to slide him out of
his seat. I lent a hand, of course, and soon had the wheel in the road
again. It was quite dark, and I fancy that the fellow thought that I was
a bumpkin, for we did not exchange five words. As he drove off he shoved
this into my hand. It is the merest chance that I did not chuck it away,
for, feeling that it was a crumpled piece of paper, I imagined that it
must be a tradesman's advertisement or something of the kind. However,
as luck would have it, I put it in my pocket, and there I found it when
I looked for the dates of our cruise. Now you know as much of the matter
as I do."
Brother and sister stared at the black and white crinkled note with
astonishment upon their faces.
"Why, your unknown traveller must have been Monte Cristo, or Rothschild
at the least!" said Robert. "I am bound to say, Laura, that I think you
have lost your bet."
"Oh, I am quite content to lose it. I never heard of such a piece of
luck. What a perfectly delightful man this must be to know."
"But I can't take his money," said Hector Spurling, looking somewhat
ruefully at the note. "A little prize-money is all very well in its way,
but a Johnny must draw the line somewhere. Besides it must have been
a mistake. And yet he meant to give me something big, for he could not
mistake a note for a coin. I suppose I must advertise for the fellow."
"It seems a pity too," remarked Robert. "I must say that I don't quite
see it in the same light that you do."
"Indeed I think that you are very Quixotic, Hector," said Laura
McIntyre. "Why should you not accept it in the spirit in which it was
|
money
|
How many times does the word 'money' appear in the text?
| 0
|
dorians were not.
Eddore was--and is--huge, dense, and hot. Its atmosphere is not air,
as we of small, green Terra, know air, but is a noxious mixture of
gaseous substances known to mankind only in chemical laboratories.
Its hydrosphere, while it does contain some water, is a poisonous,
stinking, foully corrosive, slimy and sludgy liquid.
And the Eddorians were as different from any people we know as Eddore
is different from the planets indigenous to our space and time. They
were, to our senses, utterly monstrous; almost incomprehensible. They
were amorphous, amoeboid, sexless. Not androgynous or parthenogenetic,
but absolutely sexless; with a sexlessness unknown in any Earthly form
of life higher than the yeasts. Thus they were, to all intents and
purposes and except for death by violence, immortal; for each one,
after having lived for hundreds of thousands of Tellurian years and
having reached its capacity to live and to learn, simply divided into
two new individuals, each of which, in addition to possessing in full
its parent's mind and memories and knowledges, had also a brand-new
zest and a greatly increased capacity.
And, since life was, there had been competition. Competition for power.
Knowledge was worth while only insofar as it contributed to power.
Warfare began, and aged, and continued; the appallingly efficient
warfare possible only to such entities as those. Their minds, already
immensely powerful, grew stronger and stronger under the stresses of
internecine struggle.
But peace was not even thought of. Strife continued, at higher and even
higher levels of violence, until two facts became apparent. First, that
every Eddorian who could be killed by physical violence had already
died; that the survivors had developed such tremendous powers of mind,
such complete mastery of things physical as well as mental, that they
could not be slain by physical force. Second, that during the ages
through which they had been devoting their every effort to mutual
extermination, their sun had begun markedly to cool; that their planet
would very soon become so cold that it would be impossible for them
ever again to live their normal physical lives.
Thus there came about an armistice. The Eddorians worked together--not
without friction--in the development of mechanisms by the use of which
they moved their planet across light-years of space to a younger,
hotter sun. Then, Eddore once more at its hot and reeking norm, battle
was resumed. Mental battle, this time, that went on for more than a
hundred thousand Eddorian years; during the last ten thousand of which
not a single Eddorian died.
Realizing the futility of such unproductive endeavor, the relatively
few survivors made a peace of sorts. Since each had an utterly
insatiable lust for power, and since it had become clear that they
could neither conquer nor kill each other, they would combine forces
and conquer enough planets--enough galaxies--so that each Eddorian
could have as much power and authority as he could possibly handle.
What matter that there were not that many planets in their native
space? There were other spaces, an infinite number of them; some of
which, it was mathematically certain, would contain millions upon
millions of planets instead of only two or three. By mind and by
machine they surveyed the neighboring continua; they developed the
hyper-spatial tube and the inertialess drive; they drove their planet,
space-ship-wise, through space after space after space.
And thus, shortly after the Coalescence began, Eddore came into our
space-time; and here, because of the multitudes of planets already
existing and the untold millions more about to come into existence,
it stayed. Here was what they had wanted since their beginnings; here
were planets enough, here were fields enough for the exercise of power,
to sate even the insatiable. There was no longer any need for them to
fight each other; they could now cooperate whole-heartedly--as long as
each was getting more--and _more_ and MORE!
Enphilisor, a young Arisian, his mind roaming eagerly abroad as was its
wont, made first contact with the Eddorians in this space. Inoffensive,
naive
|
eddorians
|
How many times does the word 'eddorians' appear in the text?
| 2
|
BUL - DUSK
</b>
Glimpses of an ancient city. Almost motionless against
the tide of time.
Sea swelled along an endless wall. Billowing silk frozen
against the sky. Birds lighting on Byzantine columns.
FINAL IMAGE is of an imposing STRUCTURE beyond the trees.
<b>INT. PRISON FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE
</b>
Corridor of ancient stone and steel extends into infinite
darkness. Stale air hangs in the dim half-light like
atomized ether.
There is WHISPERING. And tangled VOICES.
DRIFT IN PAST prison cells the size of closets. Brief
flashes of carved faces, insanity -- COMING TO REST ON the --
<b>FINAL CELL
</b>
A gaunt PRISONER kneels on the granite, head bowed to a
wall hung tapestry of Christ. But he's not just praying.
He's digging. With his arm under the tapestry, he
scratches at the stone with a SPOON. After only a year,
the spoon finally breaks through.
<b>INT. NARROW CHANNEL
</b>
Prisoner claws his way between ancient walls, comes to a
dead end against a thick wooden door. He nudges a
shoulder against it, digs in and pushes. DOOR GROANS
open, sucking air into the pitch black CHAMBER.
<b>INT. PRISONER'S CELL
</b>
The tapestry covering the HOLE is pulled against the
wall, then billows outward like a sail.
<b>INT. CHAMBER - PRISONER
</b>
pulls himself inside, chokes in the heavy air. He scans
the musty room. Antique furniture. A few empty crates.
And the remains of several deteriorating skeletons.
<b> (CONTINUED)
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> 2.
</b>
<b>CONTINUED:
</b>
He looks to the far wall, sees a hint of light above
through the crumbling limestone. A way out. Too high to
reach, Prisoner pulls an old CHEST out of a cobwebbed
corner and slides it under the light.
He steps up onto the chest, grabs the edges of the hole
and starts to shove off when the top of the chest gives
way and his foot crunches through.
Prisoner reaches down to free his foot when he sees
something inside -- wrapped in a red cloth. He pulls it
out and as he unwraps it, he discovers the cloth is a
Nazi flag.
At the center is a crudely-shaped IRON RELIC. Eight inches
long. Stains on the edges. Could be the petrified tooth of
some prehistoric animal. Or maybe an ancient arrowhead.
As he holds it, feverish sweat starts to form on his face.
<b>MYSTERIOUS POV
</b>
From BEHIND. As if he's being watched by someone else.
Prisoner spins, looks back AT us. Nothing.
<b>PRISONER
</b>
starts toward the way out.
<b>INT. PRISONER CORRIDOR
</b>
The Guard's flashlight beam probes the cell -- one by one
-- falls on the tapestry. Christ billows out from the
wall, revealing the hole.
<b>INT. PRISON - VARIOUS SHOTS
</b>
ALARMS SOUND. Lights BLAST ON. Guards with weapons rush
through.
<b>INT. NARROW CHANNEL
</b>
Prisoner squeezes toward light, grips the relic tight.
<b>EXT
|
wall
|
How many times does the word 'wall' appear in the text?
| 4
|
he might have used them
well--he was always doubtful whether it was eight sevens or nine
eights that was sixty-three--(he knew no method for settling the
difficulty) and he thought the merit of a drawing consisted in the
care with which it was "lined in." "Lining in" bored him beyond
measure.
But the _indigestions_ of mind and body that were to play so large a
part in his subsequent career were still only beginning. His liver and
his gastric juice, his wonder and imagination kept up a fight against
the things that threatened to overwhelm soul and body together.
Outside the regions devastated by the school curriculum he was still
intensely curious. He had cheerful phases of enterprise, and about
thirteen he suddenly discovered reading and its joys. He began to read
stories voraciously, and books of travel, provided they were also
adventurous. He got these chiefly from the local institute, and he
also "took in," irregularly but thoroughly, one of those inspiring
weeklies that dull people used to call "penny dreadfuls," admirable
weeklies crammed with imagination that the cheap boys' "comics" of
to-day have replaced. At fourteen, when he emerged from the valley of
the shadow of education, there survived something, indeed it survived
still, obscured and thwarted, at five and thirty, that pointed--not
with a visible and prevailing finger like the finger of that beautiful
woman in the picture, but pointed nevertheless--to the idea that there
was interest and happiness in the world. Deep in the being of Mr.
Polly, deep in that darkness, like a creature which has been beaten
about the head and left for dead but still lives, crawled a persuasion
that over and above the things that are jolly and "bits of all right,"
there was beauty, there was delight, that somewhere--magically
inaccessible perhaps, but still somewhere, were pure and easy and
joyous states of body and mind.
He would sneak out on moonless winter nights and stare up at the
stars, and afterwards find it difficult to tell his father where he
had been.
He would read tales about hunters and explorers, and imagine himself
riding mustangs as fleet as the wind across the prairies of Western
America, or coming as a conquering and adored white man into the
swarming villages of Central Africa. He shot bears with a revolver--a
cigarette in the other hand--and made a necklace of their teeth and
claws for the chief's beautiful young daughter. Also he killed a lion
with a pointed stake, stabbing through the beast's heart as it stood
over him.
He thought it would be splendid to be a diver and go down into the
dark green mysteries of the sea.
He led stormers against well-nigh impregnable forts, and died on the
ramparts at the moment of victory. (His grave was watered by a
nation's tears.)
He rammed and torpedoed ships, one against ten.
He was beloved by queens in barbaric lands, and reconciled whole
nations to the Christian faith.
He was martyred, and took it very calmly and beautifully--but only
once or twice after the Revivalist week. It did not become a habit
with him.
He explored the Amazon, and found, newly exposed by the fall of a
great tree, a rock of gold.
Engaged in these pursuits he would neglect the work immediately in
hand, sitting somewhat slackly on the form and projecting himself in a
manner tempting to a schoolmaster with a cane.... And twice he had
books confiscated.
Recalled to the realities of life, he would rub himself or sigh deeply
as the occasion required, and resume his attempts to write as good as
copperplate. He hated writing; the ink always crept up his fingers and
the smell of ink offended him. And he was filled with unexpressed
doubts. _Why_ should writing slope down from right to left? _Why_
should downstrokes be thick and upstrokes thin? _Why_ should the
handle of one's pen point over one's right shoulder?
His copy books towards the end foreshadowed his destiny and took the
form of commercial documents. "_Dear Sir_," they ran, "_Referring to
your esteemed order of the 26th ult., we beg to inform you_," and so
on.
The compression of Mr. Polly's mind and soul
|
still
|
How many times does the word 'still' appear in the text?
| 4
|
. Only his eyes appeared to still
hold the strength that had once bested every man on the planet to
win the annual games. Brion turned away from their burning stare,
sorry now he had insulted the man without good reason. He was too
sick, though, to bother about apologizing.
Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again and felt the
impression of things so important that he himself, his insults, even
the Twenties were of no more interest than dust motes in the air. It
was only a fantasy of a sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to shake
the feeling off. The two men stared at each other, sharing a common
emotion.
The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he wheeled about,
moving as only an athlete of Anvhar can move. Dr. Caulry was halfway
through the door, off balance. Two men in uniform came close behind
him. Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and the mountainous
mass of his flesh sending them back in a tangle of arms and legs. He
slammed the door and locked it in their faces.
"I have to talk to you," he said, turning back to Brion.
"Privately," he added, bending over and ripping out the communicator
with a sweep of one hand.
"Get out," Brion told him. "If I were able--"
"Well, you're not, so you're just going to have to lie there and
listen. I imagine we have about five minutes before they decide to
break the door down, and I don't want to waste any more of that.
Will you come with me offworld? There's a job that must be done;
it's my job, but I'm going to need help. You're the only one who can
give me that help.
"Now refuse," he added as Brion started to answer.
"Of course I refuse," Brion said, feeling a little foolish and
slightly angry, as if the other man had put the words into his
mouth. "Anvhar is my planet--why should I leave? My life is here and
so is my work. I also might add that I have just won the Twenties.
I have a responsibility to remain."
"Nonsense. I'm a Winner, and I left. What you really mean is you
would like to enjoy a little of the ego-inflation you have worked so
hard to get. Off Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is--much
less respects one. You will have to face a big universe out there,
and I don't blame you for being a little frightened."
Someone was hammering loudly on the door.
"I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said hoarsely. "And
I can't bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you to
insult a man too ill to defend himself."
"I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy in
his voice. "But there are more desperate issues involved than your
hurt feelings. We don't have much time now, so I want to impress you
with an idea."
"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with you? That's
expecting a lot."
"No, this idea won't convince you--but thinking about it will.
If you really _consider_ it you will find a lot of your illusions
shattered. Like everyone else on Anvhar, you're a scientific
humanist, with your faith firmly planted in the Twenties. You accept
both of these noble institutions without an instant's thought. All
of you haven't a single thought for the past, for the untold
billions who led the bad life as mankind slowly built up the good
life for you to lead. Do you ever think of all the people who
suffered and died in misery and superstition while civilization
was clicking forward one more slow notch?"
"Of course I don't think about them," Brion retorted. "Why should I?
I can't change the past."
"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You owe something
to the suffering ancestors who got you where you are today. If
Scientific Humanism means anything more than just words to you,
you must possess a sense of responsibility. Don't you want to try
|
hammering
|
How many times does the word 'hammering' appear in the text?
| 0
|
- NIGHT
</b>
<b>SUPERIMPOSE OVER ACTION... "NOVEMBER 12, 1975 - PHILADELPHIA"
</b>
... The club itself resembles a large unemptied trash-can.
The boxing ring is extra small to insure constant battle.
The lights overhead have barely enough wattage to see who is
fighting.
In the ring are two heavyweights, one white the other black.
The white fighter is ROCKY BALBOA. He is thirty years old.
His face is scarred and thick around the nose... His black
hair shines and hangs in his eyes. Rocky fights in a
plodding, machine-like style. The BLACK FIGHTER dances and
bangs combinations into Rocky's face with great accuracy.
But the punches do not even cause Rocky to blink... He grins
at his opponent and keeps grinding ahead.
The people at ringside sit on folding chairs and clamor for
blood... They lean out of their seats and heckle the fighters.
In the thick smoke they resemble spectres. Everyone is
hustling bets... The action is even heavier in the balcony.
A housewife yells for somebody to cover a two dollar bet.
The BELL RINGS and the fighters return to their corner...
Somebody heaves a beer can into the ring.
The Black Fighter spits something red in a bucket and sneers
across the ring at Rocky.
<b> BLACK FIGHTER
</b> (to cornerman)
... I'm gonna bust his head
wide open!
In Rocky's corner he is being assisted by a shriveled,
balding CORNERMAN, who is an employee of the club... He
works on Rocky without any enthusiasm.
<b> CORNERMAN
</b> (lackluster)
... Ya waltzin' -- Give the
suckers some action.
<b> ROCKY
</b> Hey --
<b> CORNERMAN
</b> (overriding)
Ya movin' like a bum -- Want
some advice --
<b> ROCKY
</b> ... Just gimme the water.
<b>
</b>
<b> 2.
</b>
A FIGHT FAN rushes up to Rocky... He is sixty-five, with
yellow teeth and wearing sunglasses.
<b> FAN
</b> Should I bet the fight don't
go the distance -- Ya feel
strong?
<b> ROCKY
</b> Absolutely.
<b> CORNERMAN
</b> ... Ya want some good advice?
<b> ROCKY
</b> ... I just want the mouthpiece.
The BELL RINGS... Rocky makes the sign of the cross. The
fighters engage in battle. The other fighter grabs Rocky in
a clinch and purposely butts him... The butt opens a bleeding
cut on the corner of Rocky's eye.
Rocky becomes furious over the foul and drives a flurry into
the man's body... Rocky slams the man on the jaw and the
fighter is out for the night. The fans throw rubbish into
the ring. Rocky ignores it.
The fans loudly go about collecting bets. The referee does
not bother to even count the fighter out and drags him under
the ropes where he is placed on a stretcher. Two new
fighters enter the ring. Rocky slips on a tattered robe.
Embroidered clumsily on the back is, "The Italian Stallion."
<b> ANNOUNCER
</b> Winner, Rocky Balboa -- Next a
six rounder between local
lightweights.
Without pomp Rocky climbs out of the ring and bums a
cigarette from a spectator... The fighter on the stretcher
passes behind him. He watches for a moment and continues up
the aisle... Before he even reaches the rear of the club the
BELL R
|
fighter
|
How many times does the word 'fighter' appear in the text?
| 7
|
TITLE SEQUENCE OVER MUSIC
</b> A series of tight CLOSE-UP shots of dancers moving in high
energy fast paced sexy choreography. Very provocative. Legs.
Arms. Butts. Boas. Sequins. Costumes. High heels. A
kaleidoscope of images and colors.
<b> END TITLES ON A BLACK SCREEN
</b> FADE IN sounds of PEOPLE TALKING -- GLASSES CLINKING -- all
the BACKGROUND SOUNDS of a BUSY, HIP NIGHTCLUB. SUDDENLY.. .a
loud DRUM ROLL.
CAMERA is low, moving through BACKSTAGE, passing CURTAINS and
the WINGS, flying out onto a shiny black STAGE awash in
light. PUSH IN on FOOTLIGHTS which are now blinding us,
blasting into camera as they form the word...
<b> BURLESQUE
</b> DRUM ROLL ends with a CYMBAL CRASH. The SCREEN goes BLACK.
Then we hear an opening MUSIC "INTRO", a bawdy QUARTET.
EXTREME CLOSE UP: RED LUSCIOUS LIPS... speaking directly into
CAMERA in a smoky, sultry voice.
<b> TESS
</b> Once upon a time ...a long, looong
time ago... there was a good little
girl...and they called her...
REVEAL ...TESS. A stunner with impossibly long lashes,
theatrical make-up and a sequined, skin-tight band-aid of a
dress. She works the tight stage of the club, toying with
the AUDIENCE.
<b> TESS (CONT'D)
</b> Burlesque.
MUSIC BLARES from a HOT YOUNG BUMPER BAND -- sax, drums, bass
-- wearing bowler hats, suspenders and lots of ink. The
crowd HOOTS. Lame streamers EXPLODE from the stage.
<b> TESS (CONT'D)
</b> Some say she up and died-of
neglect. Abandonment.
<b> (WHISPER)
</b> .old age.
The club's red booths are about half-full with a hip crowd.
Walls cluttered with photos. Celebrities tucked in shadows.
|
over
|
How many times does the word 'over' appear in the text?
| 0
|
154
A tear dropped 165
Tear in her eye, the sick man kissed it off in its bud, 176
smiling through the dimness of his own
Hand wet by tear just fallen 185
Tears flowing without control 187
Cheek wiped (at the end of the last chapter) 189
AUTHORâS INTRODUCTION
MY dog had made a point on a piece of fallow-ground, and led the curate
and me two or three hundred yards over that and some stubble adjoining,
in a breathless state of expectation, on a burning first of September.
It was a false point, and our labour was vain: yet, to do Rover justice
(for heâs an excellent dog, though I have lost his pedigree), the fault
was none of his, the birds were gone: the curate showed me the spot where
they had lain basking, at the root of an old hedge.
I stopped and cried Hem! The curate is fatter than I; he wiped the sweat
from his brow.
There is no state where one is apter to pause and look round one, than
after such a disappointment. It is even so in life. When we have been
hurrying on, impelled by some warm wish or other, looking neither to the
right hand nor to the leftâwe find of a sudden that all our gay hopes are
flown; and the only slender consolation that some friend can give us, is
to point where they were once to be found. And lo! if we are not of that
combustible race, who will rather beat their heads in spite, than wipe
their brows with the curate, we look round and say, with the nauseated
listlessness of the king of Israel, âAll is vanity and vexation of
spirit.â
I looked round with some such grave apophthegm in my mind when I
discovered, for the first time, a venerable pile, to which the enclosure
belonged. An air of melancholy hung about it. There was a languid
stillness in the day, and a single crow, that perched on an old tree by
the side of the gate, seemed to delight in the echo of its own croaking.
I leaned on my gun and looked; but I had not breath enough to ask the
curate a question. I observed carving on the bark of some of the trees:
âtwas indeed the only mark of human art about the place, except that some
branches appeared to have been lopped, to give a view of the cascade,
which was formed by a little rill at some distance.
Just at that instant I saw pass between the trees a young lady with a
book in her hand. I stood upon a stone to observe her; but the curate
sat him down on the grass, and leaning his back where I stood, told me,
âThat was the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman of the name of WALTON,
whom he had seen walking there more than once.
âSome time ago,â he said, âone HARLEY lived there, a whimsical sort of
man I am told, but I was not then in the cure; though, if I had a turn
for those things, I might know a good deal of his history, for the
greatest part of it is still in my possession.â
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state
|
How many times does the word 'state' appear in the text?
| 1
|
saddle in the grass,
with his dying voice, still cheering his men in the fray. This was
Saddle-Meadows, a name likewise extended to the mansion and the
village. Far beyond these plains, a day's walk for Pierre, rose the
storied heights, where in the Revolutionary War his grandfather had for
several months defended a rude but all-important stockaded fort, against
the repeated combined assaults of Indians, Tories, and Regulars. From
before that fort, the gentlemanly, but murderous half-breed, Brandt, had
fled, but had survived to dine with General Glendinning, in the amicable
times which followed that vindictive war. All the associations of
Saddle-Meadows were full of pride to Pierre. The Glendinning deeds by
which their estate had so long been held, bore the cyphers of three
Indian kings, the aboriginal and only conveyancers of those noble woods
and plains. Thus loftily, in the days of his circumscribed youth, did
Pierre glance along the background of his race; little recking of that
maturer and larger interior development, which should forever deprive
these things of their full power of pride in his soul.
But the breeding of Pierre would have been unwisely contracted, had his
youth been unintermittingly passed in these rural scenes. At a very
early period he had begun to accompany his father and mother--and
afterwards his mother alone--in their annual visits to the city; where
naturally mingling in a large and polished society, Pierre had
insensibly formed himself in the airier graces of life, without
enfeebling the vigor derived from a martial race, and fostered in the
country's clarion air.
Nor while thus liberally developed in person and manners, was Pierre
deficient in a still better and finer culture. Not in vain had he spent
long summer afternoons in the deep recesses of his father's fastidiously
picked and decorous library; where the Spenserian nymphs had early led
him into many a maze of all-bewildering beauty. Thus, with a graceful
glow on his limbs, and soft, imaginative flames in his heart, did this
Pierre glide toward maturity, thoughtless of that period of remorseless
insight, when all these delicate warmths should seem frigid to him, and
he should madly demand more ardent fires.
Nor had that pride and love which had so bountifully provided for the
youthful nurture of Pierre, neglected his culture in the deepest element
of all. It had been a maxim with the father of Pierre, that all
gentlemanhood was vain; all claims to it preposterous and absurd, unless
the primeval gentleness and golden humanities of religion had been so
thoroughly wrought into the complete texture of the character, that he
who pronounced himself gentleman, could also rightfully assume the meek,
but kingly style of Christian. At the age of sixteen, Pierre partook
with his mother of the Holy Sacraments.
It were needless, and more difficult, perhaps, to trace out precisely
the absolute motives which prompted these youthful vows. Enough, that as
to Pierre had descended the numerous other noble qualities of his
ancestors; and as he now stood heir to their forests and farms; so by
the same insensible sliding process, he seemed to have inherited their
docile homage to a venerable Faith, which the first Glendinning had
brought over sea, from beneath the shadow of an English minister. Thus
in Pierre was the complete polished steel of the gentleman, girded with
Religion's silken sash; and his great-grandfather's soldierly fate had
taught him that the generous sash should, in the last bitter trial,
furnish its wearer with Glory's shroud; so that what through life had
been worn for Grace's sake, in death might safely hold the man. But
while thus all alive to the beauty and poesy of his father's faith,
Pierre little foresaw that this world hath a secret deeper than beauty,
and Life some burdens heavier than death.
So perfect to Pierre had long seemed the illuminated scroll of his life
thus far, that only one hiatus was discoverable by him in that
sweetly-writ manuscript. A sister had been omitted from the text. He
mourned that so delicious a feeling as fraternal love had been denied
him. Nor could the fictitious title, which he so often
|
thus
|
How many times does the word 'thus' appear in the text?
| 5
|
FADE IN. BEGIN TITLE SEQUENCE.
</b>
<b> EXT. ST CLOUD'S - TRAIN STATION - DAWN
</b>
An establishing shot of the rundown train station on an
overcast morning. There's snow on the station platform. A
train arrives and departs.
<b> LARCH (V.O.)
</b> In other parts of the world, young
men of promise leave home to make
their fortunes, battle evil, or solve
the problems of the world.
Behind the station, at the top of the hill, lies the St.
Cloud's orphanage.
<b> LARCH (V.O.)
</b> I was myself such a young man, when
I came to save the orphanage in St.
Cloud's... many years ago.
<b> EXT. ST. CLOUD'S - ORPHANAGE - EARLY MORNING
</b>
A man and woman (COUPLE #1) make their way toward the main
entrance of the large brick building.
<b> LARCH (V.O.)
</b> Here in St. Cloud's, I have come to
understand that promises are rarely
kept, that the battle isn't so much
against evil as ignorance, and that
being successful can't hold a candle
to being of *use*.
The couple enters the orphanage, where we hear the sound of
babies.
<b> LARCH (V.O.)
</b>
|
world
|
How many times does the word 'world' appear in the text?
| 1
|
all CLOSE and teasing.
-- A man's FEET, in shabby work shoes, stalking
through a junk bin in a dark, fire-lit, ash-
dusted place. A huge BOILER ROOM is what it
is, although we only glimpse it piecemeal.
Then we SEE a MAN'S HAND, dirty and nail-bitten,
reach INTO FRAME and pick up a piece of METAL.
-- ANOTHER ANGLE as the HAND grabs a grimey
WORKGLOVE and slashes at it with a straight
razor, until its fingertips are off.
-- CLOSE ON SAME HANDS dumping four fishing knives
out of a filthy bag. Their blades are thin,
curved, gleaming sharp.
-- MORE ANGLES, EVEN CLOSER. We can HEAR the MAN's
wheezing BREATHING, but we still haven't seen
his face. We never will. We just SEE more metal
being assembled with crude tools, into some sort
of linkage -- a splayed, spidery sort of apparatus,
against a background light of FIRE, and a deep
rushing of STEAM and HEAVY, DARK ENERGY.
-- And then we see this linkage attached to the glove.
-- Then the BLADES attached to all of it.
-- Then the MAN'S HAND slips into this glove-like
apparatus, filling it out and transforming
it into an awesome, deadly claw-hand with
four razor/talons gleaming at its blackened
fingertips. Suddenly the HAND arches and STRIKES
FORWARD, SLASHING THROUGH a DARK CANVAS, tearing
it to shreds.
1. EXT. LOS ANGELES. NIGHT. (2nd Unit) 1.
A PULSATION OF LIGHT AND SHADOW. MUSIC DROPS AWAY to a hushed
RUSHING OF WIND and DISTANT SIRENS. CAMERA RACKS INTO FOCUS on a
HIGH PANORAMA of the San Fernando Valley, its night sky lit from
within by a strange GREENISH LIGHT. TITLES BEGIN.
CAMERA TILTS DOWN and ZO
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with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 2
|
Story by:
<b> ALAN DEAN FOSTER & GENE RODDENBERRY
</b>
<b>
</b><b> SHOOTING SCRIPT
</b>
July 19, 1978
<b>
</b>
<b> FADE IN :
</b>
<b> 1 EXT SPACE (S) 1
</b>
An ever expanding infinity of light and color as CAMERA
<b>
</b> TRAVELS THROUGH deep space, MOVING DIRECTLY for one
pinpoint of light: a STAR GROWING RAPIDLY as we SWEEP
TOWARD IT, a normal white star SUDDENLY CHANGING,
brightening, flaring unbelievable intensity: supernova.
The CAMERA HOLDS just a moment, then MOVES on, SEARCH-
ING through space, the jeweled beauty of other star
systems, sparkling nebulae, swirling hydrogen clouds.
STILL MOVING, then CAMERA FINDS:
<b> 2 EXT. AREA OF LUMINESCENCE (S) 2
</b>
In the far distance, slowly growing in size as CAMERA
APPROACHES: it resembles, vaguely at this distance, an
Aurora Borealis: flaring colors from the fringes,
beautiful yet ominous. It is so large, this Cloud, it
can envelope an entire solar system. CAMERA CONTINUES
APPROACHING the Cloud, and then suddenly, crossing
our POV, a:
<b>
</b><b> 3 KLINGON HEAVY CRUISER (S) 3
</b>
In a graceful, turning arc toward the mysterious
LUMINESCENCE. CAMERA FOLLOWS this Klingon, then FINDS
a second Klingon cruiser, also turning toward the Cloud,
which continues to grow in size as the Klingons
approach at warp speed, CAMERA CLOSING on the lead
ship, until the vessel's detail can be clearly MADE
OUT: lights, weaponry, power systems, identification
emblazoned on the nacelles and saucer in Klingon
language (and symbols).
<b> 4 INT. KLINGON CRUISER BRIDGE (O)
|
star
|
How many times does the word 'star' appear in the text?
| 2
|
And in the dumps."
"Our spirits are at the bottom of the bottomless pit."
"So what we need is--a change."
"There it goes!" said the Major ruefully. "I knew very well any idea
of John Merrick's would cause us misery. But understand this, you
miserable home-wrecker, sir, my daughter Patsy steps not one foot out
of New York this winter."
"Why not?" mildly inquired Uncle John.
"Because you've spirited her away from me times enough, and deprived
her only parent of her society. First you gallivanted off to Europe,
and then to Millville, and next to Elmhurst; so now, egad, I'm going
to keep the girl with me if I have to throttle every idea in your
wicked old head!"
"But I'm planning to take you along, this time. Major," observed Uncle
John reflectively.
"Oh. Hum! Well, I can't go. There's too much business to be attended
to--looking after your horrible money."
"Take a vacation. You know I don't care anything about the business.
It can't go very wrong, anyhow. What does it matter if my income isn't
invested properly, or the bond coupons cut when they're due? Drat the
money!"
"That's what I say," added Patsy eagerly. "Be a man, Major Doyle, and
put the business out of your mind. Let's go somewhere and have a good
romp. It will cheer us up."
The Major stared first at one and then at the other.
"What's the programme, John?" he asked stiffly.
"It's going to be a cold winter," remarked the little man, bobbing his
head up and down slowly.
"It is!" cried Patsy, clasping her hands fervently. "I can feel it in
my bones."
"So we're going," said Uncle John, impressively, "to California--where
they grow sunshine and roses to offset our blizzards and icicles."
"Hurray!" shouted Patsy. "I've always wanted to go to California."
"California!" said the Major, amazed; "why, it's farther away than
Europe. It takes a month to get there."
"Nonsense." retorted Uncle John. "It's only four days from coast to
coast. I have a time-table, somewhere," and he began searching in his
pockets.
There was a silence, oppressive on the Major's part, ecstatic as far
as Patsy was concerned. Uncle John found the railway folder, put on
his spectacles, and began to examine it.
"At my time of life," remarked Major Doyle, who was hale and hearty as
a boy, "such a trip is a great undertaking."
"Twenty-four hours to Chicago," muttered Uncle John; "and then three
days to Los Angeles or San Francisco. That's all there is to it."
"Four days and four nights of dreary riding. We'd be dead by that
time," prophesied the Major.
Uncle John looked thoughtful. Then he lay back in his chair and spread
his handkerchief over his face again.
"No, no!" cried the Major, in alarm. "For mercy's sake, John, don't
go to sleep and catch any more of those terrible ideas. No one knows
where the next one might carry us--to Timbuktu or Yucatan, probably.
Let's stick to California and settle the question before your hothouse
brain grows any more weeds."
"Yucatan," remarked Mr. Merrick, composedly, his voice muffled by the
handkerchief, "isn't a bad suggestion."
"I knew it!" wailed the Major. "How would Ethiopia or Hindustan strike
you?"
Patsy laughed at him. She knew something good was in store for her
and like all girls was enraptured at the thought of visiting new and
interesting scenes.
"Don't bother Uncle John, Daddy," she said. "You know very well he
will carry out any whim that seizes him; especially if you oppose the
plan, which you usually do."
"He's the most erratic and irresponsible man that ever lived,"
announced her father, staring moodily at the spread handker
|
what
|
How many times does the word 'what' appear in the text?
| 3
|
Bruce Willis & Robert Kraft
A Silver Pictures/Flying Heart Films June 14, 1990
Production
<b> NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS
</b><b> AND SOME "SCENE OMITTED" SLUGS. THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR
</b><b> THIS SOFT COPY.
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. VINCI COUNTRYSIDE - RENAISSANCE - DAY
</b>
Beneath a jawdroppingly storybook castle, a small
Renaissance Fair with florid awnings, demented ACROBATS
and roaring puppets is unfolding.
RUSTIC FARMERS and their families rumble with enjoyment
at the Sabbath afternoon entertainment.
Encircled by children, A JUGGLER WITH AN UNFORGETTABLY
ETCHED FACE elegantly plucks the red balls from a pouch
on his mule. As he begins to juggle, a LOUD EXPLOSION
is heard, causing him to ungracefully drop his balls
and collapse in a heap.
Everyone at the fair, including the puppets, looks up.
<b> UNFORGETTABLE JUGGLER
</b> Leonardo, che pazzo.
The juggler shakes his fist up to a swish pan that swings
up toward a smoking window of the awesome castle...
<b> INT. ROOM OF THE GOLD MACHINE
</b>
where the charismatic LEONARDO DA VINCI laughs down at
him. Da Vinci wears a pair of very early, very cool sun-
glasses with his trademark beard.
He turns and loses his smile, something extraordinary
reflecting off his glasses. Removing his shades, Da
Vinci moves to the Something, a gloriously incredible
machine. The opening CREDITS REVEAL its dazzling idio-
syncrasies.
TWO COUGHING APPRENTICES haplessly try to disperse smoke
from the still billowing, mysteriously spectacular
Machine. Mirrors attached to parts of it reflect beams
of light which cut through the smoke like a Renaissance
laser show.
<b> DA VINCI
</b> (silencing authority)
Basta vapore.
The apprentice throws a lever. A shunt near the furnace
turns. Steam escapes upwards. The machine immediately
slows down. Da Vinci oh-so-gently coughs and moves for-
ward with tongs.
<b> A LITTLE TROUGH - IN THE MACHINE'S INNARDS
</b>
comes to a trembling, mystical halt. Right behind this
trough is a CONPLEX POLYHEDRON CRYSTAL as intricately
modulated as any Rubik stocking stuffer, but much more
dazzling in beauty. It gleams like a jewel in the yellow
glow which pours from a PLEASANTLY GRIN
|
juggler
|
How many times does the word 'juggler' appear in the text?
| 2
|
, and was taking her usual place in the
pretty sitting-room which divided the bedrooms of the sisters, bent on
finishing a plan for some buildings (a kind of work which she delighted
in), when Celia, who had been watching her with a hesitating desire to
propose something, said--
"Dorothea, dear, if you don't mind--if you are not very busy--suppose
we looked at mamma's jewels to-day, and divided them? It is exactly
six months to-day since uncle gave them to you, and you have not looked
at them yet."
Celia's face had the shadow of a pouting expression in it, the full
presence of the pout being kept back by an habitual awe of Dorothea and
principle; two associated facts which might show a mysterious
electricity if you touched them incautiously. To her relief,
Dorothea's eyes were full of laughter as she looked up.
"What a wonderful little almanac you are, Celia! Is it six calendar or
six lunar months?"
"It is the last day of September now, and it was the first of April
when uncle gave them to you. You know, he said that he had forgotten
them till then. I believe you have never thought of them since you
locked them up in the cabinet here."
"Well, dear, we should never wear them, you know." Dorothea spoke in a
full cordial tone, half caressing, half explanatory. She had her
pencil in her hand, and was making tiny side-plans on a margin.
Celia colored, and looked very grave. "I think, dear, we are wanting
in respect to mamma's memory, to put them by and take no notice of
them. And," she added, after hesitating a little, with a rising sob of
mortification, "necklaces are quite usual now; and Madame Poincon, who
was stricter in some things even than you are, used to wear ornaments.
And Christians generally--surely there are women in heaven now who wore
jewels." Celia was conscious of some mental strength when she really
applied herself to argument.
"You would like to wear them?" exclaimed Dorothea, an air of astonished
discovery animating her whole person with a dramatic action which she
had caught from that very Madame Poincon who wore the ornaments. "Of
course, then, let us have them out. Why did you not tell me before?
But the keys, the keys!" She pressed her hands against the sides of her
head and seemed to despair of her memory.
"They are here," said Celia, with whom this explanation had been long
meditated and prearranged.
"Pray open the large drawer of the cabinet and get out the jewel-box."
The casket was soon open before them, and the various jewels spread
out, making a bright parterre on the table. It was no great
collection, but a few of the ornaments were really of remarkable
beauty, the finest that was obvious at first being a necklace of purple
amethysts set in exquisite gold work, and a pearl cross with five
brilliants in it. Dorothea immediately took up the necklace and
fastened it round her sister's neck, where it fitted almost as closely
as a bracelet; but the circle suited the Henrietta-Maria style of
Celia's head and neck, and she could see that it did, in the pier-glass
opposite.
"There, Celia! you can wear that with your Indian muslin. But this
cross you must wear with your dark dresses."
Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. "O Dodo, you must keep
the cross yourself."
"No, no, dear, no," said Dorothea, putting up her hand with careless
deprecation.
"Yes, indeed you must; it would suit you--in your black dress, now,"
said Celia, insistingly. "You _might_ wear that."
"Not for the world, not for the world. A cross is the last thing I
would wear as a trinket." Dorothea shuddered slightly.
"Then you will think it wicked in me to wear it," said Celia, uneas
|
your
|
How many times does the word 'your' appear in the text?
| 2
|
so in this, postponement became fatality; the horse stumbled and fell,
and its driver was flung head forward into the road. Some hours later
they brought him to his home, and for a day or two there were hopes
that he might rally. But the sufferer's respite only permitted him to
dictate and sign a brief will; this duty performed, Dr. Madden closed
his lips for ever.
CHAPTER II
ADRIFT
Just before Christmas of 1887, a lady past her twenties, and with a
look of discouraged weariness on her thin face, knocked at a house-door
in a little street by Lavender Hill. A card in the window gave notice
that a bedroom was here to let. When the door opened, and a clean,
grave, elderly woman presented herself, the visitor, regarding her
anxiously, made known that she was in search of a lodging.
'It may be for a few weeks only, or it may be for a longer period,' she
said in a low, tired voice, with an accent of good breeding. 'I have a
difficulty in finding precisely what I want. One room would be
sufficient, and I ask for very little attendance.'
She had but one room to let, replied the other. It might be inspected.
They went upstairs. The room was at the back of the house, small, but
neatly furnished. Its appearance seemed to gratify the visitor, for she
smiled timidly.
'What rent should you ask?'
'That would depend, mum, on what attendance was required.'
'Yes--of course. I think--will you permit me to sit down? I am really
very tired. Thank you. I require very little attendance indeed. My ways
are very simple. I should make the bed myself, and--and, do the other
little things that are necessary from day to day. Perhaps I might ask
you to sweep the room out--once a week or so.'
The landlady grew meditative. Possibly she had had experience of
lodgers who were anxious to give as little trouble as possible. She
glanced furtively at the stranger.
'And what,' was her question at length, 'would you be thinking of
paying?'
'Perhaps I had better explain my position. For several years I have
been companion to a lady in Hampshire. Her death has thrown me on my
own resources--I hope only for a short time. I have come to London
because a younger sister of mine is employed here in a house of
business; she recommended me to seek for lodgings in this part; I might
as well be near her whilst I am endeavouring to find another post;
perhaps I may be fortunate enough to find one in London. Quietness and
economy are necessary to me. A house like yours would suit me very
well--very well indeed. Could we not agree upon terms within my--within
my power?'
Again the landlady pondered.
'Would you be willing to pay five and sixpence?'
'Yes, I would pay five and sixpence--if you are quite sure that you
could let me live in my own way with satisfaction to yourself. I--in
fact, I am a vegetarian, and as the meals I take are so very simple, I
feel that I might just as well prepare them myself. Would you object to
my doing so in this room? A kettle and a saucepan are really
all--absolutely all--that I should need to use. As I shall be much at
home, it will be of course necessary for me to have a fire.'
In the course of half an hour an agreement had been devised which
seemed fairly satisfactory to both parties.
'I'm not one of the graspin' ones,' remarked the landlady. 'I think I
may say that of myself. If I make five or six shillings a week out of
my spare room, I don't grumble. But the party as takes it must do their
duty on _their_ side. You haven't told me your name yet, mum.'
'Miss Madden. My luggage is at the railway station; it shall be brought
here this evening. And, as I am quite unknown to you, I shall be glad
to pay my rent in advance.'
'Well, I don't ask for that; but it's just as you like.'
'Then I will pay you five
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 8
|
no
lack. The nymphs searched the forest for bell-udders, which grow upon
the goa-tree and when opened are found to be filled with sweet milk.
And the soft-eyed does willingly gave a share of their milk to support
the little stranger, while Shiegra, the lioness, often crept stealthily
into Necile's bower and purred softly as she lay beside the babe and
fed it.
So the little one flourished and grew big and sturdy day by day, while
Necile taught him to speak and to walk and to play.
His thoughts and words were sweet and gentle, for the nymphs knew no
evil and their hearts were pure and loving. He became the pet of the
forest, for Ak's decree had forbidden beast or reptile to molest him,
and he walked fearlessly wherever his will guided him.
Presently the news reached the other immortals that the nymphs of
Burzee had adopted a human infant, and that the act had been sanctioned
by the great Ak. Therefore many of them came to visit the little
stranger, looking upon him with much interest. First the Ryls, who are
first cousins to the wood-nymphs, although so differently formed. For
the Ryls are required to watch over the flowers and plants, as the
nymphs watch over the forest trees. They search the wide world for the
food required by the roots of the flowering plants, while the brilliant
colors possessed by the full-blown flowers are due to the dyes placed
in the soil by the Ryls, which are drawn through the little veins in
the roots and the body of the plants, as they reach maturity. The Ryls
are a busy people, for their flowers bloom and fade continually, but
they are merry and light-hearted and are very popular with the other
immortals.
Next came the Knooks, whose duty it is to watch over the beasts of the
world, both gentle and wild. The Knooks have a hard time of it, since
many of the beasts are ungovernable and rebel against restraint. But
they know how to manage them, after all, and you will find that certain
laws of the Knooks are obeyed by even the most ferocious animals.
Their anxieties make the Knooks look old and worn and crooked, and
their natures are a bit rough from associating with wild creatures
continually; yet they are most useful to humanity and to the world in
general, as their laws are the only laws the forest beasts recognize
except those of the Master Woodsman.
Then there were the Fairies, the guardians of mankind, who were much
interested in the adoption of Claus because their own laws forbade them
to become familiar with their human charges. There are instances on
record where the Fairies have shown themselves to human beings, and
have even conversed with them; but they are supposed to guard the lives
of mankind unseen and unknown, and if they favor some people more than
others it is because these have won such distinction fairly, as the
Fairies are very just and impartial. But the idea of adopting a child
of men had never occurred to them because it was in every way opposed
to their laws; so their curiosity was intense to behold the little
stranger adopted by Necile and her sister nymphs.
Claus looked upon the immortals who thronged around him with fearless
eyes and smiling lips. He rode laughingly upon the shoulders of the
merry Ryls; he mischievously pulled the gray beards of the low-browed
Knooks; he rested his curly head confidently upon the dainty bosom of
the Fairy Queen herself. And the Ryls loved the sound of his laughter;
the Knooks loved his courage; the Fairies loved his innocence.
The boy made friends of them all, and learned to know their laws
intimately. No forest flower was trampled beneath his feet, lest the
friendly Ryls should be grieved. He never interfered with the beasts
of the forest, lest his friends the Knooks should become angry. The
Fairies he loved dearly, but, knowing nothing of mankind, he could not
understand that he was the only one of his race admitted to friendly
intercourse with them.
Indeed, Claus came to consider that he alone, of all the forest people,
had no like
|
reached
|
How many times does the word 'reached' appear in the text?
| 0
|
he has
on the one side a singular sense of the familiar, salient, importunate
facts of life, on the other they reproduce themselves in his mind in a
delightfully qualifying medium. It is this medium that the fond observer
must especially envy Mr. Abbey, and that a literary observer will envy
him most of all.
Such a hapless personage, who may have spent hours in trying to produce
something of the same result by sadly different means, will measure
the difference between the roundabout, faint descriptive tokens of
respectable prose and the immediate projection of the figure by the
pencil. A charming story-teller indeed he would be who should write as
Mr. Abbey draws. However, what is style for one art is style for other,
so blessed is the fraternity that binds them together, and the worker
in words may take a lesson from the picture-maker of "She Stoops to
Conquer." It is true that what the verbal artist would like to do
would be to find out the secret of the pictorial, to drink at the same
fountain. Mr. Abbey is essentially one of those who would tell us if he
could, and conduct us to the magic spring; but here he is in the nature
of the case helpless, for the happy _ambiente_ as the Italians call it,
in which his creations move is exactly the thing, as I take it, that
he can least give an account of. It is a matter of genius and
imagination--one of those things that a man determines for himself as
little as he determines the color of his eyes. How, for instance, can
Mr. Abbey explain the manner in which he directly _observes_ figures,
scenes, places, that exist only in the fairy-land of his fancy? For the
peculiar sign of his talent is surely this observation in the remote. It
brings the remote near to us, but such a complicated journey as it must
first have had to make! Remote in time (in differing degrees), remote
in place, remote in feeling, in habit, and in their ambient air, are the
images that spring from his pencil, and yet all so vividly, so minutely,
so consistently seen! Where does he see them, where does he find them,
how does he catch them, and in what language does he delightfully
converse with them? In what mystic recesses of space does the revelation
descend upon him?
The questions flow from the beguiled but puzzled admirer, and their
tenor sufficiently expresses the claim I make for the admirable artist
when I say that his truth is interfused with poetry. He spurns the
literal and yet superabounds in the characteristic, and if he makes
the strange familiar he makes the familiar just strange enough to be
distinguished. Everything is so human, so humorous and so caught in the
act, so buttoned and petticoated and gartered, that it might be round
the corner; and so it is--but the corner is the corner of another world.
In that other world Mr. Abbey went forth to dwell in extreme youth, as I
need scarcely be at pains to remind those who have followed him in
Harper. It is not important here to give a catalogue of his
contributions to that journal: turn to the back volumes and you will
meet him at every step. Every one remembers his young, tentative,
prelusive illustrations to Herrick, in which there are the prettiest
glimpses, guesses and foreknowledge of the effects he was to make
completely his own. The Herrick was done mainly, if I mistake not,
before he had been to England, and it remains, in the light of this
fact, a singularly touching as well as a singularly promising
performance. The eye of sense in such a case had to be to a rare extent
the mind's eye, and this convertibility of the two organs has persisted.
From the first and always that other world and that qualifying medium
in which I have said that the human spectacle goes on for Mr. Abbey have
been a county of old England which is not to be found in any geography,
though it borders, as I have hinted, on the Worcestershire Broadway. Few
artistic phenomena are more curious than the congenital acquaintance of
this perverse young Philadelphian with that mysterious locality. It is
there that he finds them all--the nooks, the corners, the people, the
clothes, the arbors and gardens and
|
projection
|
How many times does the word 'projection' appear in the text?
| 0
|
nearby. The meat dangled from a rope fastened to a
huizache tree, to dry in the sun and wind.
"Well, men," Demetrio said, "you know we've only twenty rifles, besides
my thirty-thirty. If there are just a few of them, we'll shoot until
there's not a live man left. If there's a lot of 'em, we can give 'em a
good scare, anyhow."
He undid a rag belt about his waist, loosened a knot in it and offered
the contents to his companions. Salt. A murmur of approbation rose
among them as each took a few grains between the tips of his fingers.
They ate voraciously; then, glutted, lay down on the ground, facing the
sky. They sang monotonous, sad songs, uttering a strident shout after
each stanza.
III
In the brush and foliage of the sierra, Demetrio Macias and his
threescore men slept until the halloo of the horn, blown by Pancracio
from the crest of a peak, awakened them.
"Time, boys! Look around and see what's what!" Anastasio Montanez said,
examining his rifle springs. Yet he was previous; an hour or more
elapsed with no sound or stir save the song of the locust in the brush
or the frog stirring in his mudhole. At last, when the ultimate faint
rays of the moon were spent in the rosy dimness of the dawn, the
silhouette of a soldier loomed at the end of the trail. As they
strained their eyes, they could distinguish others behind him, ten,
twenty, a hundred. ... Then, suddenly, darkness swallowed them up. Only
when the sun rose, Demetrio's band realized that the canyon was alive
with men, midgets seated on miniature horses.
"Look at 'em, will you?" said Pancracio. "Pretty, ain't they? Come on,
boys, let's go and roll marbles with 'em."
Now the moving dwarf figures were lost in the dense chaparral, now they
reappeared, stark and black against the ocher. The voices of officers,
as they gave orders, and soldiers, marching at ease, were clearly
audible. Demetrio raised his hand; the locks of rifles clicked. "Fire!"
he cried tensely.
Twenty-one men shot as one; twenty-one soldiers fell off their horses.
Caught by surprise, the column halted, etched like bas-reliefs in stone
against the rocks.
Another volley and a score of soldiers hurtled down from rock to rock.
"Come out, bandits. Come out, you starved dogs!"
"To hell with you, you corn rustlers!"
"Kill the cattle thieves! Kill 'em!"
The soldiers shouted defiance to their enemies; the latter, giving
proof of a marksmanship which had already made them famous, were
content to keep under cover, quiet, mute.
"Look, Pancracio," said Meco, completely black save for his eyes and
teeth. "This is for that man who passes that tree. I'll get the son of
a ..."
"Take that! Right in the head. You saw it, didn't you, mate? Now, this
is for the fellow on the roan horse. Down you come, you shave-headed
bastard!"
"I'll give that lad on the trail's edge a shower of lead. If you don't
hit the river, I'm a liar! Now: look at him!"
"Oh, come on, Anastasio don't be cruel; lend me your rifle. Come along,
one shot, just one!"
Manteca and Quail, unarmed, begged for a gun as a boon, imploring
permission to fire at least a shot apiece. "Come out of your holes if
you've got any guts!"
"Show your faces, you lousy cowards!"
From peak to peak, the shouts rang as distinctly as though uttered
across a street. Suddenly, Quail stood up, naked, holding his trousers
to windward as though he were a bullfighter flaunting a red cape, and
the soldiers below the bull. A shower of shots peppered upon Demetrio's
men.
"God! That was like a
|
soldiers
|
How many times does the word 'soldiers' appear in the text?
| 4
|
ends to consider
himself bound to keep up the tradition and adopt somebody to
leave the business to. Of course I was not going to stand that.
There may have been some reason for it when the Undershafts could
only marry women in their own class, whose sons were not fit to
govern great estates. But there could be no excuse for passing
over my son.
STEPHEN [dubiously] I am afraid I should make a poor hand of
managing a cannon foundry.
LADY BRITOMART. Nonsense! you could easily get a manager and pay
him a salary.
STEPHEN. My father evidently had no great opinion of my capacity.
LADY BRITOMART. Stuff, child! you were only a baby: it had
nothing to do with your capacity. Andrew did it on principle,
just as he did every perverse and wicked thing on principle. When
my father remonstrated, Andrew actually told him to his face that
history tells us of only two successful institutions: one the
Undershaft firm, and the other the Roman Empire under the
Antonines. That was because the Antonine emperors all adopted
their successors. Such rubbish! The Stevenages are as good as the
Antonines, I hope; and you are a Stevenage. But that was Andrew
all over. There you have the man! Always clever and unanswerable
when he was defending nonsense and wickedness: always awkward and
sullen when he had to behave sensibly and decently!
STEPHEN. Then it was on my account that your home life was broken
up, mother. I am sorry.
LADY BRITOMART. Well, dear, there were other differences. I
really cannot bear an immoral man. I am not a Pharisee, I hope;
and I should not have minded his merely doing wrong things: we
are none of us perfect. But your father didn't exactly do wrong
things: he said them and thought them: that was what was so
dreadful. He really had a sort of religion of wrongness just as
one doesn't mind men practising immorality so long as they own
that they are in the wrong by preaching morality; so I couldn't
forgive Andrew for preaching immorality while he practised
morality. You would all have grown up without principles, without
any knowledge of right and wrong, if he had been in the house.
You know, my dear, your father was a very attractive man in some
ways. Children did not dislike him; and he took advantage of it
to put the wickedest ideas into their heads, and make them quite
unmanageable. I did not dislike him myself: very far from it; but
nothing can bridge over moral disagreement.
STEPHEN. All this simply bewilders me, mother. People may differ
about matters of opinion, or even about religion; but how can
they differ about right and wrong? Right is right; and wrong is
wrong; and if a man cannot distinguish them properly, he is
either a fool or a rascal: that's all.
LADY BRITOMART [touched] That's my own boy [she pats his cheek]!
Your father never could answer that: he used to laugh and get out
of it under cover of some affectionate nonsense. And now that you
understand the situation, what do you advise me to do?
STEPHEN. Well, what can you do?
LADY BRITOMART. I must get the money somehow.
STEPHEN. We cannot take money from him. I had rather go and live
in some cheap place like Bedford Square or even Hampstead than
take a farthing of his money.
LADY BRITOMART. But after all, Stephen, our present income comes
from Andrew.
STEPHEN [shocked] I never knew that.
LADY BRITOMART. Well, you surely didn't suppose your grandfather
had anything to give me. The Stevenages could not do everything
for you. We gave you social position. Andrew had to contribute
something. He had a very good bargain, I think.
STEPHEN [bitterly] We are utterly dependent on him and his
cannons, then!
LADY BRITOMART. Certainly not: the money is settled. But he
provided it. So you see it is not
|
morality
|
How many times does the word 'morality' appear in the text?
| 1
|
was fiction. The legend of the
Blair Witch is, apparently, true,
however--
CUT TO:
DIANE SAWYER on "Good Morning America."
DIANE SAWYER
--the brass tacks of the matter
is, love it or hate it, "Blair
Witch" has escalated from being
merely another cinema success
story to a genuine nationwide
phenomenon--if not obsession.
Profits from merchandising tie-
ins going through the roof--
CUT AWAY TO:
Montage of Blair Witch paraphernalia:
--t-shirts and other apparel
--keychains
--posters
--the books-The Blair Witch Project: A Dossier; Heather's Journal
--the CD "Josh's Blair Witch Mix"
DIANE SAWYER (V.O.)
--the official "Blair Witch" web-
site now having received 75
million "hits" to date--
--shot of computer screen, on-line: The Blair Witch Store
DIANE SAWYER (V.O.)
--with that web-site, in just a
matter of a few weeks, begatting
dozens more web-sites, with chat
rooms so packed with fans and foes
you're lucky to get a cyber-word
in edge-wise--
CUT TO:
Computer Screen showing a Chat Room in progress--exchanges flying
back and forth like lightning:
<b>GIRLGENIUS:</b> if story true, then how come end credits
list "written by"???
<b>WARLOX:</b> all docs are written by--somebody has to put
all the pieces together like a story
<b>K-RATIONAL:</b> that's EDITING, idiot--they made whole
|
sawyer
|
How many times does the word 'sawyer' appear in the text?
| 3
|
well in his movements as in his port, his eye, and the general
expression of his face. He greeted me with brevity, and, in the moment
of shaking hands, scanned me from head to foot; he took his seat in the
morocco covered arm-chair, and motioned me to another seat.
"'I expected you would have called at the counting-house in the Close,'
said he; and his voice, I noticed, had an abrupt accent, probably
habitual to him; he spoke also with a guttural northern tone, which
sounded harsh in my ears, accustomed to the silvery utterance of the
South.
"'The landlord of the inn, where the coach stopped, directed me here,'
said I. 'I doubted at first the accuracy of his information, not being
aware that you had such a residence as this.'
"'Oh, it is all right!' he replied, 'only I was kept half an hour behind
time, waiting for you--that is all. I thought you must be coming by the
eight o'clock coach.'
"I expressed regret that he had had to wait; he made no answer, but
stirred the fire, as if to cover a movement of impatience; then he
scanned me again.
"I felt an inward satisfaction that I had not, in the first moment of
meeting, betrayed any warmth, any enthusiasm; that I had saluted this
man with a quiet and steady phlegm.
"'Have you quite broken with Tynedale and Seacombe?' he asked hastily.
"'I do not think I shall have any further communication with them; my
refusal of their proposals will, I fancy, operate as a barrier against
all future intercourse.'
"'Why,' said he, 'I may as well remind you at the very outset of our
connection, that "no man can serve two masters." Acquaintance with Lord
Tynedale will be incompatible with assistance from me.' There was a kind
of gratuitous menace in his eye as he looked at me in finishing this
observation.
"Feeling no disposition to reply to him, I contented myself with an
inward speculation on the differences which exist in the constitution
of men's minds. I do not know what inference Mr. Crimsworth drew from
my silence--whether he considered it a symptom of contumacity or an
evidence of my being cowed by his peremptory manner. After a long and
hard stare at me, he rose sharply from his seat.
"'To-morrow,' said he, 'I shall call your attention to some other
points; but now it is supper time, and Mrs. Crimsworth is probably
waiting; will you come?'
"He strode from the room, and I followed. In crossing the hall, I
wondered what Mrs. Crimsworth might be. 'Is she,' thought I, 'as alien
to what I like as Tynedale, Seacombe, the Misses Seacombe--as the
affectionate relative now striding before me? or is she better than
these? Shall I, in conversing with her, feel free to show something of
my real nature; or--' Further conjectures were arrested by my entrance
into the dining-room.
"A lamp, burning under a shade of ground-glass, showed a handsome
apartment, wainscoted with oak; supper was laid on the table; by the
fire-place, standing as if waiting our entrance, appeared a lady;
she was young, tall, and well shaped; her dress was handsome and
fashionable: so much my first glance sufficed to ascertain. A gay
salutation passed between her and Mr. Crimsworth; she chid him, half
playfully, half poutingly, for being late; her voice (I always take
voices into the account in judging of character) was lively--it
indicated, I thought, good animal spirits. Mr. Crimsworth soon checked
her animated scolding with a kiss--a kiss that still told of the
bridegroom (they had not yet been married a year); she took her seat
at the supper-table in first-rate spirits. Perceiving me, she begged
my pardon for not noticing me before, and then shook hands with me, as
ladies do when a flow of good-humour disposes them to be cheerful to
all, even the most indifferent
|
said
|
How many times does the word 'said' appear in the text?
| 3
|
([email protected])
<b>-------------------------------------------------------------------
</b>
(1) Black Screen
SOUND under: MUSIC building in INTENSITY
as--
<b> PRINCE
</b> (over)
Dearly belov`ed,
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing
called life.
Electric word life,
It means forever and that's a
mighty long time.
But I'm here to tell you that
there's something else -- The
afterworld.
Then huge CU of EYES opening, gazing
into mirror, HAND applying makeup,
sudden BLACKNESS, then--
<b> PRINCE
</b> (con't)
That's right...a world of
never-ending happiness,
You can always see the sun --
Day or night.
<b> BURN IN MAIN TITLE: PURPLE RAIN
</b>
<b> PRINCE
</b> (con't)
So when you call up that
shrink in Beverly Hills,
You know the one -- Doctor
Everything'll Be Alright--
Instead of asking him how much
of your mind is left,
Ask him how much of your time,
`Cause in this life,
Things are much harder than in
the afterworld,
In this life, You're on your
own.
Now, pulsating COLOR -- FLASHES of hot,
white LIGHT...
<b> PRINCE
</b>
|
time
|
How many times does the word 'time' appear in the text?
| 1
|
runaway rebel. Or, how could he
ever have dreamed, when involved in the autumnal vapors of these
mountains, that worse bewilderments awaited him three thousand miles
across the sea, wandering forlorn in the coal-foes of London. But so it
was destined to be. This little boy of the hills, born in sight of the
sparkling Housatonic, was to linger out the best part of his life a
prisoner or a pauper upon the grimy banks of the Thames.
CHAPTER II.
THE YOUTHFUL ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL.
Imagination will easily picture the rural day of the youth of Israel.
Let us pass on to a less immature period.
It appears that he began his wanderings very early; moreover, that ere,
on just principles throwing off the yoke off his king, Israel, on
equally excusable grounds, emancipated himself from his sire. He
continued in the enjoyment of parental love till the age of eighteen,
when, having formed an attachment for a neighbor's daughter--for some
reason, not deemed a suitable match by his father--he was severely
reprimanded, warned to discontinue his visits, and threatened with some
disgraceful punishment in case he persisted. As the girl was not only
beautiful, but amiable--though, as will be seen, rather weak--and her
family as respectable as any, though unfortunately but poor, Israel
deemed his father's conduct unreasonable and oppressive; particularly as
it turned out that he had taken secret means to thwart his son with the
girl's connections, if not with the girl herself, so as to place almost
insurmountable obstacles to an eventual marriage. For it had not been
the purpose of Israel to marry at once, but at a future day, when
prudence should approve the step. So, oppressed by his father, and
bitterly disappointed in his love, the desperate boy formed the
determination to quit them both for another home and other friends.
It was on Sunday, while the family were gone to a farmhouse church near
by, that he packed up as much of his clothing as might be contained in a
handkerchief, which, with a small quantity of provision, he hid in a
piece of woods in the rear of the house. He then returned, and continued
in the house till about nine in the evening, when, pretending to go to
bed, he passed out of a back door, and hastened to the woods for his
bundle.
It was a sultry night in July; and that he might travel with the more
ease on the succeeding day, he lay down at the foot of a pine tree,
reposing himself till an hour before dawn, when, upon awaking, he heard
the soft, prophetic sighing of the pine, stirred by the first breath of
the morning. Like the leaflets of that evergreen, all the fibres of his
heart trembled within him; tears fell from his eyes. But he thought of
the tyranny of his father, and what seemed to him the faithlessness of
his love; and shouldering his bundle, arose, and marched on.
His intention was to reach the new countries to the northward and
westward, lying between the Dutch settlements on the Hudson, and the
Yankee settlements on the Housatonic. This was mainly to elude all
search. For the same reason, for the first ten or twelve miles,
shunning the public roads, he travelled through the woods; for he knew
that he would soon be missed and pursued.
He reached his destination in safety; hired out to a farmer for a month
through the harvest; then crossed from the Hudson to the Connecticut.
Meeting here with an adventurer to the unknown regions lying about the
head waters of the latter river, he ascended with this man in a canoe,
paddling and pulling for many miles. Here again he hired himself out for
three months; at the end of that time to receive for his wages two
hundred acres of land lying in New Hampshire. The cheapness of the land
was not alone owing to the newness of the country, but to the perils
investing it. Not only was it a wilderness abounding with wild beasts,
but the widely-scattered inhabitants were in continual dread of being,
at some unguarded moment, destroyed or made captive by the Canadian
savages, who, ever since the French war, had improved
|
when
|
How many times does the word 'when' appear in the text?
| 4
|
the nineteenth
century is at the disposal of the present arbiters of human affairs?
Most particularly, it is in the glorification of material pursuits, at
once the progenitor and common feature of all such ideologies, that we
find the roots which nourish the falsehood that human beings are
incorrigibly selfish and aggressive. It is here that the ground must be
cleared for the building of a new world fit for our descendants.
That materialistic ideals have, in the light of experience, failed to
satisfy the needs of mankind calls for an honest acknowledgement that a
fresh effort must now be made to find the solutions to the agonizing
problems of the planet. The intolerable conditions pervading society
bespeak a common failure of all, a circumstance which tends to incite
rather than relieve the entrenchment on every side. Clearly, a common
remedial effort is urgently required. It is primarily a matter of
attitude. Will humanity continue in its waywardness, holding to outworn
concepts and unworkable assumptions? Or will its leaders, regardless of
ideology, step forth and, with a resolute will, consult together in a
united search for appropriate solutions?
Those who care for the future of the human race may well ponder this
advice. âIf long-cherished ideals and time-honoured institutions, if
certain social assumptions and religious formulae have ceased to promote
the welfare of the generality of mankind, if they no longer minister to
the needs of a continually evolving humanity, let them be swept away and
relegated to the limbo of obsolescent and forgotten doctrines. Why should
these, in a world subject to the immutable law of change and decay, be
exempt from the deterioration that must needs overtake every human
institution? For legal standards, political and economic theories are
solely designed to safeguard the interests of humanity as a whole, and not
humanity to be crucified for the preservation of the integrity of any
particular law or doctrine.â
II
Banning nuclear weapons, prohibiting the use of poison gases, or outlawing
germ warfare will not remove the root causes of war. However important
such practical measures obviously are as elements of the peace process,
they are in themselves too superficial to exert enduring influence.
Peoples are ingenious enough to invent yet other forms of warfare, and to
use food, raw materials, finance, industrial power, ideology, and
terrorism to subvert one another in an endless quest for supremacy and
dominion. Nor can the present massive dislocation in the affairs of
humanity be resolved through the settlement of specific conflicts or
disagreements among nations. A genuine universal framework must be
adopted.
Certainly, there is no lack of recognition by national leaders of the
world-wide character of the problem, which is self-evident in the mounting
issues that confront them daily. And there are the accumulating studies
and solutions proposed by many concerned and enlightened groups as well as
by agencies of the United Nations, to remove any possibility of ignorance
as to the challenging requirements to be met. There is, however, a
paralysis of will; and it is this that must be carefully examined and
resolutely dealt with. This paralysis is rooted, as we have stated, in a
deep-seated conviction of the inevitable quarrelsomeness of mankind, which
has led to the reluctance to entertain the possibility of subordinating
national self-interest to the requirements of world order, and in an
unwillingness to face courageously the far-reaching implications of
establishing a united world authority. It is also traceable to the
incapacity of largely ignorant and subjugated masses to articulate their
desire for a new order in which they can live in peace, harmony and
prosperity with all humanity.
The tentative steps towards world order, especially since World War II,
give hopeful signs. The increasing tendency of groups of nations to
formalize relationships which enable them to co-operate in matters of
mutual interest suggests that eventually all nations could overcome this
paralysis. The Association of South East Asian Nations, the Caribbean
Community and Common Market, the Central American Common Market, the
Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, the European Communities, the
League of Arab States, the Organization of African Unity, the Organization
of American States, the South Pacific Forumâall the joint endeavours
represented by such organizations prepare the path to world order.
The increasing attention being focused on some of
|
human
|
How many times does the word 'human' appear in the text?
| 3
|
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. A SENTRY TOWER --
</b>
-- in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.
Small beams of light coming from lamps attached to the tower
cut through the ground mist. We HEAR all the unidentifiable
sounds of night in the woods. We also HEAR, very, very
faintly, a slow, deliberate drum cadence. And as this starts,
we begin to MOVE SLOWLY UP THE TOWER, more becomes visible
now:... the sandbags on the ground piled ten-high... the
steel, fire escape-type stairway wrapping around the structure
and leading to the lookout post, and finally... THE LOOKOUT
POST, maybe forty feet off the ground.
Standing the post is the silhouette of A MARINE. He's holding
a rifle and staring straight out.
The drum cadence has been building slightly.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
A WIDER SHOT OF THE FENCELINE. And we see by the moonlight
that the tall wire-mesh fence winds its way far, far into
the distance.
<b> SUBTITLE: UNITED STATES NAVAL BASE GUANTANAMO BAY - CUBA.
</b>
The drum cadence continues, and we
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> INT. A MARINE BARRACKS
</b>
We HEAR two pairs of footsteps and then
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> THE BARRACKS CORRIDOR
</b>
where we see that the footsteps belong to DAWSON and DOWNEY,
two young marines who we'll get to know later. They stop
when they get to
|
footsteps
|
How many times does the word 'footsteps' appear in the text?
| 1
|
May 28, 1985
<b>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
</b>
<b> ALIENS
</b>
<b> FADE IN
</b>
<b> SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE - SPACE 1
</b>
Silent and endless. The stars shine like the love of
God...cold and remote. Against them drifts a tiny chip
of technology.
CLOSER SHOT It is the NARCISSUS, lifeboat of the
ill-fated star-freighter Nostromo. Without interior
or running lights it seems devoid of life. The PING
of a RANGING RADAR grows louder, closer. A shadow
engulfs the Narcissus. Searchlights flash on, playing
over the tiny ship, as a MASSIVE DARK HULL descends
toward it.
<b> INT. NARCISSUS 2
</b>
Dark and dormant as a crypt. The searchlights stream
in the dusty windows. Outside, massive metal forms can
BE SEEN descending around the shuttle. Like the tolling
of a bell, a BASSO PROFUNDO CLANG reverberates through
the hull.
CLOSE ON THE AIRLOCK DOOR Light glares as a cutting
torch bursts through the metal. Sparks shower into the
room.
A second torch cuts through. They move with machine
precision, cutting a rectangular path, converging. The
torches meet. Cut off. The door falls inward REVEALING
a bizarre multi-armed figure. A ROBOT WELDER.
FIGURES ENTER, backlit and ominous. THREE MEN in
bio-isolation suits, carrying lights and equipment. They
approach a sarcophaguslike HYPERSLEEP CAPSULE, f.g.
<b> LEADER
</b> (filtered)
Internal pressure positive. Assume
nominal hull integrity. Hypersleep
capsules, style circa late twenties...
His gloved hand wipes at on opaque layer of dust on the
canopy.
ANGLE INSIDE CAPSULE as light stabs in where the dust is
wiped away, illuminating a WOMAN, her face in peaceful
|
dust
|
How many times does the word 'dust' appear in the text?
| 1
|
and Maria, the twins, women
forty years old, born on the place the year after General Moreno brought
home his handsome young bride; their two daughters, Rosa and Anita the
Little, as she was still called, though she outweighed her mother; old
Juanita, the oldest woman in the household, of whom even the Senora was
said not to know the exact age or history; and she, poor thing, could
tell nothing, having been silly for ten years or more, good for nothing
except to shell beans: that she did as fast and well as ever, and was
never happy except she was at it. Luckily for her, beans are the one
crop never omitted or stinted on a Mexican estate; and for sake of old
Juanita they stored every year in the Moreno house, rooms full of beans
in the pod (tons of them, one would think), enough to feed an army. But
then, it was like a little army even now, the Senora's household; nobody
ever knew exactly how many women were in the kitchen, or how many men
in the fields. There were always women cousins, or brother's wives or
widows or daughters, who had come to stay, or men cousins, or sister's
husbands or sons, who were stopping on their way up or down the valley.
When it came to the pay-roll, Senor Felipe knew to whom he paid wages;
but who were fed and lodged under his roof, that was quite another
thing. It could not enter into the head of a Mexican gentleman to make
either count or account of that. It would be a disgraceful niggardly
thought.
To the Senora it seemed as if there were no longer any people about the
place. A beggarly handful, she would have said, hardly enough to do the
work of the house, or of the estate, sadly as the latter had dwindled.
In the General's day, it had been a free-handed boast of his that never
less than fifty persons, men, women and children, were fed within his
gates each day; how many more, he did not care, nor know. But that time
had indeed gone, gone forever; and though a stranger, seeing the sudden
rush and muster at door and window, which followed on old Marda's
letting fly the water at Juan's head, would have thought, "Good heavens,
do all those women, children, and babies belong in that one house!" the
Senora's sole thought, as she at that moment went past the gate, was,
"Poor things! how few there are left of them! I am afraid old Marda has
to work too hard. I must spare Margarita more from the house to help
her." And she sighed deeply, and unconsciously held her rosary nearer to
her heart, as she went into the house and entered her son's bedroom. The
picture she saw there was one to thrill any mother's heart; and as it
met her eye, she paused on the threshold for a second,--only a second,
however; and nothing could have astonished Felipe Moreno so much as to
have been told that at the very moment when his mother's calm voice was
saying to him, "Good morning, my son, I hope you have slept well, and
are better," there was welling up in her heart a passionate ejaculation,
"O my glorious son! The saints have sent me in him the face of his
father! He is fit for a kingdom!"
The truth is, Felipe Moreno was not fit for a kingdom at all. If he had
been, he would not have been so ruled by his mother without ever finding
it out. But so far as mere physical beauty goes, there never was a
king born, whose face, stature, and bearing would set off a crown or a
throne, or any of the things of which the outside of royalty is made up,
better than would Felipe Moreno's. And it was true, as the Senora said,
whether the saints had anything to do with it or not, that he had the
face of his father. So strong a likeness is seldom seen. When Felipe
once, on the occasion of a grand celebration and procession, put on the
gold-wrought velvet mantle, gayly embroidered short breeches fastened at
the knee with red ribbons, and gold-and-silver-trimmed sombrero, which
his father had worn twenty-five years before, the
|
were
|
How many times does the word 'were' appear in the text?
| 5
|
fancied it could be stayed by putting up the editor of The Saturday
Review (as Mr Harris then was) to declare that he considered Dorian
Grey a highly moral book, which it certainly is. When Harris foretold
him the truth, Wilde denounced him as a fainthearted friend who was
failing him in his hour of need, and left the room in anger. Harris's
idiosyncratic power of pity saved him from feeling or shewing the
smallest resentment; and events presently proved to Wilde how insanely
he had been advised in taking the action, and how accurately Harris
had gauged the situation.
The same capacity for pity governs Harris's study of Shakespear, whom,
as I have said, he pities too much; but that he is not insensible to
humor is shewn not only by his appreciation of Wilde, but by the fact
that the group of contributors who made his editorship of The Saturday
Review so remarkable, and of whom I speak none the less highly because
I happened to be one of them myself, were all, in their various ways,
humorists.
"Sidney's Sister: Pembroke's Mother"
And now to return to Shakespear. Though Mr Harris followed Tyler in
identifying Mary Fitton as the Dark Lady, and the Earl of Pembroke as
the addressee of the other sonnets and the man who made love
successfully to Shakespear's mistress, he very characteristically
refuses to follow Tyler on one point, though for the life of me I
cannot remember whether it was one of the surmises which Tyler
published, or only one which he submitted to me to see what I would
say about it, just as he used to submit difficult lines from the
sonnets.
This surmise was that "Sidney's sister: Pembroke's mother" set
Shakespear on to persuade Pembroke to marry, and that this was the
explanation of those earlier sonnets which so persistently and
unnaturally urged matrimony on Mr W. H. I take this to be one of the
brightest of Tyler's ideas, because the persuasions in the sonnets are
unaccountable and out of character unless they were offered to please
somebody whom Shakespear desired to please, and who took a motherly
interest in Pembroke. There is a further temptation in the theory for
me. The most charming of all Shakespear's old women, indeed the most
charming of all his women, young or old, is the Countess of Rousillon
in All's Well That Ends Well. It has a certain individuality among
them which suggests a portrait. Mr Harris will have it that all
Shakespear's nice old women are drawn from his beloved mother; but I
see no evidence whatever that Shakespear's mother was a particularly
nice woman or that he was particularly fond of her. That she was a
simple incarnation of extravagant maternal pride like the mother of
Coriolanus in Plutarch, as Mr Harris asserts, I cannot believe: she
is quite as likely to have borne her son a grudge for becoming "one of
these harlotry players" and disgracing the Ardens. Anyhow, as a
conjectural model for the Countess of Rousillon, I prefer that one of
whom Jonson wrote
Sidney's sister: Pembroke's mother:
Death: ere thou has slain another,
Learnd and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.
But Frank will not have her at any price, because his ideal Shakespear
is rather like a sailor in a melodrama; and a sailor in a melodrama
must adore his mother. I do not at all belittle such sailors. They
are the emblems of human generosity; but Shakespear was not an emblem:
he was a man and the author of Hamlet, who had no illusions about his
mother. In weak moments one almost wishes he had.
Shakespear's Social Standing
On the vexed question of Shakespear's social standing Mr Harris says
that Shakespear "had not had the advantage of a middle-class
training." I suggest that Shakespear missed this questionable
advantage, not because he was socially
|
this
|
How many times does the word 'this' appear in the text?
| 3
|
She looks so haughty that I should have thought
her a princess at the very least, with a pedigree reaching as far back
as the Deluge. But this lady was no better born than many other ladies
who give themselves airs; and all sensible people laughed at her absurd
pretensions. The fact is, she had been maid-servant to the Queen when
Her Majesty was only Princess, and her husband had been head footman;
but after his death or DISAPPEARANCE, of which you shall hear presently,
this Mrs. Gruffanuff, by flattering, toadying, and wheedling her royal
mistress, became a favourite with the Queen (who was rather a weak
woman), and Her Majesty gave her a title, and made her nursery governess
to the Princess.
And now I must tell you about the Princess's learning and
accomplishments, for which she had such a wonderful character. Clever
Angelica certainly was, but as IDLE as POSSIBLE. Play at sight, indeed!
she could play one or two pieces, and pretend that she had never seen
them before; she could answer half a dozen Mangnall's Questions; but
then you must take care to ask the RIGHT ones. As for her languages,
she had masters in plenty, but I doubt whether she knew more than a few
phrases in each, for all her presence; and as for her embroidery and her
drawing, she showed beautiful specimens, it is true, but WHO DID THEM?
This obliges me to tell the truth, and to do so I must go back ever so
far, and tell you about the FAIRY BLACKSTICK.
III. TELLS WHO THE FAIRY BLACKSTICK WAS, AND WHO WERE EVER SO MANY GRAND
PERSONAGES BESIDES
Between the kingdoms of Paflagonia and Crim Tartary, there lived a
mysterious personage, who was known in those countries as the Fairy
Blackstick, from the ebony wand or crutch which she carried; on which
she rode to the moon sometimes, or upon other excursions of business or
pleasure, and with which she performed her wonders.
When she was young, and had been first taught the art of conjuring
by the necromancer, her father, she was always practicing her skill,
whizzing about from one kingdom to another upon her black stick, and
conferring her fairy favours upon this Prince or that. She had scores of
royal godchildren; turned numberless wicked people into beasts, birds,
millstones, clocks, pumps, boot jacks, umbrellas, or other absurd
shapes; and, in a word, was one of the most active and officious of the
whole College of fairies.
But after two or three thousand years of this sport, I suppose
Blackstick grew tired of it. Or perhaps she thought, 'What good am I
doing by sending this Princess to sleep for a hundred years? by fixing a
black pudding on to that booby's nose? by causing diamonds and pearls to
drop from one little girl's mouth, and vipers and toads from another's?
I begin to think I do as much harm as good by my performances. I might
as well shut my incantations up, and allow things to take their natural
course.
'There were my two young goddaughters, King Savio's wife, and Duke
Padella's wife, I gave them each a present, which was to render them
charming in the eyes of their husbands, and secure the affection of
those gentlemen as long as they lived. What good did my Rose and my Ring
do these two women? None on earth. From having all their whims indulged
by their husbands, they became capricious, lazy, ill-humoured, absurdly
vain, and leered and languished, and fancied themselves irresistibly
beautiful, when they were really quite old and hideous, the ridiculous
creatures! They used actually to patronise me when I went to pay them
a visit--ME, the Fairy Blackstick, who knows all the wisdom of the
necromancers, and could have turned them into baboons, and all their
diamonds into strings of onions, by a single wave of my rod!' So
she locked up her books in her cupboard, declined further magical
performances, and scarcely used her wand at all except as a cane to walk
about with
|
tell
|
How many times does the word 'tell' appear in the text?
| 2
|
YURI
</b> There are over 550 million firearms in
worldwide circulation. That's one firearm
for every twelve people on the planet. The
only question is...
(taking a draft and stubbing out
the cigarette)
...how do we arm the other eleven?
The camera zooms away from his face, revealing:
Yuri alone on a battlefield surrounded by the charred carcasses of
armored military vehicles and other equipment, discarded weapons and
ammunition, desert floor stained with what appears to be blood.
The faint sound of gunfire, some distance away, carries to us on the
wind.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> A TITLE SEQUENCE FOLLOWS - A CONTINUOUS SHOT FROM A CAMERA
</b><b> MOUNTED ON THE BACK OF A BULLET CASING - ILLUSTRATING THE
</b><b> LIFESPAN OF THE BULLET.
</b>
- Gunpowder is poured into a metal casing, lead slug mounted on top.
A BULLET is born. A perfect 39mm.
- The BULLET travels along a conveyor belt with thousands of
identical siblings in a Ukrainian factory so grey it's monochrome.
- The BULLET, picked up by a ham-fisted UKRAINIAN FACTORY WORKER, is
tossed into a crate.
- The BULLET, lying in its open crate, rolls down a chute where it's
inspected by a UKRAINIAN MILITARY OFFICER holding a manifest. He
seems to stare directly at our BULLET.
<b> UKRAINIAN OFFICER
</b> (to his SUBORDINATE carrying a
manifest, in Ukrainian)
Call it "agricultural machinery".
- The BULLET's crate rattles around in an open-bed truck along an
industrial road, passes a decapitated statue of LENIN.
- The crate containing our BULLET is placed on a ship in
the cold grey Odessa harbor. A container door closes, plunging the
bullet into darkness.
- The door re-opens. The BULLET, still in its crate, now basks in
bright, tropical sunshine, surrounded by an azure sea.
- The crate is removed by a pair of slim, dark hands, revealing a
glimpse of the bustling, weathered port of Abidjan in the Ivory
Coast. The crate is one of dozens unloaded from the ship.
- BULLET's POV from another open-air truck, now slogging through a
mud-clogged road in lush rainforest.
- The BULLET is unloaded from the truck in Freetown, Sierra Leone -
immediately grabbed by the young HAND of a RUF soldier.
- The BULLET is loaded into a 30-round magazine which is inserted
|
question
|
How many times does the word 'question' appear in the text?
| 0
|
November 1, 1987
<b>FADE IN:
</b>
<b>1 TITLES
</b>
The screen is composed of large, straight-edge areas of black
and white that rest against each other in a manner that suggests
some kind of pattern, without making a final sense; it is as if
we are too close to something that, could we see it from a
distance, would be clear to us.
These areas shift and change - both their own shape and their
relationship to their neighbors. New patterns are being made,
new solutions found - but they are just beyond our comprehension.
The effect should be aesthetically pleasing but simultaneously
frustrating and, perhaps, a little unsettling.
Shortly into this sequence, and subsequently inter-cut
throughout, we begin to see, in FLASHBACK, the story of
HELLRAISER. Arriving first as very short shock-images, these
brief sections eventually convey to the audience all the
necessary emotional and narrative information they will need to
understand the background to HELLBOUND.
Meanwhile, the black and white shapes are still moving, the
unseen patterns still shifting.
Over this constantly mobile background, the TITLES begin to
appear.
As the TITLES unroll, another change comes over the puzzle pieces
behind them. Where before they moved and related only in two
dimensions, gradually we see that they are now claiming depth as
well. The puzzle we are looking at is now a three-dimensional
one. The pieces are now solid blocks of various geometric
shapes, locking together, moving apart, finding their final
position.
Finally, as the TITLES come to their conclusion, the camera pulls
back until we can see clearly what we have been looking at. As
the final piece clicks into positions we see it is THE LAMENT
CONFIGURATION from HELLRAISER.
The closed box rests before our eyes a moment and then the circle
in the centre of the side that faces us gives way to an image
of a dusty street with a market. Simultaneous to this, the camera
TRACKS into this image until it fills the screen
<b>2 EXT A STREET BAZAAR DAY
</b>
The TRACK continues up through the market and then turns through
the stalls to find a store behind them. As we TRACK through the
store's doorway, we pass through a beaded curtain that
momentarily reminds us of the TORTURE ROOM in HELLRAISER.
<b>3 INT. STORE DAY
</b>
Once we are in the store itself, though, this impression disappears.
It is an ordinary, slightly seedy, junk shop.
The stall seems to sell an odd mixture of items; native trinkets
share space with second-hand items from European colonists. These
second-hand goods give us some sense of period. They suggest the
late 'twenties/early 'thirties. This is reinforced by the
sounds coming from one of them, an old-fashioned mahogany-cased
wireless. A foreign voice speaks from it in a language we don't
understand, though perhaps the words "BBC world service" are
discerned in the middle, and then a dance-hall tune of the period
begins to play. (Depending on availability, it would be nice to
have something relevant - 'I'll follow my Secret Heart', perhaps,
or 'Dancing in the Dark'.)
Into shot comes an ENGLISH OFFICER. His uniform, too, suggests
the 'twenties, the last days of Empire. He is tall, thin, and
dark-haired, but at no stage do we see his face clearly. He
stands in front of the stall.
The TRADER suddenly stands behind the counter. He has been
crouched beneath it, as if checking or preparing something. He
is a big, impressive-looking black man. His face is totally
impassive as he stares at his customer.
Neither of the men speak. Obviously, a deal has already been
struck and today is the pay-off.
The OFFICER, a little arrog
|
titles
|
How many times does the word 'titles' appear in the text?
| 3
|
1
</b>
The frame is filled with the face of PETER SULLIVAN, a 27-
year-old risk assessment analyst. He has a Doctorate from MIT
and is staring intently into a large bank of computer
screens.
An elevator door opens and FOUR HUMAN RESOURCES PEOPLE come
out of the elevator carrying large file boxes. They walk down
a long glass enclosed hallway that runs the full length of
the trading floor. The scope of the floor now comes into
frame. There are more computers than can be imagined and
several large boards on the far walls that are scrolling
thousands of numbers. PETER gives a knowing glance to the guy
sitting next to him, SETH BREGMAN, a young analyst in his
early twenties.
<b> SETH
</b> Is that them?
<b> PETER
</b> (nods yes)
<b> SETH
</b> Jesus Christ.
The HUMAN RESOURCES people turn and separate into a large
glass walled conference room that runs along the floor as
almost every person on the floor watches.
SETH (cont'd)
Are they going to do it right there?
<b> PETER
</b> Yeah.
<b> SETH
</b> Fuck me.
WILL EMERSON, sitting next to them, leans back in his chair.
<b> WILL EMERSON
</b> (whispered)
Have you guys ever seen this before?
<b> SETH
</b> No.
<b> WILL EMERSON
</b> Best to just ignore it. Keep your head
down and get back to work... and don't
watch.
<b> (CONTINUED)
</b><b> 2.
</b
|
into
|
How many times does the word 'into' appear in the text?
| 2
|
<b> INT. KIEV APARTMENT - NIGHT
</b>
We're in a large closet. JACK KIEFER, an athletic American
in his late thirties wearing a headset, is wedged into a
corner, staring at a television screen.
The television shows a surveillance view of the living room
that lies outside the confines of the closet. The TV image
is in black and white. JACK shifts, trying like hell to get
comfortable but he's been there a while
<b> ON THE SCREEN
</b>
A bare bulb shines down on the contents of a shabby hotel
room. Directly under the blub a man, GENNADY KASIMOV, sits
in a straight backed wooden chair in his blood-stained T-
shirt. There are a couple of THUGS and a stray HOOKER in the
room behind him. A legend:
<b> KIEV
</b>
KASIMOV is sobbing. Uncontrollably. A MAN enters the room,
ANATOLY, an imperious Russian in his forties, a Russian
godfather. The THUGS and HOOKERS are ushered out. ANATOLY
looks down at KASIMOV pitiously and urges him to go and sit
by him in a chair he picks up for him. KASIMOV does as he is
bid, looking gratefully up at ANATOLY. They speak in Russian
which is subtitled.
<b> ANATOLY
</b> Kasimov, Kasimov, good that you called
us.
<b> KASIMOV
</b> (sobbing)
I don't remember what happened! We were
at the bar, drinking, laughing -- having
fun.
ANATOLY gets up out of the chair and goes to a bed across the
room. A WOMAN lies half under the sheets. She's lying in an
unnatural position on the bed, and the sheets are smeared
with blood. She's dead. ANATOLY lifts her eyelid.
<b> KASIMOV
</b> I don't even know how I got here.
I swear, Anatoly, I never touched her! I
didn't lay a finger on her.
ANATOLY moves away from the WOMAN.
<b> ANATOLY
</b> Kasimov. Don't flounder.
<b> IN THE CLOSET
</b>
JACK, impatient, checks his watch.
<b>
|
russian
|
How many times does the word 'russian' appear in the text?
| 2
|
<b>______________________________________________________________________________
</b>
<b> "TOTAL RECALL"
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b>1 EXT. DESERT - DAY
</b>
All we can see, filling the entire frame is a flame-orange
sky...almost like the sky from the burning of Atlanta in
"Gone with the Wind".
SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit.
PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below...
the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and
odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust,
which alternately obscures and then reveals the image.
CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically - enlarging the film grain in
the process.
<b> SLOW DISOLVE
</b>
<b> OPENING CREDITS BEGIN.
</b>
ANOTHER SHOT of a barren landscape, once more with bizarre
rocks. Dust. Sound of wind. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD again.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
ANOTHER LANDSCAPE, but this time, in the distance are some
enormous plastic domes. Sunlight striking them and reflect-
ing causes brilliant rainbows. CAMERA optically tracks
toward the dome, seen in tantalizingly indistinct fashion
through the red dust. DISSOLVE...
ANOTHER ANGLE, and, in the distance, on the horizon of the
arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is
reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face,
though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are
some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES
optically FORWARD. DISSOLVE.
CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front.
It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move)
towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems.
As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be
stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a
terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of
fragments which hurtle toward the camera...
<b>2 INT. CATACOMB BELOW "SPHINX" - DAY
</b>
A MAN wearing a LIGHTWEIGHT THERMAL SUIT is RUNNING THROUGH
THIS LABYRINTH of TUNNELS. The GROUND TREMBLES under him,
as if in an earthquake. We cannot clearly make out his face,
especially since he wears some kind of BREATHING APPARATUS
over a portion of it.
The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls
are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite
|
sphinx
|
How many times does the word 'sphinx' appear in the text?
| 3
|
were surrounded. But much advantage could not be derived from this.
There were, indeed, differences betwixt the two classes, but, like
tribes in the mineral and vegetable world, which, resembling each other
to common eyes, can be sufficiently well discriminated by naturalists,
they were yet too similar, upon the whole, to be placed in marked
contrast with each other.
Machinery remained--the introduction of the supernatural and marvellous;
the resort of distressed authors since the days of Horace, but whose
privileges as a sanctuary have been disputed in the present age, and
well-nigh exploded. The popular belief no longer allows the possibility
of existence to the race of mysterious beings which hovered betwixt
this world and that which is invisible. The fairies have abandoned
their moonlight turf; the witch no longer holds her black orgies in the
hemlock dell; and
Even the last lingering phantom of the brain,
The churchyard ghost, is now at rest again.
From the discredit attached to the vulgar and more common modes in which
the Scottish superstition displays itself, the author was induced to
have recourse to the beautiful, though almost forgotten, theory of
astral spirits, or creatures of the elements, surpassing human beings
in knowledge and power, but inferior to them, as being subject, after
a certain space of years, to a death which is to them annihilation,
as they have no share in the promise made to the sons of Adam. These
spirits are supposed to be of four distinct kinds, as the elements from
which they have their origin, and are known, to those who have
studied the cabalistical philosophy, by the names of Sylphs, Gnomes,
Salamanders, and Naiads, as they belong to the elements of Air, Earth,
Fire, or Water. The general reader will find an entertaining account
of these elementary spirits in the French book entitled, âEntretiens de
Compte du Gabalis.â The ingenious Compte de la Motte Fouqu? composed,
in German, one of the most successful productions of his fertile
brain, where a beautiful and even afflicting effect is produced by the
introduction of a water-nymph, who loses the privilege of immortality by
consenting to become accessible to human feelings, and uniting her lot
with that of a mortal, who treats her with ingratitude.
In imitation of an example so successful, the White Lady of Avenel was
introduced into the following sheets. She is represented as connected
with the family of Avenel by one of those mystic ties, which, in ancient
times, were supposed to exist, in certain circumstances, between the
creatures of the elements and the children of men. Such instances
of mysterious union are recognized in Ireland, in the real Milosian
families, who are possessed of a Banshie; and they are known among the
traditions of the Highlands, which, in many cases, attached an immortal
being or spirit to the service of particular families or tribes. These
demons, if they are to be called so, announced good or evil fortune to
the families connected with them; and though some only condescended to
meddle with matters of importance, others, like the May Mollach, or Maid
of the Hairy Arms, condescended to mingle in ordinary sports, and even
to direct the Chief how to play at draughts.
There was, therefore, no great violence in supposing such a being as
this to have existed, while the elementary spirits were believed in;
but it was more difficult to describe or imagine its attributes and
principles of action. Shakespeare, the first of authorities in such a
case, has painted Ariel, that beautiful creature of his fancy, as only
approaching so near to humanity as to know the nature of that sympathy
which the creatures of clay felt for each other, as we learn from the
expression--âMine would, if I were human.â The inferences from this
are singular, but seem capable of regular deduction. A being, however
superior to man in length of life--in power over the elements--in
certain perceptions respecting the present, the past, and the future,
yet still incapable of human passions, of sentiments of moral good and
evil, of meriting future rewards or punishments, belongs rather to
the class of animals, than of human creatures, and must
|
from
|
How many times does the word 'from' appear in the text?
| 4
|
aton and I understand each other perfectly. We both know
that the next time we meet one of us is going to be resolved into his
component atoms, perhaps into electrons. He doesn't know that he's going
to be the one, but I do. My final word to you is to lay off--if you
don't, you and your 'competent authorities' are going to learn a lot."
"You do not care to inform me more fully as to your destination or your
plans?"
"I do not. Goodbye."
CHAPTER II
Dunark Visits Earth
Martin Crane reclined in a massive chair, the fingers of his right hand
lightly touching those of his left, listening attentively. Richard
Seaton strode up and down the room before his friend, his unruly brown
hair on end, speaking savagely between teeth clenched upon the stem of
his reeking, battered briar, brandishing a sheaf of papers.
"Mart, we're stuck--stopped dead. If my head wasn't made of solid blue
mush I'd have had a way figured out of this thing before now, but I
can't. With that zone of force the Skylark would have everything
imaginable--without it, we're exactly where we were before. That zone is
immense, man--terrific--its possibilities are unthinkable--and I'm so
cussed dumb that I can't find out how to use it intelligently--can't use
it at all, for that matter. By its very nature it is impenetrable to any
form of matter, however applied; and this calc here," slapping viciously
the sheaf of papers containing his calculations, "shows that it must
also be opaque to any wave whatever, propagated through air or through
ether, clear down to cosmic rays. Behind it, we would be blind and
helpless, so we can't use it at all. It drives me frantic! Think of a
barrier of pure force, impalpable, immaterial, and exerted along a
geometrical surface of no thickness whatever--and yet actual enough to
stop even a Millikan ray that travels a hundred thousand light-years and
then goes through twenty-seven feet of solid lead just like it was so
much vacuum! That's what we're up against! However, I'm going to try out
that model, Mart, right now. Come on, guy, snap into it! Let's get
busy!"
"You are getting idiotic again, Dick," Crane rejoined calmly, without
moving. "You know, even better than I do, that you are playing with the
most concentrated essence of energy that the world has ever seen. That
zone of force probably can be generated----"
"Probably, nothing!" barked Seaton. "It's just as evident a fact as that
stool," kicking the unoffending bit of furniture half-way across the
room as he spoke. "If you'd've let me, I'd've shown it to you
yesterday!"
"Undoubtedly, then. Grant that it is impenetrable to all matter and to
all known waves. Suppose that it should prove impenetrable also to
gravitation and to magnetism? Those phenomena probably depend upon the
ether, but we know nothing fundamental of their nature, nor of that of
the ether. Therefore your calculations, comprehensive though they are,
cannot predict the effect upon them of your zone of force. Suppose that
that zone actually does set up a barrier in the ether, so that it
nullifies gravitation, magnetism, and all allied phenomena; so that the
power-bars, the attractors and repellers, cannot work through it? Then
what? As well as showing me the zone of force, you might well have shown
me yourself flying off into space, unable to use your power and helpless
if you released the zone. No, we must know more of the fundamentals
before you try even a small-scale experiment."
"Oh, bugs! You're carrying caution to extremes, Mart. What can happen?
Even if gravitation should be nullified, I would rise only slowly,
heading south the angle of our latitude--that's thirty-nine
degrees--away from the perpendicular. I couldn't shoot off on a tangent,
as some of these hot-heads have been claiming. Inertia would make me
keep pace, approximately, with the earth in its rotation. I would rise
slowly
|
have
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| 3
|
September 30, 2007
<b> EXT. BEL AIR BAY CLUB -- PACIFIC PALISADES, CA -- MORNING
</b>
It's a beautiful spring morning in the Palisades. High atop
the cliffs, looking out over the Pacific Ocean, sits the
exclusive BEL AIR BAY CLUB. Workers bustle about the lawn,
setting up a high-end wedding.
A STRING QUARTET warms up. A team of FLORISTS arrange
centerpieces. CATERERS set the white linen tables...
<b> INT. BRIDAL SUITE -- DAY
</b>
A simple, classic wedding dress hangs on a closet door in
this sun-drenched bridal suite. Sitting at the makeup table,
surrounded by her bridesmaids, is the beautiful bride, TRACY
TURNER, 20's. She's busy doing her makeup.
Just then, Tracy's rich, stern FATHER, 50's, blows in.
<b> MR. TURNER
</b> Any word from Doug?
The way he spits out "Doug" tells us all we need to know
about how Mr. Turner feels about his future son-in-law.
<b> TRACY
</b> No, but I'm sure he's--
Just then, Tracy's CELLPHONE rings. She quickly answers it.
<b> TRACY (CONT'D)
</b> Hello?
<b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b>
<b> EXT. MOJAVE DESERT -- MORNING
</b>
Heat-waves rise off the Mojave. Standing at a lone, dust-
covered payphone in the middle of the desert is
<b> VICK LENNON
</b> He's in his late 20's, tall, rugged -- and currently a mess.
His shirt is ripped open, his aviator sunglasses are bent,
his lip is bloodied, and he clearly hasn't slept in days.
<b> VICK
</b> Tracy, it's Vick.
Parked on the dirt road behind Vick is his near-totalled 1967
Cadillac Deville convertible; it's scratched, dented, filthy -
- and missing
|
morning
|
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| 2
|
minimum such credit will appear where any other comparable
authorship credit appears and in a manner at least as prominent as such
other comparable authorship credit.
5. Representations, Warranties and Disclaimer
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--
======== PROLOGUE ========
I lived long enough to see the cure for death; to see the rise of the
Bitchun Society, to learn ten languages; to compose three symphonies; to
realize my boyhood dream of taking up residence in Disney World; to see
the
|
release
|
How many times does the word 'release' appear in the text?
| 1
|
the dust in the
town is really extraordinary to-day," he wound up.
"Maman, maman," cried a pretty little girl of eleven running into the
room, "Vladimir Nikolaitch is coming on horseback!"
Marya Dmitrievna got up; Sergei Petrovitch also rose and made a bow.
"Our humble respects to Elena Mihalovna," he said, and turning aside
into a corner for good manners, he began blowing his long straight nose.
"What a splendid horse he has!" continued the little girl. "He was at
the gate just now, he told Lisa and me he would dismount at the steps."
The sound of hoofs was heard; and a graceful young man, riding a
beautiful bay horse, was seen in the street, and stopped at the open
window.
Chapter III
"How do you do, Marya Dmitrievna?" cried the young man in a pleasant,
ringing voice. "How do you like my new purchase?"
Marya Dmitrievna went up to the window.
"How do you do, Woldemar! Ah, what a splendid horse! Where did you buy
it?"
"I bought it from the army contractor.... He made me pay for it too, the
brigand!"
"What's its name?"
"Orlando.... But it's a stupid name; I want to change.... Eh bien, eh
bien, mon garcon.... What a restless beast it is!" The horse snorted,
pawed the ground, and shook the foam off the bit.
"Lenotchka, stroke him, don't be afraid."
The little girl stretched her hand out of the window, but Orlando
suddenly reared and started. The rider with perfect self-possession gave
it a cut with the whip across the neck, and keeping a tight grip with
his legs forced it in spite of its opposition, to stand still again at
the window.
"Prenez garde, prenez garde," Marya Dmitrievna kept repeating.
"Lenotchka, pat him," said the young man, "I won't let him be perverse."
The little girl again stretched out her hand and timidly patted the
quivering nostrils of the horse, who kept fidgeting and champing the
bit.
"Bravo!" cried Marya Dmitrievna, "but now get off and come in to us."
The rider adroitly turned his horse, gave him a touch of the spur, and
galloping down the street soon reached the courtyard. A minute later
he ran into the drawing-room by the door from the hall, flourishing his
whip; at the same moment there appeared in the other doorway a tall,
slender dark-haired girl of nineteen, Marya Dmitrievna's eldest
daughter, Lisa.
Chapter IV
The name of the young man whom we have just introduced to the reader
was Vladimir Nikolaitch Panshin. He served in Petersburg on special
commissions in the department of internal affairs. He had come to the
town of O---- to carry out some temporary government commissions,
and was in attendance on the Governor-General Zonnenberg, to whom he
happened to be distantly related. Panshin's father, a retired cavalry
officer and a notorious gambler, was a man with insinuating eyes, a
battered countenance, and a nervous twitch about the mouth. He spent his
whole life hanging about the aristocratic world; frequented the English
clubs of both capitals, and had the reputation of a smart, not very
trustworthy, but jolly good-natured fellow. In spite of his smartness,
he was almost always on the brink of ruin, and the property he left his
son was small and heavily-encumbered. To make up for that, however,
he did exert himself, after his own fashion, over his son's education.
Vladimir Nikolaitch spoke French very well, English well, and German
badly; that is the proper thing; fashionable people would be ashamed
to speak German well; but to utter an occasional--generally a
humorous--phrase in German is quite correct, c'est meme tres chic,
as the Parisians of Petersburg express themselves. By the time he
was fifteen, Vladimir knew how to enter any drawing-room without
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name
|
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| 2
|
would not listen. And it seemed as if Una had no
friend left, or, at least, no friend that could help her. For the little
white donkey trotted after her, afraid of nothing except to be left alone
without his mistress.
The darkness fell, and the stars that came out looked down like weeping
eyes on Una's sorrow and helplessness.
Sansloy stopped his horse at last and lifted Una down. When she shrank
from him in fear, he was so rough that she screamed for help until the
woods rang and echoed her screams.
Now in the woods there lived wild people, some of whom were more like
beasts than men and women. They were dancing merrily in the starlight when
they heard Una's cries, and they stopped their dance and ran to see what
was wrong.
When Sansloy saw them, with their rough long hair and hairy legs and arms
and strange wild faces, he was so frightened that he jumped on his horse
and galloped away.
But the wild people of the woods were more gentle than the cowardly
knight. When they saw Una, so beautiful and so frightened and so sad, they
smiled at her to show her that they meant to be kind. Then they knelt
before her to show her that they would obey her, and gently kissed her
feet.
So Una was no longer afraid, and when the wild people saw that she trusted
them, they were so glad that they jumped and danced and sang for joy. They
broke off green branches and strewed them before her as she walked, and
they crowned her with leaves to show that she was their queen. And so they
led her home to their chief, and he and the beautiful nymphs of the wood
all welcomed her with gladness.
For a long time Una lived with them and was their queen, but at last a
brave knight came that way. His father had been a wild man of the woods,
but his mother was a gentle lady. He was brave and bold as his father had
been. When he was a little boy and lived with the wild people, he used to
steal the baby lions from their mothers just for fun, and drive panthers,
and antelopes, and wild boars, and tigers and wolves with bits and
bridles, as if they were playing at horses. But he was gentle like his
mother, although he was so fearless. And when Una told him the story of
the Red Cross Knight and the lion, and of all her adventures, his heart
was filled with pity. He vowed to help her to escape, and to try to find
the Red Cross Knight. So one day he and she ran away, and by night had got
far out of reach of the wild men of the woods.
When the wicked magician knew of Una's escape, he dressed himself up like
a pilgrim and came to meet her and the brave knight of the forest.
'Have you seen, or have you heard anything about my true knight, who bears
a red cross on his breast?' asked Una of the old man.
'Ah yes,' said the magician, 'I have seen him both living and dead. To-day
I saw a terrible fight between him and another knight, and the other
knight killed him.'
When Una heard this cruel lie she fell down in a faint. The brave young
knight lifted her up and gently tried to comfort her.
'Where is this man who has slain the Red Cross Knight, and taken from us
all our joy?' he asked of the false pilgrim.
'He is near here now,' said the magician. 'I left him at a fountain,
washing his wounds.'
Off hurried the knight, so fast that Una could not keep up with him, and
sure enough, at a fountain they found a knight sitting. It was the wicked
Sansloy who had killed Una's lion and carried her away.
The brave knight rushed up to him with his drawn sword.
'You have slain the Red Cross Knight,' he said; 'come and fight and be
punished for your evil deed.'
'I never slew the Red Cross Knight,' said Sansloy, in a great rage. 'Your
enemies have sent you to me to be killed.'
Then, like two wild beasts, they fought, only resting sometimes for a
moment that they might rush at each other again with the more strength
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 11
|
firstborn by a nearly equal
interval.
Some circumstance had apparently caused much grief to Charley just
previous to the entry of the choir, and he had absently taken down a
small looking-glass, holding it before his face to learn how the human
countenance appeared when engaged in crying, which survey led him to
pause at the various points in each wail that were more than ordinarily
striking, for a thorough appreciation of the general effect. Bessy was
leaning against a chair, and glancing under the plaits about the waist of
the plaid frock she wore, to notice the original unfaded pattern of the
material as there preserved, her face bearing an expression of regret
that the brightness had passed away from the visible portions. Mrs. Dewy
sat in a brown settle by the side of the glowing wood fire--so glowing
that with a heedful compression of the lips she would now and then rise
and put her hand upon the hams and flitches of bacon lining the chimney,
to reassure herself that they were not being broiled instead of smoked--a
misfortune that had been known to happen now and then at Christmas-time.
"Hullo, my sonnies, here you be, then!" said Reuben Dewy at length,
standing up and blowing forth a vehement gust of breath. "How the blood
do puff up in anybody's head, to be sure, a-stooping like that! I was
just going out to gate to hark for ye." He then carefully began to wind
a strip of brown paper round a brass tap he held in his hand. "This in
the cask here is a drop o' the right sort" (tapping the cask); "'tis a
real drop o' cordial from the best picked apples--Sansoms, Stubbards,
Five-corners, and such-like--you d'mind the sort, Michael?" (Michael
nodded.) "And there's a sprinkling of they that grow down by the orchard-
rails--streaked ones--rail apples we d'call 'em, as 'tis by the rails
they grow, and not knowing the right name. The water-cider from 'em is
as good as most people's best cider is."
"Ay, and of the same make too," said Bowman. "'It rained when we wrung
it out, and the water got into it,' folk will say. But 'tis on'y an
excuse. Watered cider is too common among us."
"Yes, yes; too common it is!" said Spinks with an inward sigh, whilst his
eyes seemed to be looking at the case in an abstract form rather than at
the scene before him. "Such poor liquor do make a man's throat feel very
melancholy--and is a disgrace to the name of stimmilent."
"Come in, come in, and draw up to the fire; never mind your shoes," said
Mrs. Dewy, seeing that all except Dick had paused to wipe them upon the
door-mat. "I am glad that you've stepped up-along at last; and, Susan,
you run down to Grammer Kaytes's and see if you can borrow some larger
candles than these fourteens. Tommy Leaf, don't ye be afeard! Come and
sit here in the settle."
This was addressed to the young man before mentioned, consisting chiefly
of a human skeleton and a smock-frock, who was very awkward in his
movements, apparently on account of having grown so very fast that before
he had had time to get used to his height he was higher.
"Hee--hee--ay!" replied Leaf, letting his mouth continue to smile for
some time after his mind had done smiling, so that his teeth remained in
view as the most conspicuous members of his body.
"Here, Mr. Penny," resumed Mrs. Dewy, "you sit in this chair. And how's
your daughter, Mrs. Brownjohn?"
"Well, I suppose I must say pretty fair." He adjusted his spectacles a
quarter of an inch to the right. "But she'll be worse before she's
better, 'a b'lieve."
"Indeed--poor soul! And how many will that make in all, four or five?"
"Five; they've buried three
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|
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| 1
|
([email protected])
<b>-------------------------------------------------------------------
</b>
(1) Black Screen
SOUND under: MUSIC building in INTENSITY
as--
<b> PRINCE
</b> (over)
Dearly belov`ed,
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing
called life.
Electric word life,
It means forever and that's a
mighty long time.
But I'm here to tell you that
there's something else -- The
afterworld.
Then huge CU of EYES opening, gazing
into mirror, HAND applying makeup,
sudden BLACKNESS, then--
<b> PRINCE
</b> (con't)
That's right...a world of
never-ending happiness,
You can always see the sun --
Day or night.
<b> BURN IN MAIN TITLE: PURPLE RAIN
</b>
<b> PRINCE
</b> (con't)
So when you call up that
shrink in Beverly Hills,
You know the one -- Doctor
Everything'll Be Alright--
Instead of asking him how much
of your mind is left,
Ask him how much of your time,
`Cause in this life,
Things are much harder than in
the afterworld,
In this life, You're on your
own.
Now, pulsating COLOR -- FLASHES of hot,
white LIGHT...
<b> PRINCE
</b>
|
this
|
How many times does the word 'this' appear in the text?
| 2
|
ato Tasso," and his "Reinecke
Fuchs." To the period of his friendship with Schiller belong the
continuation of "Wilhelm Meister," the beautiful idyl of "Hermann
and Dorothea," and the "Roman Elegies." In the last period,
between Schiller's death in 1805 and his own, appeared "Faust,"
"Elective Affinities," his autobiographical "Dichtung und
Wahrheit" ("Poetry and Truth"), his "Italian Journey," much
scientific work, and a series of treatises on German Art.
Though the foregoing enumeration contains but a selection front
the titles of Goethe's best known writings, it suffices to show the
extraordinary fertility and versatility of his genius. Rarely has a
man of letters had so full and varied a life, or been capable of so
many-sided a development. His political and scientific activities,
though dwarfed in the eyes of our generation by his artistic
production, yet showed the adaptability of his talent in the most
diverse directions, and helped to give him that balance of temper
and breadth of vision in which he has been surpassed by no genius
of the ancient or modern world.
The greatest and most representative expression of Goethe's
powers is without doubt to be found in his drama of "Faust"; but
before dealing with Goethe's masterpiece, it is worth while to say
something of the history of the story on which it is founded--the
most famous instance of the old and widespread legend of the man
who sold his soul to the devil. The historical Dr. Faust seems to
have been a self-called philosopher who traveled about Germany
in the first half of the sixteenth century, making money by the
practise of magic, fortune-telling, and pretended cures. He died
mysteriously about 1540, and a legend soon sprang up that the
devil, by whose aid he wrought his wonders, had finally carried
him off. In 1587 a life of him appeared, in which are attributed to
him many marvelous exploits and in which he is held up as an
awful warning against the excessive desire for secular learning and
admiration for antique beauty which characterized the humanist
movement of the time. In this aspect the Faust legend is an
expression of early popular Protestantism, and of its antagonism to
the scientific and classical tendencies of the Renaissance.
While a succession of Faust books were appearing in Germany, the
original life was translated into English and dramatized by
Marlowe. English players brought Marlowe's work back to
Germany, where it was copied by German actors, degenerated into
spectacular farce, and finally into a puppet show. Through this
puppet show Goethe made acquaintance with the legend.
By the time that Goethe was twenty, the Faust legend had
fascinated his imagination; for three years before he went to
Weimar he had been working on scattered scenes and bits of
dialogue; and though he suspended actual composition on it during
three distinct periods, it was always to resume, and he closed his
labors upon it only with his life. Thus the period of time between
his first experiments and the final touches is more than sixty years.
During this period the plans for the structure and the signification
of the work inevitably underwent profound modifications, and
these have naturally affected the unity of the result; but, on the
other hand, this long companionship and persistent recurrence to
the task from youth to old age have made it in a unique way the
record of Goethe's personality in all its richness and diversity.
The drama was given to the public first as a fragment in 1790; then
the completed First Part appeared in 1808; and finally the Second
Part was published in 1833, the year after the author's death.
Writing in "Dichtung und Wahrheit" of the period about 1770,
when he was in Strasburg with. Herder, Goethe says, "The
significant puppet-play legend . . . echoed and buzzed in many
tones within me. I too had drifted about in all knowledge, and
early enough had been brought to feel the vanity of it. I too had
made all sorts of experiments in life, and had always come back
more unsatisfied and more tormented. I was now carrying these
things, like many others, about with me and delighting myself with
them in lonely hours, but without writing anything down." Without
going into the details of the
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 6
|
> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. NARITA AIRPORT - NIGHT
</b>
We hear the sound of a plane landing over black.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> INT. CHARLOTTE'S ROOM - NIGHT
</b>
The back of a GIRL in pink underwear, she leans at a big
window, looking out over Tokyo.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
Melodramatic music swells over the Girl's butt in pink sheer
underwear as she lies on the bed.
<b> TITLE CARDS OVER IMAGE.
</b>
<b> LOST IN TRANSLATION
</b>
<b> INT. CAR - NIGHT
</b>
POV from a car window - the colors and lights of Tokyo neon
at night blur by.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
In the backseat of a Presidential limousine, BOB (late-
forties), tired and depressed, leans against a little doily,
staring out the window.
P.O.V. from car window- We see buildings covered in bright
signs, a billboard of Brad Pitt selling jeans, another of
Bob in black & white,looking distinguished with a bottle of
whiskey in a Suntory ad... more signs, a huge TV with perky
Japanese pop stars singing.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> EXT. PARK HYATT - NIGHT
</b>
Bob's black Presidential (looks like a 60's diplomat's car)
pulls up at the entrance
|
over
|
How many times does the word 'over' appear in the text?
| 3
|
you are holding. There are some tell-
tale signs that are valuable; I am not going to tell you them because
it took me long enough to learn them, but these can only help a player,
not make one. So you want to play?
<b>DISSOLVE TO BLACK. THE FIRST OF THE CREDITS APPEAR ON THE SCREEN.
</b>
<b>FADE IN:
</b>
What have you got?
We cut to a beady pair of eyes and then to his cards as they are turned
over: three hearts of no consecutive numbers are exposed. That's a good
hand. A flush beats my pair. What about you?
* Cut from completed film.
Another pair of excited eyes widen to the question. We see more cards:
a run is revealed.
And here's me trying to explain the game to you. Hustlers, you're all
hustlers!
We cut to a shot of a small amount of money being scooped up. OK! You
got some real money?
<b>DISSOLVE TO BLACK: MORE CREDITS APPEAR ON THE SCREEN.
</b>
<b>FADE IN:
</b>
Ed scoops up a large pile of money.
Odds chaps, you gotta remember the odds.
There ? a loud slam of a door. We cut to a wide shot of a policeman
who has just entered. It is then revealed that two of the three players
are also policemen. They stand to attention, red faced with
embarrassment.
<b>SERG
</b>I hope I am not interrupting. Comfortable, Edward?
<b>EDDY
</b>I haven't slept for forty-eight hours, got a dozen broken ribs, can
feel a case of the flu coming on and . . .
<b>SERG
</b>(interrupts)
All right, all right, don't think I wouldn't like to get rid of you;
but before I do, I need to know what's going on, son.
<b>EDDY
</b>If you think you're in the dark, I am in a black hole, blindfolded.
<b>DISSOLVE TO BLACK. THE MUSIC STARTS.
</b>
We pull back out of the black to reveal that we have been sitting in
the inside of a shotgun. The barrels recede further, then `boom.' LOCK
STOCK are shot out of the top of the screen in peppered letters. We
wait for a while, as the barrels reappear through. the smoke. We then
see one smoking barrel; 'boom!' the other is let off: AND TWO SMOKING
BARRELS joins the sentence.]
<b>EXT. STREET (FLASHBACK] - DAY
</b>
We open on a smart, casually dressed man selling perfume and jewellery
on a street corner. A crowd has gathered, attracted by the alarming
volume at which he is advertising his wares.
<b>BACON
</b>See these goods, they never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite, Fanny-
by-the-gas-light. If you can't see value here today you're not up here
shopping, you're up here shoplifting. Take a bag, take a bag. I took a
bag, I took a bag home last night and she cost a lot more than ten
pounds I can tell ya. Tell me if I am going too cheap. Not ninety, not
eighty, not forty, half that and half that again, that's right, ten
pounds. Don't think 'cos it's sealed up it's an empty box. The only man
who sells empty boxes is the undertaker, and by the look of some of you
here today I would make more money with me measuring tape.
A well-dressed, zealous character (Eddy) appears from behind the crowd
waving money. It seems he can't wait to get rid of it.
<b>EDDY
</b>Bargain, that's a bloody bargain if I ever heard one. Ten pounds you
say? I'll have five.
|
bargain
|
How many times does the word 'bargain' appear in the text?
| 1
|
December 20, 2006
<b> MAP GRIDS
</b>
From the pages of a Thomas guide converge, overlap and re-
configure across the screen. The endlessly ironic names of
American suburbs parade before us, their violet territories
marching forward like a bruise into dark green patches of
forest and wilderness.
Closer in on one last map grid which fades into a
transparency of itself overlaid across the actual location of
the suburb. The name of this housing development is "Pleasant
Valley". The transparency fades out to reveal:
<b>1 1
</b><b> EXT. PLEASANT VALLEY BOULEVARD - EVENING
</b>
From a sign reading "Pleasant Valley Dream Homes", a picture
postcard boulevard of mini mansions curves into infinity.
Each home is brand new. Each has the same size lawn, the same
shrubs, the same satellite dish. Each has an
indistinguishable car parked in the driveway.
All the homes have Christmas decorations, Christmas trees
with baubles, lights and Christmas stars sitting proudly at
the top. The doors have Christmas wreaths.
The sheen of a recent rainfall makes all the surfaces glimmer
in the lights.
We halt outside one house.
<b>2 2
</b><b> EXT. DELLAS'S HOUSE - EVENING
</b>
This home too seems perfect until we notice the Christmas
star has fallen from the top of the tree and lies reflecting
itself in a puddle on the wet lawn.
Suddenly we hear the sound of wings fluttering and see an owl
among the branches of the Christmas tree. It rises from the
tree then swoops down to the lawn where it sweeps a mouse
from the grass. The owl then soars off, casting a magnified
shadow of her wings across the house, and disappears with
it's prey into the woods behind.
Curtains part at a downstairs window. The silhouette of a man
appears bathed in the blue glow of a computer screen. He
draws the curtains once again and disappears.
<b>3 3
</b><b> INT. DELLA'S HOUSE/ KENNETH'S MEDIA ROOM - EVENING
</b>
We sneak between curtain and window ledge into a home office
fitted out with a flat screen TV and a computer.
<b>
</b> Scene 3 Page 2
<b>
</b>
KENNETH, a forty something ex-jock with a once handsome face,
pours a beer into a crystal brandy glass. Kenneth's eyes are
|
christmas
|
How many times does the word 'christmas' appear in the text?
| 5
|
off a few
pieces of it, which didn't disturb the creature a bit. He found the
place I'd chipped, tried to see if there was any sign of healing, and
decided he could tell better in two or three thousand years. So we took
a few shots of it and sailed on.
"Mid afternoon we located the wreck of my rocket. Not a thing disturbed;
we picked up my films and tried to decide what next. I wanted to find
Tweel if possible; I figured from the fact of his pointing south that he
lived somewhere near Thyle. We plotted our route and judged that the
desert we were in now was Thyle II; Thyle I should be east of us. So, on
a hunch, we decided to have a look at Thyle I, and away we buzzed."
"_Der_ motors?" queried Putz, breaking his long silence.
"For a wonder, we had no trouble, Karl. Your blast worked perfectly. So
we hummed along, pretty high to get a wider view, I'd say about fifty
thousand feet. Thyle II spread out like an orange carpet, and after a
while we came to the grey branch of the Mare Chronium that bounded it.
That was narrow; we crossed it in half an hour, and there was Thyle
I--same orange-hued desert as its mate. We veered south, toward the Mare
Australe, and followed the edge of the desert. And toward sunset we
spotted it."
"Shpotted?" echoed Putz. "Vot vas shpotted?"
"The desert was spotted--with buildings! Not one of the mud cities of
the canals, although a canal went through it. From the map we figured
the canal was a continuation of the one Schiaparelli called Ascanius.
"We were probably too high to be visible to any inhabitants of the city,
but also too high for a good look at it, even with the glasses. However,
it was nearly sunset, anyway, so we didn't plan on dropping in. We
circled the place; the canal went out into the Mare Australe, and there,
glittering in the south, was the melting polar ice-cap! The canal
drained it; we could distinguish the sparkle of water in it. Off to the
southeast, just at the edge of the Mare Australe, was a valley--the
first irregularity I'd seen on Mars except the cliffs that bounded
Xanthus and Thyle II. We flew over the valley--" Jarvis paused suddenly
and shuddered; Leroy, whose color had begun to return, seemed to pale.
The chemist resumed, "Well, the valley looked all right--then! Just a
gray waste, probably full of crawlers like the others.
"We circled back over the city; say, I want to tell you that place
was--well, gigantic! It was colossal; at first I thought the size was
due to that illusion I spoke of--you know, the nearness of the
horizon--but it wasn't that. We sailed right over it, and you've never
seen anything like it!
"But the sun dropped out of sight right then. I knew we were pretty far
south--latitude 60--but I didn't know just how much night we'd have."
Harrison glanced at a Schiaparelli chart. "About 60--eh?" he said.
"Close to what corresponds to the Antarctic circle. You'd have about
four hours of night at this season. Three months from now you'd have
none at all."
"Three months!" echoed Jarvis, surprised. Then he grinned. "Right! I
forget the seasons here are twice as long as ours. Well, we sailed out
into the desert about twenty miles, which put the city below the horizon
in case we overslept, and there we spent the night.
"You're right about the length of it. We had about four hours of
darkness which left us fairly rested. We ate breakfast, called our
location to you, and started over to have a look at the city.
"We sailed toward it from the east and it loomed up ahead of us like a
range of mountains. Lord, what a city! Not that New York mightn't have
higher buildings, or Chicago cover more ground, but for sheer mass,
those structures were in a class by themselves.
|
thyle
|
How many times does the word 'thyle' appear in the text?
| 6
|
was grinning.
"Nothin' particular," he answered, softly. "'Cept that maybe Bill Jones
ain't called Lightnin' for nothin'."
"Bill," said his wife, "this ain't no time for to be smart! If you have
anything to say, I wish to goodness you'd say it!"
Bill half opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Millie ain't goin' back
to that tailor-made lawyer's office," he said.
"Daddy, please!" said Millie, flushing.
"You mustn't make fun of Mr. Thomas when--"
"All right, Millie," he stopped her, resting his thin hand on her brown
hair for an instant. "I wouldn't say nothin' as would hurt you. But you
won't have to go back, my dear--not unless you really want to leave us.
I got an idea, mother--that's why I was late gettin' home. Ideas take
time, 'specially when they're good ones! I got a good one what'll fix
this whole business!"
Bill stuck his thumbs in his faded old shirt comically. Even slumped
down in his chair as he was, the suggestion of a harmless swagger was in
his manner--the easy swagger of one who, hitherto unconsidered, has
astonished the skeptics by giving birth to an idea and solving a
problem. There was something about Bill that suppressed the gentle but
none the less amused smile that was dimpling Millie's cheeks.
"Out with it, daddy!" she demanded, restraining a desire to pull his
ear.
"If Lem Townsend is so anxious to help us," he stated, "he can arrange
all the details for you, mother. I 'ain't got time for details--that's
what I told Grant once, when we was havin' supper before Petersburg. Got
enough to do with the idea. Lem can put the ads. in them Reno papers,
an' hire the maids for you, an' things like that." Then Bill suddenly
stopped, hugely enjoying the mystification of his two listeners.
His wife sat up. "Bill Jones," she said, "you been drinking again down
to town, that's what I think!"
"Go on, daddy!" Millie encouraged, putting her hand on his arm. "I feel
that you've thought of something! Tell us!"
Ignoring his wife's accusation, Bill gave Millie a grateful glance and
resumed, in his slow drawl:
"I got an idea--sure enough, mother an' Millie! It didn't hit me until I
was half-way home to-day, but I got it lookin' at the mornin' train what
goes on through to Reno. I've looked at a pile o' trains in my time, but
I never got no idea from 'em before. Look here, don't the state line run
plumb through the middle o' this house, so's half of it is in California
an' the other half in Nevada? Well, what's the matter with makin' this
house a hotel temporary for busted hearts what takes six months to cure?
Lots o' them rich folks from the East who goes on down to Reno to git
divorced would like to live on the lake, but they can't because they got
to live in Nevada for six months. They can live on one side o' this
house an' be in Nevada. An' at the same time they gits all the good o'
livin' in California! They'd be tickled to death an' they'd be comin' in
shoals all year, winter an' summer. An' what they pays ain't nothin' to
them--the Reno hotels is so rich off them they don't want to take in no
one what 'ain't a busted heart! You better start right away gettin'
ready, mother!"
Mrs. Jones and Millie gasped. Bill, however, having spoken at
considerable length for him, merely reached for his eternal bag of
tobacco and paper and idly rolled himself a cigarette.
Millie clapped her hands. "Why, mother!" she cried, "daddy's right--it
is an idea! And so simple!"
"All big things is simple," Bill remarked, with the air of one who ought
to know.
Mrs. Jones stared from her husband to Millie
|
they
|
How many times does the word 'they' appear in the text?
| 8
|
murmur: "The four great alluvial plains of Asia--those of China and of
the Amoo Daria in temperate regions; of the Euphrates and Tigris in the
warm temperate; of the Indus and Ganges under the Tropic--with the Nile
valley in Africa, were the theatres of the most ancient civilizations
known to history or tradition----"
As she ended, a sigh escaped her, for the instruction of the young was
for her a matter not of choice, but of necessity. With the majority of
maiden ladies left destitute in Dinwiddie after the war, she had turned
naturally to teaching as the only nice and respectable occupation which
required neither preparation of mind nor considerable outlay of money.
The fact that she was the single surviving child of a gallant
Confederate general, who, having distinguished himself and his
descendants, fell at last in the Battle of Gettysburg, was sufficient
recommendation of her abilities in the eyes of her fellow citizens. Had
she chosen to paint portraits or to write poems, they would have rallied
quite as loyally to her support. Few, indeed, were the girls born in
Dinwiddie since the war who had not learned reading, penmanship ("up to
the right, down to the left, my dear"), geography, history, arithmetic,
deportment, and the fine arts, in the Academy for Young Ladies. The
brilliant military record of the General still shed a legendary lustre
upon the school, and it was earnestly believed that no girl, after
leaving there with a diploma for good conduct, could possibly go wrong
or become eccentric in her later years. To be sure, she might remain a
trifle weak in her spelling (Miss Priscilla having, as she confessed, a
poor head for that branch of study), but, after all, as the rector had
once remarked, good spelling was by no means a necessary accomplishment
for a lady; and, for the rest, it was certain that the moral education
of a pupil of the Academy would be firmly rooted in such fundamental
verities as the superiority of man and the aristocratic supremacy of the
Episcopal Church. From charming Sally Goode, now married to Tom
Peachey, known familiarly as "honest Tom," the editor of the Dinwiddie
_Bee_, to lovely Virginia Pendleton, the mark of Miss Priscilla was
ineffaceably impressed upon the daughters of the leading families.
Remembering this now, as she was disposed to do whenever she was
knitting without company, Miss Priscilla dropped her long wooden needles
in her lap, and leaning forward in her chair, gazed out upon the town
with an expression of child-like confidence, of touching innocence. This
innocence, which belonged to the very essence of her soul, had survived
both the fugitive joys and the brutal disillusionments of life.
Experience could not shatter it, for it was the product of a courage
that feared nothing except opinions. Just as the town had battled for a
principle without understanding it, so she was capable of dying for an
idea, but not of conceiving one. She had suffered everything from the
war except the necessity of thinking independently about it, and, though
in later years memory had become so sacred to her that she rarely
indulged in it, she still clung passionately to the habits of her
ancestors under the impression that she was clinging to their ideals.
Little things filled her days--the trivial details of the classroom and
of the market, the small domestic disturbances of her neighbours, the
moral or mental delinquencies of her two coloured servants--and even her
religious veneration for the Episcopal Church had crystallized at last
into a worship of customs.
To-day, at the beginning of the industrial awakening of the South, she
(who was but the embodied spirit of her race) stood firmly rooted in all
that was static, in all that was obsolete and outgrown in the Virginia
of the eighties. Though she felt as yet merely the vague uneasiness with
which her mind recoiled from the first stirrings of change, she was
beginning dimly to realize that the car of progress would move through
the quiet streets before the decade was over. The smoke of factories was
already succeeding the smoke of the battlefields, and out of the ashes
of a vanquished idealism the spirit of commercial materialism was born.
What was left of the old was fighting valiantly,
|
firmly
|
How many times does the word 'firmly' appear in the text?
| 1
|
and a revelation. All the accouterments of former expeditions of
whatever sort, all that he had bought for this one, all that I had
shipped from week to week, were gathered there. There were wading boots
and camp boots and moccasins and Dutch bed-slippers and shoepacks--the
last-named a sort of Micmac Indian cross between a shoe and a moccasin,
much affected by guides, who keep them saturated with oil and wear them
in the water and out--there were nets of various sizes and sorts, from
large minnow nets through a line of landing nets to some silk head nets,
invented and made by Eddie himself, one for each of us, to pull on day
or night when the insect pests were bad. There was a quantity of
self-prepared ointment, too, for the same purpose, while of sovereign
remedies, balms and anodynes for ills and misfortunes, Eddie's
collection was as the sands of the sea. Soothing lotions there were for
wounds new and old; easing draughts for pains internal and external;
magic salves such as were used by the knights of old romance, Amadis de
Gaul and others, for the instant cure of ghastly lacerations made by man
or beast, and a large fresh bottle of a collodion preparation with
which the victim could be painted locally or in general, and stand forth
at last, good as new--restored, body, bones and skin. In addition there
was a certain bottle of the fluid extract of gelsemium, or something
like that, which was recommended for anything that the rest of the
assortment could do, combined. It was said to be good for everything
from a sore throat to a snake bite--the list of its benefits being
recorded in a text-book by which Eddie set great store.
"Take it, by all means, Eddie," I said, "then you won't need any of the
others."
That settled it. The gelsemium was left behind.
I was interested in Eddie's rods, leaning here and there on various
parcels about the room. I found that the new noibwood, such as I had
ordered, was only a unit in a very respectable aggregate--rather an
unimportant unit it appeared by this time, for Eddie calmly assured me
that the tip had remained set after landing a rather small trout in a
nearby stream and that he did not consider the wood altogether suitable
for trout rods. Whereupon I was moved to confess the little bamboo stick
I had bought in Boston, and produced it for inspection. I could see that
Eddie bristled a bit as I uncased it and I think viewed it and wiggled
it with rather small respect. Still, he did not condemn it utterly and I
had an impulse to confess the other things, the impossible little
scale-wing flies, the tin whistle and the Jock Scott with two hooks.
However, it did not seem just the psychological moment, and I refrained.
As for Eddie's flies, viewed together, they were a dazzling lot. There
were books and books of them--American, English, Scotch and what not.
There was one book of English dry-flies, procured during a recent
sojourn abroad, to be tried in American waters. One does not dance and
jiggle a dry-fly to give it the appearance of life--of some unusual
creature with rainbow wings and the ability to wriggle upstream, even
against a swift current. The dry-fly is built to resemble life itself,
color, shape and all, and is cast on a slow-moving stream where a trout
is seen to rise, and allowed to drift with the gently flowing current
exactly over the magic spot. All this Eddie explained to me and let me
hold the book a little time, though I could see he did not intend to let
me use one of the precious things, and would prefer that I did not touch
them.
He was packing now and I wandered idly about this uncatalogued museum of
sporting goods. There was a heap of canvas and blankets in one corner--a
sleeping bag, it proved, with an infinite number of compartments, or
layers; there were hats of many shapes, vests of many fabrics, coats of
many colors. There were things I had seen before only in sporting goods
windows; there were things I had
|
english
|
How many times does the word 'english' appear in the text?
| 1
|
worst, "what sort of a
girl is this girl of Gussie's?"
"I have not met the young lady, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle speaks highly of her
attractions."
"Seemed to like her, did he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he mention her name? Perhaps I know her."
"She is a Miss Bassett, sir. Miss Madeline Bassett."
"What?"
"Yes, sir."
I was deeply intrigued.
"Egad, Jeeves! Fancy that. It's a small world, isn't it, what?"
"The young lady is an acquaintance of yours, sir?"
"I know her well. Your news has relieved my mind, Jeeves. It makes the
whole thing begin to seem far more like a practical working proposition."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Absolutely. I confess that until you supplied this information I was
feeling profoundly dubious about poor old Gussie's chances of inducing
any spinster of any parish to join him in the saunter down the aisle. You
will agree with me that he is not everybody's money."
"There may be something in what you say, sir."
"Cleopatra wouldn't have liked him."
"Possibly not, sir."
"And I doubt if he would go any too well with Tallulah Bankhead."
"No, sir."
"But when you tell me that the object of his affections is Miss Bassett,
why, then, Jeeves, hope begins to dawn a bit. He's just the sort of chap
a girl like Madeline Bassett might scoop in with relish."
This Bassett, I must explain, had been a fellow visitor of ours at
Cannes; and as she and Angela had struck up one of those effervescent
friendships which girls do strike up, I had seen quite a bit of her.
Indeed, in my moodier moments it sometimes seemed to me that I could not
move a step without stubbing my toe on the woman.
And what made it all so painful and distressing was that the more we met,
the less did I seem able to find to say to her.
You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right
out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality
that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to
cauliflower. It was like that with this Bassett and me; so much so that I
have known occasions when for minutes at a stretch Bertram Wooster might
have been observed fumbling with the tie, shuffling the feet, and
behaving in all other respects in her presence like the complete dumb
brick. When, therefore, she took her departure some two weeks before we
did, you may readily imagine that, in Bertram's opinion, it was not a day
too soon.
It was not her beauty, mark you, that thus numbed me. She was a pretty
enough girl in a droopy, blonde, saucer-eyed way, but not the sort of
breath-taker that takes the breath.
No, what caused this disintegration in a usually fairly fluent prattler
with the sex was her whole mental attitude. I don't want to wrong
anybody, so I won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry,
but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excite
the liveliest suspicions. Well, I mean to say, when a girl suddenly asks
you out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars are
God's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit.
As regards the fusing of her soul and mine, therefore, there was nothing
doing. But with Gussie, the posish was entirely different. The thing that
had stymied me--viz. that this girl was obviously all loaded down with
ideals and sentiment and what not--was quite in order as far as he was
concerned.
Gussie had always been one of those dreamy, soulful birds--you can't shut
yourself up in the country and live only for newts, if you're not--and I
could see no reason why, if he could somehow be induced to get the low,
burning words off his chest, he and the Bassett shouldn't hit
|
there
|
How many times does the word 'there' appear in the text?
| 2
|
who wished to give no occasion of offence to his mother's only
sister, was in the habit of taking his wife and sister down there every
spring for a short stay at one of the hotels, thus forming among
themselves a pleasant and independent little party, which was usually
joined by Colonel Fitzwilliam. This year Lady Catherine, having been
there for some weeks previously, had been collecting round her a circle
of acquaintances, some more and some less likely to be congenial to the
relatives whose visit was pending.
"Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy to his wife, as they stood together in Lady
Catherine's drawing-room at a large reception which she was giving in
their honour, two days after their arrival, "I think I see General
Tilney over there; and, unless my memory is failing me, surely this is
his daughter coming towards us, whom we made friends with last year."
"Why, so it is; what a delightful surprise!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Dear
Lady Portinscale, how glad I am to see you again! Do not say you have
forgotten me, or I shall find it hard to forgive you!"
"No, indeed, Mrs. Darcy, I was coming to introduce myself, in fear that
you might have forgotten me. How do you do, Mr. Darcy? Lady Catherine
told me that she was expecting the whole party from Pemberley this
week."
"Yes, we have come to put in our period of attendance, as you see," said
Elizabeth, "but I never dreamed of anything so pleasant as meeting you
again, after what you said last year."
"The truth is that my father has not been at all well, and as he felt
himself obliged to come here for a short time, he begged us to join him
for two or three weeks."
"Your husband is here this evening?"
"Yes, he is in the next room; I see him talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"And are your brother and his pretty wife in Bath this spring? I
remember her so well."
"No, they are at home; but we have a brother of hers staying with
us--James Morland. He has a curacy in a very unhealthy part of the
Thames Valley, and he has been extremely ill with a low fever, so we
have brought him here for a fortnight in the hope that it will do him
good."
"How very kind of you to take care of him! He is fortunate to have such
friends."
"Oh, no, it is a very small thing; and he is such an excellent young
fellow--sensible and agreeable, and so hard-working! My husband has the
highest opinion of him; and were he less amiable, it would be a pleasure
to be of service to anyone connected with Catherine."
"You oblige me to repeat that anyone who has you for his or her advocate
is indeed fortunate, Lady Portinscale," answered Elizabeth, smiling;
"but now that you know your character, pray perform the same kind office
for some of the people here. They are nearly all strangers to me, and
if my husband were not listening, I should say that I wonder how my aunt
manages to pick them up."
"Lady Portinscale will soon gauge your character, Elizabeth, if you make
such terribly outspoken comments," said Darcy, smiling. "You must not
mind her, Lady Portinscale; my aunt's presence has a demoralizing effect
upon my wife. It is a very sad thing, but I have often remarked it."
"Not her presence in the ordinary way," said Elizabeth; "but to-day we
have been through such a stormy scene together, that I may be excused
for feeling that my aunt and I must go diametrically opposite ways for
the rest of our lives."
"Really?" said Eleanor Portinscale, with the faintest suspicion of
laughter in her eyes. "Poor Lady Catherine! I recollect last year that
you and your sister-in-law were continually brewing some kind of
rebellious mischief against her."
"That is just the cause of the trouble now," responded Elizabeth. "My
sister-in-law became engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam last November; but I
saw that they were both so extremely unhappy in their engagement that I
was instrumental in breaking it off, and this happened only last week;
so that is why Robert Fitzwilliam is looking
|
after
|
How many times does the word 'after' appear in the text?
| 1
|
was grinning.
"Nothin' particular," he answered, softly. "'Cept that maybe Bill Jones
ain't called Lightnin' for nothin'."
"Bill," said his wife, "this ain't no time for to be smart! If you have
anything to say, I wish to goodness you'd say it!"
Bill half opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Millie ain't goin' back
to that tailor-made lawyer's office," he said.
"Daddy, please!" said Millie, flushing.
"You mustn't make fun of Mr. Thomas when--"
"All right, Millie," he stopped her, resting his thin hand on her brown
hair for an instant. "I wouldn't say nothin' as would hurt you. But you
won't have to go back, my dear--not unless you really want to leave us.
I got an idea, mother--that's why I was late gettin' home. Ideas take
time, 'specially when they're good ones! I got a good one what'll fix
this whole business!"
Bill stuck his thumbs in his faded old shirt comically. Even slumped
down in his chair as he was, the suggestion of a harmless swagger was in
his manner--the easy swagger of one who, hitherto unconsidered, has
astonished the skeptics by giving birth to an idea and solving a
problem. There was something about Bill that suppressed the gentle but
none the less amused smile that was dimpling Millie's cheeks.
"Out with it, daddy!" she demanded, restraining a desire to pull his
ear.
"If Lem Townsend is so anxious to help us," he stated, "he can arrange
all the details for you, mother. I 'ain't got time for details--that's
what I told Grant once, when we was havin' supper before Petersburg. Got
enough to do with the idea. Lem can put the ads. in them Reno papers,
an' hire the maids for you, an' things like that." Then Bill suddenly
stopped, hugely enjoying the mystification of his two listeners.
His wife sat up. "Bill Jones," she said, "you been drinking again down
to town, that's what I think!"
"Go on, daddy!" Millie encouraged, putting her hand on his arm. "I feel
that you've thought of something! Tell us!"
Ignoring his wife's accusation, Bill gave Millie a grateful glance and
resumed, in his slow drawl:
"I got an idea--sure enough, mother an' Millie! It didn't hit me until I
was half-way home to-day, but I got it lookin' at the mornin' train what
goes on through to Reno. I've looked at a pile o' trains in my time, but
I never got no idea from 'em before. Look here, don't the state line run
plumb through the middle o' this house, so's half of it is in California
an' the other half in Nevada? Well, what's the matter with makin' this
house a hotel temporary for busted hearts what takes six months to cure?
Lots o' them rich folks from the East who goes on down to Reno to git
divorced would like to live on the lake, but they can't because they got
to live in Nevada for six months. They can live on one side o' this
house an' be in Nevada. An' at the same time they gits all the good o'
livin' in California! They'd be tickled to death an' they'd be comin' in
shoals all year, winter an' summer. An' what they pays ain't nothin' to
them--the Reno hotels is so rich off them they don't want to take in no
one what 'ain't a busted heart! You better start right away gettin'
ready, mother!"
Mrs. Jones and Millie gasped. Bill, however, having spoken at
considerable length for him, merely reached for his eternal bag of
tobacco and paper and idly rolled himself a cigarette.
Millie clapped her hands. "Why, mother!" she cried, "daddy's right--it
is an idea! And so simple!"
"All big things is simple," Bill remarked, with the air of one who ought
to know.
Mrs. Jones stared from her husband to Millie
|
please
|
How many times does the word 'please' appear in the text?
| 0
|
. DAY.
</b>
A college counselor stands at the Podium lecturing the high
school seniors about their future.
<b> COLLEGE COUNSELOR
</b> ... For those of you going on to college
next year, the chance of finding a good
job will actually decrease by the time
you graduate. Entry level jobs will drop
from thirty-one to twenty-six percent,
and the median income for those jobs
will go down as well ...
There is some rustling in the audience.
<b> COLLEGE COUNSELOR (CONT)
</b> Obviously, my friends, it's a
competitive world and good grades are
your only ticket through. By the year
Two Thousand ...
<b> INT. HIGH SCHOOL. HEALTH CLASS.
</b>
A different teacher lectures a different class of students.
<b> HEALTH TEACHER
</b> ... The chance of contracting HIV from a
promiscuous lifestyle will climb to one
in one hundred and fifty. The odds of
dying in an auto accident are only one
in twenty-five hundred.
(beat)
Now this marks a drastic increase ...
<b> INT. HIGH SCHOOL. SCIENCE CLASS.
</b>
Same angle. Different teacher.
<b> SCIENCE TEACHER
</b> ... From just four years ago when ozone
depletion was at ten percent of its
current level. By the time you are
twenty years old, average global
temperature will have risen two and a
half degrees. Even a shift of one
degree can cause such catastrophic
consequences as typhoons, floods,
widespread drought and famine.
<b> REVERSE ANGLE. STUDENTS.
</b>
They stare back in stunned silence. One of them, DAVID
WAGNER, sits in the front row with a pencil in his mouth.
Nobody moves ...
<b> SCIENCE TEACHER
</b> (chipper classroom tone)
Okay. Who can tell me what famine is?
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> 1958.
</b>
Birds are chirping. The sun is shining. All the hedges are
neatly pruned and the lawns are perfectly manicured. A sweet
stillness hangs over the SUBURBAN STREET, which is bathed in
beautiful BLACK AND WHITE.
<b> MAN'S VOICE (OS)
</b> Honey, I'm home.
<b> SUBURBAN HOME.
</b>
GEORGE PARKER enters the front door and hangs his hat on the
coatrack. He sets his briefcase down and moves into the foyer
with a huge smile on his face. It's a frozen smile that
doesn't seem to be affected by too much in particular--like a
tour guide at Disneyland.
<b> WOMAN'S VOICE (OS)
</b> Hello darling.
<b> WIDER.
</b>
MRS. GEORGE PARKER (BETTY) enters, untying the back of her
apron. She is a vision of '50s beauty with a thin figure and
concrete hair. Betty crosses to her husband and hands him a
fresh martini. She kisses him on the cheek.
<b> BETTY
</b> How was your day?
<b> GEORGE
</b> Oh, swell. You know, Mr. Connel said
that if things keep going the way they
are, I might be seeing that promotion
sooner than I thought.
<b> BETTY
</b
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 2
|
the Cloomber avenue. A tall dog-cart stood in front of the
gateway, the horse browsing upon the thin border of grass which skirted
the road.
"It's a' richt!" said Jamieson, taking a close look at the deserted
vehicle. "I ken it weel. It belongs tae Maister McNeil, the factor body
frae Wigtown--him wha keeps the keys."
"Then we may as well have speech with him now that we are here," I
answered. "They are coming down, if I am not mistaken."
As I spoke we heard the slam of the heavy door and within a few minutes
two figures, the one tall and angular, the other short and thick came
towards us through the darkness. They were talking so earnestly that
they did not observe us until they had passed through the avenue gate.
"Good evening, Mr. McNeil," said I, stepping forward and addressing the
Wigtown factor, with whom I had some slight acquaintance.
The smaller of the two turned his face towards me as I spoke, and showed
me that I was not mistaken in his identity, but his taller companion
sprang back and showed every sign of violent agitation.
"What is this, McNeil?" I heard him say, in a gasping, choking voice.
"Is this your promise? What is the meaning of it?"
"Don't be alarmed, General! Don't be alarmed!" said the little fat
factor in a soothing fashion, as one might speak to a frightened child.
"This is young Mr. Fothergill West, of Branksome, though what brings him
up here tonight is more than I can understand. However, as you are to be
neighbours, I can't do better than take the opportunity to introduce you
to each other. Mr. West, this is General Heatherstone, who is about to
take a lease of Cloomber Hall."
I held out my hand to the tall man, who took it in a hesitating,
half-reluctant fashion.
"I came up," I explained, "because I saw your lights in the windows, and
I thought that something might be wrong. I am very glad I did so, since
it has given me the chance of making the general's acquaintance."
Whilst I was talking, I was conscious that the new tenant of Cloomber
Hall was peering at me very closely through the darkness. As I
concluded, he stretched out a long, tremulous arm, and turned the
gig-lamp in such a way as to throw a flood of light upon my face.
"Good Heavens, McNeil!" he cried, in the same quivering voice as before,
"the fellow's as brown as chocolate. He's not an Englishman. You're not
an Englishman--you, sir?"
"I'm a Scotchman, born and bred," said I, with an inclination to laugh,
which was only checked by my new acquaintance's obvious terror.
"A Scotchman, eh?" said he, with a sigh of relief. "It's all one
nowadays. You must excuse me, Mr.--Mr. West. I'm nervous, infernally
nervous. Come along, McNeil, we must be back in Wigtown in less than an
hour. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night!"
The two clambered into their places; the factor cracked his whip,
and the high dog-cart clattered away through the darkness, casting a
brilliant tunnel of yellow light on either side of it, until the rumble
of its wheels died away in the distance.
"What do you think of our new neighbour, Jamieson?" I asked, after a
long silence.
"'Deed, Mr. West, he seems, as he says himsel', to be vera nervous.
Maybe his conscience is oot o' order."
"His liver, more likely," said I. "He looks as if he had tried his
constitution a bit. But it's blowing chill, Seth, my lad, and it's time
both of us were indoors."
I bade my companion good-night, and struck off across the moors for the
cheery, ruddy light which marked the parlour windows of Branksome.
CHAPTER III. OF OUR FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE
|
turned
|
How many times does the word 'turned' appear in the text?
| 1
|
of the copyrighted work;
(3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the
copyrighted work as a whole; and
(4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the
copyrighted work.
The fact that a work is unpublished shall not itself bar a finding of
fair use if such finding is made upon consideration of all the above
factors.
*2. Excerpts From House Report on Section 107*
=====================================================================
The following excerpts are reprinted from the House Report on the new
copyright law (H.R. Rep. No. 94-1476, pages 65-74). The discussion
of section 107 appears at pages 61-67 of the Senate Report (S. Rep.
No. 94-473). The text of this section of the Senate Report is not
reprinted in this booklet, but similarities and differences between
the House and Senate Reports on particular points will be noted
below.
=====================================================================
*a. House Report: Introductory Discussion on Section 107*
=====================================================================
The first two paragraphs in this portion of the House Report are
closely similar to the Senate Report. The remainder of the passage
differs substantially in the two Reports.**
=====================================================================
SECTION 107. FAIR USE
*General background of the problem*
The judicial doctrine of fair use, one of the most important and
well-established limitations on the exclusive right of copyright owners,
would be given express statutory recognition for the first time in
section 107. The claim that a defendant's acts constituted a fair use
rather than an infringement has been raised as a defense in innumerable
copyright actions over the years, and there is ample case law
recognizing the existence of the doctrine and applying it. The examples
enumerated at page 24 of the Register's 1961 Report, while by no means
exhaustive, give some idea of the sort of activities the courts might
regard as fair use under the circumstances: "quotation of excerpts in a
review or criticism for purposes of illustration or comment; quotation
of short passages in a scholarly or technical work, for illustration or
clarification of the author's observations; use in a parody of some of
the content of the work parodied; summary of an address or article, with
brief quotations, in a news report; reproduction by a library of a
portion of a work to replace part of a damaged copy; reproduction by a
teacher or student of a small part of a work to illustrate a lesson;
reproduction of a work in legislative or judicial proceedings or
reports; incidental and fortuitous reproduction, in a newsreel or
broadcast, of a work located in the scene of an event being reported."
Although the courts have considered and ruled upon the fair use doctrine
over and over again, no real definition of the concept has ever emerged.
Indeed, since the doctrine is an equitable rule of reason, no generally
applicable definition is possible, and each case raising the question
must be decided on its own facts. On the other hand, the courts have
evolved a set of criteria which, though in no case definitive or
determinative, provide some gauge for balancing the equities. These
criteria have been stated in various ways, but essentially they can all
be reduced to the four standards which have been adopted in section 107:
"(1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is
of a commercial nature or is for non-profit educational purposes; (2)
the nature of the copyrighted work; (3) the amount and substantiality of
the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and
(4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the
copyrighted work."
These criteria are relevant in determining whether the basic doctrine of
fair use, as stated in the first sentence of section 107, applies in a
particular case: "Notwithstanding the provisions of section 106, the
fair use of a copyrighted work, including such use by reproduction in
copies or phonorecords or by any other means specified by that section,
for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching
(including multiple copies for classroom use), scholarship, or research,
is not an infringement of copyright."
The specific wording of section 107 as it now stands is the result of a
process of accretion, resulting from the long
|
including
|
How many times does the word 'including' appear in the text?
| 2
|
he concluded. "Fatty's gone."
"An' he went like greased lightnin' once he got started. Couldn't 've
seen 'm for smoke."
"No chance at all," Henry concluded. "They jes' swallowed 'm alive. I
bet he was yelpin' as he went down their throats, damn 'em!"
"He always was a fool dog," said Bill.
"But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an' commit suicide
that way." He looked over the remainder of the team with a speculative
eye that summed up instantly the salient traits of each animal. "I bet
none of the others would do it."
"Couldn't drive 'em away from the fire with a club," Bill agreed. "I
always did think there was somethin' wrong with Fatty anyway."
And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail--less scant
than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man.
CHAPTER II--THE SHE-WOLF
Breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the men
turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the darkness.
At once began to rise the cries that were fiercely sad--cries that called
through the darkness and cold to one another and answered back.
Conversation ceased. Daylight came at nine o'clock. At midday the sky
to the south warmed to rose-colour, and marked where the bulge of the
earth intervened between the meridian sun and the northern world. But
the rose-colour swiftly faded. The grey light of day that remained
lasted until three o'clock, when it, too, faded, and the pall of the
Arctic night descended upon the lone and silent land.
As darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear drew
closer--so close that more than once they sent surges of fear through the
toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics.
At the conclusion of one such panic, when he and Henry had got the dogs
back in the traces, Bill said:
"I wisht they'd strike game somewheres, an' go away an' leave us alone."
"They do get on the nerves horrible," Henry sympathised.
They spoke no more until camp was made.
Henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans when
he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from Bill, and a
sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. He straightened up in
time to see a dim form disappearing across the snow into the shelter of
the dark. Then he saw Bill, standing amid the dogs, half triumphant,
half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in the other the tail and
part of the body of a sun-cured salmon.
"It got half of it," he announced; "but I got a whack at it jes' the
same. D'ye hear it squeal?"
"What'd it look like?" Henry asked.
"Couldn't see. But it had four legs an' a mouth an' hair an' looked like
any dog."
"Must be a tame wolf, I reckon."
"It's damned tame, whatever it is, comin' in here at feedin' time an'
gettin' its whack of fish."
That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box and
pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even closer
than before.
"I wisht they'd spring up a bunch of moose or something, an' go away an'
leave us alone," Bill said.
Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for a
quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the fire, and
Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond the
firelight.
"I wisht we was pullin' into McGurry right now," he began again.
"Shut up your wishin' and your croakin'," Henry burst out angrily. "Your
stomach's sour. That's what's ailin' you. Swallow a spoonful of sody,
an' you
|
concluded
|
How many times does the word 'concluded' appear in the text?
| 1
|
A romantic turn-off used exclusively for parking. A river gushes by.
Crickets chirp. The trees blow in the autumn wind. A single car sits on
the lonely road. The muffled sound of a young couple making out drifts
through the streamed up windows.
<b>INT. CAR
</b>
A teenage boy's hand is under a teenage girl's shirt, gently massaging her
breast. He pulls his hand out from under her shirt and places it on her
bare knee.
As he starts to slide his hand up her leg, she grabs his hand and gently
pulls it away. She places it back on her breast, sliding it under her
shirt.
We pull back. STACY and ROD, two healthy sixteen year olds, are
passionately making out in the proverbial back seat of a big American car.
Rod smiles seductively, kisses Stacy, and places his hand back on her
knee. Once again, she stops him, this time just squeezing his hand
tightly.
<b> STACY
</b> No.
He doesn't give up easy. He playfully wrestles his hand free and slides it
under her skirt. She grabs his hand again.
<b> STACY
</b> I said no.
<b> ROD
</b> But you don't really
mean it.
He struggles to free his hand.
<b> STACY
</b> Yes I do. Keep it in your
pants Rod.
He gives up, aggravated.
<b> ROD
</b> Maybe it won't stay in.
<b>
</b><b> STACY
</b> Maybe you better just
drive me home.
He starts the car, glares at her for a second, then turns it off.
<b> ROD
</b> Let me just ask you a serious
question first.
<b> STACY
</b> What?
<b> ROD
</b> Aren't you worried you
could die a virgin?
<b> STACY
</b> (sarcastically)
Yeah. I'm extremely worried
about that. It's right up
there with global warming.
<b>
|
under
|
How many times does the word 'under' appear in the text?
| 3
|
September 30, 2007
<b> EXT. BEL AIR BAY CLUB -- PACIFIC PALISADES, CA -- MORNING
</b>
It's a beautiful spring morning in the Palisades. High atop
the cliffs, looking out over the Pacific Ocean, sits the
exclusive BEL AIR BAY CLUB. Workers bustle about the lawn,
setting up a high-end wedding.
A STRING QUARTET warms up. A team of FLORISTS arrange
centerpieces. CATERERS set the white linen tables...
<b> INT. BRIDAL SUITE -- DAY
</b>
A simple, classic wedding dress hangs on a closet door in
this sun-drenched bridal suite. Sitting at the makeup table,
surrounded by her bridesmaids, is the beautiful bride, TRACY
TURNER, 20's. She's busy doing her makeup.
Just then, Tracy's rich, stern FATHER, 50's, blows in.
<b> MR. TURNER
</b> Any word from Doug?
The way he spits out "Doug" tells us all we need to know
about how Mr. Turner feels about his future son-in-law.
<b> TRACY
</b> No, but I'm sure he's--
Just then, Tracy's CELLPHONE rings. She quickly answers it.
<b> TRACY (CONT'D)
</b> Hello?
<b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b>
<b> EXT. MOJAVE DESERT -- MORNING
</b>
Heat-waves rise off the Mojave. Standing at a lone, dust-
covered payphone in the middle of the desert is
<b> VICK LENNON
</b> He's in his late 20's, tall, rugged -- and currently a mess.
His shirt is ripped open, his aviator sunglasses are bent,
his lip is bloodied, and he clearly hasn't slept in days.
<b> VICK
</b> Tracy, it's Vick.
Parked on the dirt road behind Vick is his near-totalled 1967
Cadillac Deville convertible; it's scratched, dented, filthy -
- and missing
|
turner
|
How many times does the word 'turner' appear in the text?
| 2
|
ÂÂAh!â she said laughing. âÂÂWhat is it all but words!â And so again she
closed the conversation. But Ursula was still brooding.
âÂÂAnd how do you find home, now you have come back to it?â she asked.
Gudrun paused for some moments, coldly, before answering. Then, in a
cold truthful voice, she said:
âÂÂI find myself completely out of it.âÂÂ
âÂÂAnd father?âÂÂ
Gudrun looked at Ursula, almost with resentment, as if brought to bay.
âÂÂI havenâÂÂt thought about him: IâÂÂve refrained,â she said coldly.
âÂÂYes,â wavered Ursula; and the conversation was really at an end. The
sisters found themselves confronted by a void, a terrifying chasm, as
if they had looked over the edge.
They worked on in silence for some time, GudrunâÂÂs cheek was flushed
with repressed emotion. She resented its having been called into being.
âÂÂShall we go out and look at that wedding?â she asked at length, in a
voice that was too casual.
âÂÂYes!â cried Ursula, too eagerly, throwing aside her sewing and leaping
up, as if to escape something, thus betraying the tension of the
situation and causing a friction of dislike to go over GudrunâÂÂs nerves.
As she went upstairs, Ursula was aware of the house, of her home round
about her. And she loathed it, the sordid, too-familiar place! She was
afraid at the depth of her feeling against the home, the milieu, the
whole atmosphere and condition of this obsolete life. Her feeling
frightened her.
The two girls were soon walking swiftly down the main road of Beldover,
a wide street, part shops, part dwelling-houses, utterly formless and
sordid, without poverty. Gudrun, new from her life in Chelsea and
Sussex, shrank cruelly from this amorphous ugliness of a small colliery
town in the Midlands. Yet forward she went, through the whole sordid
gamut of pettiness, the long amorphous, gritty street. She was exposed
to every stare, she passed on through a stretch of torment. It was
strange that she should have chosen to come back and test the full
effect of this shapeless, barren ugliness upon herself. Why had she
wanted to submit herself to it, did she still want to submit herself to
it, the insufferable torture of these ugly, meaningless people, this
defaced countryside? She felt like a beetle toiling in the dust. She
was filled with repulsion.
They turned off the main road, past a black patch of common-garden,
where sooty cabbage stumps stood shameless. No one thought to be
ashamed. No one was ashamed of it all.
âÂÂIt is like a country in an underworld,â said Gudrun. âÂÂThe colliers
bring it above-ground with them, shovel it up. Ursula, itâÂÂs marvellous,
itâÂÂs really marvellousâÂÂitâÂÂs really wonderful, another world. The people
are all ghouls, and everything is ghostly. Everything is a ghoulish
replica of the real world, a replica, a ghoul, all soiled, everything
sordid. ItâÂÂs like being mad,
|
really
|
How many times does the word 'really' appear in the text?
| 2
|
CONCHUBOR. How would I be happy
seeing age coming on me each year, when the
dry leaves are blowing back and forward at
the gate of Emain? And yet this last while
I'm saying out, when I see the furze breaking
and the daws sitting two and two on ash-trees
by the duns of Emain, Deirdre's a year nearer
25
her full age when she'll be my mate and com-
rade and then I'm glad surely.
DEIRDRE -- _almost to herself._ -- I will
not be your mate in Emain.
CONCHUBOR -- _not heeding her._ -- It's
there you'll be proud and happy and you'll
learn that, if young men are great hunters, yet
it's with the like of myself you'll find a knowl-
edge of what is priceless in your own like.
What we all need is a place is safe and
splendid, and it's that you'll get in Emain in
two days or three.
DEIRDRE -- _aghast._ -- Two days!
CONCHUBOR. I have the rooms ready,
and in a little while you'll be brought down
there, to be my queen and queen of the five
parts of Ireland.
DEIRDRE -- _standing up frightened and
pleading._ -- I'd liefer stay this place, Con-
chubor. . . . Leave me this place, where I'm
well used to the tracks and pathways and the
people of the glens. . . . It's for this life I'm
born, surely.
CONCHUBOR. You'll be happier and
greater with myself in Emain. It is I will be
your comrade, and will stand between you and
the great troubles are foretold.
DEIRDRE. I will not be your queen in
26
Emain when it's my pleasure to be having my
freedom on the edges of the hills.
CONCHUBOR. It's my wish to have you
quickly; I'm sick and weary thinking of the
day you'll be brought down to me, and seeing
you walking into my big, empty halls. I've
made all sure to have you, and yet all said
there's a fear in the back of my mind I'd miss
you and have great troubles in the end. It's
for that, Deirdre, I'm praying that you'll
come quickly; and you may take the word of
a man has no lies, you'll not find, with any
other, the like of what I'm bringing you in
wildness and confusion in my own mind.
DEIRDRE. I cannot go, Conchubor.
CONCHUBOR -- _taking a triumphant
tone._ -- It is my pleasure to have you, and I
a man is waiting a long while on the throne
of Ulster. Wouldn't you liefer be my com-
rade, growing up the like of Emer and Maeve,
than to be in this place and you a child always?
DEIRDRE. You don't know me and
you'd have little joy taking me, Conchubor.
. . . I'm a long while watching the days
getting a great speed passing me by. I'm too
long taking my will, and it's that way I'll be
living always.
CONCHUBOR -- _dryly._ -- Call Fergus to
27
come with me. This is your last night upon
Slieve Fuadh.
DEIRDRE -- _now pleadingly._ -- Leave me
a short space longer, Conchubor. Isn't it a
poor thing I should be hastened away, when
all these troubles are foretold? Leave me a
year, Conchubor; it isn't much I'm asking.
CONCHUBOR. It's much to have me
two score and two weeks waiting for your
voice in Emain, and you in this place growing
lonesome and shy. I'm a ripe man and in
great love, and yet, Deirdre, I'm the King of
Ulster. (_He gets up._) I'll call Fergus, and
we'll make Emain ready in the morning.
[_He goes towards door on left
|
deirdre
|
How many times does the word 'deirdre' appear in the text?
| 9
|
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL - DAY
</b>
SUPER: April 27, 1973
All is quiet outside this suburban school on a sunny
Friday afternoon. Cars idle in the driveway awaiting
the three o'clock onslaught of liberated children.
Two faded yellow buses stand ready.
The lull is shattered by the CLANGING of the final BELL.
A swarm of children pours out the door and down the
broad front steps, scattering across the lawn toward
the cars and the buses.
Moving slowly through the crowd, ROBIN and ALEX HAMMOND,
nine-year-old identical twins, appear at the doorway..
Attractive, dark-haired children, they seem more sub-
dued than the others. As they walk quietly down the
stairs, Robin lags behind, staring at a boy teasing a
girl nearby. He is NICK MCBRIDE, eleven years old,
two grades ahead of Robin and the most popular boy in
school. The pretty girl laughing at his antics is KIM
HAMMOND, also eleven, Robin's older sister.
<b> ALEX
</b> C'mon, Robin.
<b> ROBIN
</b>
<b> (STUTTERING BADLY)
</b> W-w-where's D-d-daddy?
<b> ALEX
</b> He's got a meeting at the high
school. We're supposed to walk
home with Kim...
(sees Robin watching
the young couple)
She's too busy. Let's go
by ourselves.
<b> ROBIN
</b> N-n-n-no, Alex. Let's w-w-wait.
<b> ALEX
</b> Why?
Robin is staring at Nick. Alex looks, understands.
He's angry.
<b> ALEX
</b>
<b>
|
robin
|
How many times does the word 'robin' appear in the text?
| 8
|
size of it, old man. And calling hard names won't
help any. There's the wind coming. You'd better get overside before I
pull out, or I'll tow your canoe under."
"Really, Griffiths, you sound almost right. I can't stop you." Grief
fumbled in the pouch that hung on his revolver-belt and pulled out a
crumpled official-looking paper. "But maybe this will stop you. And it's
something for _your_ pipe. Smoke up."
"What is it?"
"An admiralty warrant. Running to the New Hebrides won't save you. It
can be served anywhere."
Griffiths hesitated and swallowed, when he had finished glancing at the
document. With knit brows he pondered this new phase of the situation.
Then, abruptly, as he looked up, his face relaxed into all frankness.
"You were cleverer than I thought, old man," he said. "You've got me
hip and thigh. I ought to have known better than to try and beat you.
Jacobsen told me I couldn't, and I wouldn't listen to him. But he was
right, and so are you. I've got the money below. Come on down and we'll
settle."
He started to go down, then stepped aside to let his visitor precede
him, at the same time glancing seaward to where the dark flaw of wind
was quickening the water.
"Heave short," he told the mate. "Get up sail and stand ready to break
out."
As Grief sat down on the edge of the mate's bunk, close against and
facing the tiny table, he noticed the butt of a revolver just projecting
from under the pillow. On the table, which hung on hinges from the
for'ard bulkhead, were pen and ink, also a battered log-book.
"Oh, I don't mind being caught in a dirty trick," Griffiths was saying
defiantly. "I've been in the tropics too long. I'm a sick man, a damn
sick man. And the whiskey, and the sun, and the fever have made me sick
in morals, too. Nothing's too mean and low for me now, and I can
understand why the niggers eat each other, and take heads, and such
things. I could do it myself. So I call trying to do you out of that
small account a pretty mild trick. Wisht I could offer you a drink."
Grief made no reply, and the other busied himself in attempting to
unlock a large and much-dented cash-box. From on deck came falsetto
cries and the creak and rattle of blocks as the black crew swung up
mainsail and driver. Grief watched a large cockroach crawling over the
greasy paintwork. Griffiths, with an oath of irritation, carried the
cash-box to the companion-steps for better light. Here, on his feet, and
bending over the box, his back to his visitor, his hands shot out to
the rifle that stood beside the steps, and at the same moment he whirled
about.
"Now don't you move a muscle," he commanded.
Grief smiled, elevated his eyebrows quizzically, and obeyed. His left
hand rested on the bunk beside him; his right hand lay on the table.
His revolver hung on his right hip in plain sight. But in his mind was
recollection of the other revolver under the pillow.
"Huh!" Griffiths sneered. "You've got everybody in the Solomons
hypnotized, but let me tell you you ain't got me. Now I'm going to throw
you off my vessel, along with your admiralty warrant, but first you've
got to do something. Lift up that log-book."
The other glanced curiously at the log-book, but did not move.
"I tell you I'm a sick man, Grief; and I'd as soon shoot you as smash a
cockroach. Lift up that log-book, I say."
Sick he did look, his lean face working nervously with the rage that
possessed him. Grief lifted the book and set it aside. Beneath lay a
written sheet of tablet paper.
"Read it," Griffiths commanded. "Read it aloud."
Grief obeyed; but while he read
|
griffiths
|
How many times does the word 'griffiths' appear in the text?
| 5
|
is chief agent to the Committee of General Security now."
"What does that mean?"
Both leaned back in their chairs, and their sombrely-clad figures were
once more merged in the gloom of the narrow box. Instinctively, since
the name of the Public Prosecutor had been mentioned between them, they
had allowed their voices to sink to a whisper.
The older man--a stoutish, florid-looking individual, with small, keen
eyes, and skin pitted with small-pox--shrugged his shoulders at
his friend's question, and then said with an air of contemptuous
indifference:
"It means, my good St. Just, that these two men whom you see down
there, calmly conning the programme of this evening's entertainment, and
preparing to enjoy themselves to-night in the company of the late M. de
Moliere, are two hell-hounds as powerful as they are cunning."
"Yes, yes," said St. Just, and much against his will a slight shudder
ran through his slim figure as he spoke. "Foucquier-Tinville I know; I
know his cunning, and I know his power--but the other?"
"The other?" retorted de Batz lightly. "Heron? Let me tell you, my
friend, that even the might and lust of that damned Public Prosecutor
pale before the power of Heron!"
"But how? I do not understand."
"Ah! you have been in England so long, you lucky dog, and though no
doubt the main plot of our hideous tragedy has reached your ken, you
have no cognisance of the actors who play the principal parts on this
arena flooded with blood and carpeted with hate. They come and go, these
actors, my good St. Just--they come and go. Marat is already the man
of yesterday, Robespierre is the man of to-morrow. To-day we still have
Danton and Foucquier-Tinville; we still have Pere Duchesne, and your
own good cousin Antoine St. Just, but Heron and his like are with us
always."
"Spies, of course?"
"Spies," assented the other. "And what spies! Were you present at the
sitting of the Assembly to-day?"
"I was. I heard the new decree which already has passed into law. Ah! I
tell you, friend, that we do not let the grass grow under our feet these
days. Robespierre wakes up one morning with a whim; by the afternoon
that whim has become law, passed by a servile body of men too terrified
to run counter to his will, fearful lest they be accused of moderation
or of humanity--the greatest crimes that can be committed nowadays."
"But Danton?"
"Ah! Danton? He would wish to stem the tide that his own passions
have let loose; to muzzle the raging beasts whose fangs he himself has
sharpened. I told you that Danton is still the man of to-day; to-morrow
he will be accused of moderation. Danton and moderation!--ye gods!
Eh? Danton, who thought the guillotine too slow in its work, and armed
thirty soldiers with swords, so that thirty heads might fall at one
and the same time. Danton, friend, will perish to-morrow accused of
treachery against the Revolution, of moderation towards her enemies;
and curs like Heron will feast on the blood of lions like Danton and his
crowd."
He paused a moment, for he dared not raise his voice, and his whispers
were being drowned by the noise in the auditorium. The curtain, timed
to be raised at eight o'clock, was still down, though it was close on
half-past, and the public was growing impatient. There was loud stamping
of feet, and a few shrill whistles of disapproval proceeded from the
gallery.
"If Heron gets impatient," said de Batz lightly, when the noise had
momentarily subsided, "the manager of this theatre and mayhap his leading
actor and actress will spend an unpleasant day to-morrow."
"Always Heron!" said St. Just, with a contemptuous smile.
"Yes, my friend," rejoined the other imperturbably, "always Heron. And
he has even obtained a longer lease of
|
heron
|
How many times does the word 'heron' appear in the text?
| 6
|
Second draft script
With the support of the Media Programme of the European Union
The SOUND of Muay Thai boxing... The Art of Eight Limbs... Thrust
and move... Feet shuffling across the ring...
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> INT. BACK ROOM - NIGHT
</b>
CLOSE ON a pair of hands from VARIOUS ANGLES...
The SOUNDS of the fighting grow LOUDER. Punches, kicks, elbows...
The hands tense into fists. They're strong hands. Fighter's hands.
ZOOM OUT TO REVEAL Julian (mid-thirties) staring at his hands.
Even though he's kept in shape, he hasn't fought for a long time.
The SOUND of the boxing match gets LOUDER STILL as Julian continues
staring at his hands - it's almost as if he's meditating. Suddenly
he breaths in.
Behind him sits a young kid dressed in Thai boxing clothes - this
is Liang, barely sixteen. He looks nervous, occasionally glancing
at Julian's reflection through the huge mirror that hangs on the
far wall.
Julian continues to stare at his hands and closes them into a
tight fist.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> INT. CORRIDORS - NIGHT
</b>
The SOUNDS of the boxing match reach FEVER PITCH as we TRACK WITH
Julian and Liang making their way towards the ring.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> INT. THAI BOXING RING - NIGHT
</b>
Two Young Thai Boxers beat the crap out of each other.
The crowd is wild with excitement, people placing bets on which
way the fight will turn.
One of the Thai Boxers goes down and money immediately starts
changing hands...
The ring is cleared and Liang jumps in as Julian pushes his way
though the crowd, nodding at people as he passes. They know him
here.
Again bets are placed....
PICK OUT a face in the crowd. Billy. Julian's older brother (late
thirties).
Julian sits down next to Billy who's delighted to see him, throwing
his arm around him, pulling him in close.
<b>
|
crowd
|
How many times does the word 'crowd' appear in the text?
| 2
|
the sleepers,
and the trysail was handy on deck already, for we hadn't been
expecting anything better. We were all in oilskins, of course,
and the night was as black as a coal mine, with only a ray of
light from the slit in the binnacle shield, and you couldn't tell
one man from another except by his voice. The old man took the
wheel; we got the boom amidships, and he jammed her into the wind
until she had hardly any way. It was blowing now, and it was all
that I and two others could do to get in the slack of the
downhaul, while the others lowered away at the peak and throat,
and we had our hands full to get a couple of turns round the wet
sail. It's all child's play on a fore-and-after compared with
reefing topsails in anything like weather, but the gear of a
schooner sometimes does unhandy things that you don't expect, and
those everlasting long halliards get foul of everything if they
get adrift. I remember thinking how unhandy that particular job
was. Somebody unhooked the throat-halliard block, and thought he
had hooked it into the head-cringle of the trysail, and sang out
to hoist away, but he had missed it in the dark, and the heavy
block went flying into the lee rigging, and nearly killed him
when it swung back with the weather roll. Then the old man got
her up in the wind until the jib was shaking like thunder; then
he held her off, and she went off as soon as the head-sails
filled, and he couldn't get her back again without the spanker.
Then the _Helen B._ did her favourite trick, and before we had
time to say much we had a sea over the quarter and were up to our
waists, with the parrels of the trysail only half becketed round
the mast, and the deck so full of gear that you couldn't put your
foot on a plank, and the spanker beginning to get adrift again,
being badly stopped, and the general confusion and hell's delight
that you can only have on a fore-and-after when there's nothing
really serious the matter. Of course, I don't mean to say that
the old man couldn't have steered his trick as well as you or I
or any other seaman; but I don't believe he had ever been on
board the _Helen B._ before, or had his hand on her wheel till
then; and he didn't know her ways. I don't mean to say that what
happened was his fault. I don't know whose fault it was. Perhaps
nobody was to blame. But I knew something happened somewhere on
board when we shipped that sea, and you'll never get it out of my
head. I hadn't any spare time myself, for I was becketing the
rest of the trysail to the mast. We were on the starboard tack,
and the throat-halliard came down to port as usual, and I suppose
there were at least three men at it, hoisting away, while I was
at the beckets.
Now I am going to tell you something. You have known me, man and
boy, several voyages; and you are older than I am; and you have
always been a good friend to me. Now, do you think I am the sort
of man to think I hear things where there isn't anything to hear,
or to think I see things when there is nothing to see? No, you
don't. Thank you. Well now, I had passed the last becket, and I
sang out to the men to sway away, and I was standing on the jaws
of the spanker-gaff, with my left hand on the bolt-rope of the
trysail, so that I could feel when it was board-taut, and I
wasn't thinking of anything except being glad the job was over,
and that we were going to heave her to. It was as black as a
coal-pocket, except that you could see the streaks on the seas as
they went by, and abaft the deck-house I could see the ray of
light from the binnacle on the captain's yellow oilskin as he
stood at the wheel--or rather I might have seen it if I had
looked round at
|
course
|
How many times does the word 'course' appear in the text?
| 1
|
. Mother is old, she may never see
her son again. Girls are vain and fickle, they will turn their thoughts
in other directions--there are the men who have done their military
service, who have paid their toll to the abominable government up at
Budapest and who are therefore free to court and free to marry.
Aye! Aye! That's how it is. They must go through with it, though they
hate it all--every moment of it. They hate to be packed into railway
carriages like so many dried heads of maize in a barn, they hate to wear
the heavy cloth clothes, the hard boots, the leather pouches and belts.
My God, how they hate it!
And the rude alien sergeant, with his "Vorwärts!" and "Marsch!" and
"Rechts" and "Links"--I ask you in the name of the Holy Virgin what kind
of gibberish is that?
But they must all go!--all those, at least, who are whole and sound in
body. Bless them! They are sound enough when they go! It is when they
come back! . . .
Yes! They must all go, those who are sound in eyes and wind and limb,
and it is very difficult to cheat the commission who come to take our
lads away. There was Benkó, for instance; he starved himself for three
months this summer, hoping to reduce his chest measurements by a few
needful centimètres; but it was no use. The doctor who examined him said
that with regular food and plenty of exercise he would soon put on more
flesh, and he would get both for the next three years. And János--you
remember?--he chopped off one of his toes--thinking that would get him
off those hated three years of service; but it seems there is a new
decree by which the lads need not be possessed of all ten toes in order
to serve the hateful government.
No, no! It is no use trying to get out of it. They measure you, and
bang your chest and your back, they look at your eyes and make you open
your mouth to look at your teeth, but anyhow they take you away for
three years.
They make you swear that you will faithfully serve your country and your
King during that time, that you will obey your superiors, and follow
your leader wherever he may command, over land and by water. By water! I
ask you! When there was Albert and Jenö who could not bear even the
sight of water; they would not have gone in a boat on the Maros if you
had offered them a gold piece each! How could they swear that they would
follow some fool of a German officer on water?
They could not swear that. They knew they could not do it. But they were
clapped in prison like common malefactors and treated like brigands and
thieves until they did swear. And after that--well! they had once to
cross the Theiss in a ferry-boat--they were made to do it!
Oh, no! Nothing happened to them then, but Albert came back after his
three years' service, with two of his front teeth gone, and we all know
that Jenö now is little better than an idiot.
So now you know, stranger, why we at Marosfalva call the fourteenth day
of September the very blackest in the whole calendar, and why at eight
o'clock in the morning nobody is at work in the fields.
For the fourteenth day being such a black one, we must all make the most
of the few hours that come before it. At nine o'clock of that miserable
morning the packing of our lads into the train will commence, but until
then they are making merry, bless them! They are true Hungarians, you
know! They will dance, and they will sing, they will listen to gipsy
music and kiss the girls so long as there is breath in their body, so
long as they are free to do it.
At nine o'clock to-day they cease to be free men, they are under the
orders of corporals and sergeants and officers who will command them to
go "Vorwärts" and "Rechts" and "Links" and all that God-forsaken
|
marry
|
How many times does the word 'marry' appear in the text?
| 0
|
're no joke to me!"
Having just finished her spring cleaning and having had, for economy's
sake, to do it all herself, the housewife's tidy soul was doubly tried,
and she had a momentary desire to put the baby and her wagon out upon
the street again, to take its chances with somebody else. However, when
she re-entered with her pail and cloths, she was instantly diverted by
the sight that met her.
Dorothy C. had managed to pull her coat over her head and in some
unknown fashion twist the strings of her bonnet around her throat, in an
effort to remove the objectionable headgear. The result was disaster.
The more she pulled the tighter grew that band around her neck and her
face was already blue from choking when Mrs. Chester uncovered it and
rescued the child from strangling.
As the lady afterward described the affair to her husband it appeared
that:
"Seeing that, and her so nigh death, as it were, gave me the terriblest
turn! So that, all unknown, down sits I in that puddle of milk as
careless as the little one herself. And I cuddled her up that close, as
if I'd comforted lots of babies before, and me a green hand at the
business. To see her sweet little lip go quiver-quiver, and her big
brown eyes fill with tears--Bless you, John! I was crying myself in the
jerk of a lamb's tail! Then I got up, slipped off my wet skirt and got
her out of her outside things, and there pinned to her dress was this
note. Read it out again, please, it so sort of puzzles me."
So the postman read all that they were to learn, for many and many a
day, concerning the baby which had come to their home; and this is a
copy of that ill-spelled, rudely scrawled document:
"thee child Is wun Yere an too Munths old hur burthDay is aPrill
Furst. til firthur notis Thar will Bee a letur in The posOfis the
furst of Everi mounth with Ten doLurs. to Pay." Signed:
"dorothy's Gardeen
hur X mark."
Now John Chester had been a postman for several years and he had learned
to decipher all sorts of handwriting. Instantly, he recognized that this
scrawl was in a disguised hand, wholly different from that upon the card
pinned to the child's coat, and that the spelling was also incorrect
from a set purpose. Laying the two bits of writing together he carefully
studied them, and after a few moments' scrutiny declared:
"The same person wrote both these papers. The first one in a natural,
cultivated hand, and a woman's. The second in a would-be-ignorant one,
to divert suspicion. But--the writer didn't think it out far enough;
else she never would have given the same odd shape to her r's and that
twist to the tails of her y's. It's somebody that knows us, too,
likely, though I can't for the life of me guess who. What shall we do
about her? Send her to an Orphanage, ourselves? Or turn her over to the
police to care for, Martha dear?"
His face was so grave that, for a moment, she believed him to be in
earnest; then that sunny smile which was never long absent from his
features broke over them and in that she read the answer to her own
desire. To whomsoever Dorothy C. belonged, that heartless person had
passed the innocent baby on to them and they might safely keep her for
their own.
Only, knowing the extreme tidiness of his energetic wife, John finally
cautioned:
"Don't settle it too hastily, Martha. By the snap of her brown eyes and
the toss of her yellow head, I foresee there'll be a deal more spilled
milk before we've done with her!"
"I don't care!" recklessly answered the housewife, "_she's mine_!"
CHAPTER II
A POSTAL SUBSTITUTE
So long a time had passed that Dorothy C. had grown to be what father
John called "a baker's dozen
|
long
|
How many times does the word 'long' appear in the text?
| 1
|
ever round our globe.
"Why should not this be the body in question?"
Very ingenious, Mr. Correspondent on the "New York Herald!" but how
about the trumpet? There was no trumpet in Herr Schulze's projectile!
So all the explanations explained nothing, and all the observers had
observed in vain. There remained only the suggestion offered by the
director of Zi-Ka-Wey. But the opinion of a Chinaman!
The discussion continued, and there was no sign of agreement. Then
came a short period of rest. Some days elapsed without any object,
aerolite or otherwise, being described, and without any trumpet notes
being heard in the atmosphere. The body then had fallen on some part
of the globe where it had been difficult to trace it; in the sea,
perhaps. Had it sunk in the depths of the Atlantic, the Pacific, or
the Indian Ocean? What was to be said in this matter?
But then, between the 2nd and 9th of June, there came a new series of
facts which could not possibly be explained by the unaided existence
of a cosmic phenomenon.
In a week the Hamburgers at the top of St. Michael's Tower, the Turks
on the highest minaret of St. Sophia, the Rouennais at the end of the
metal spire of their cathedral, the Strasburgers at the summit of
their minister, the Americans on the head of the Liberty statue at
the entrance of the Hudson and on the Bunker Hill monument at Boston,
the Chinese at the spike of the temple of the Four Hundred Genii at
Canton, the Hindus on the sixteenth terrace of the pyramid of the
temple at Tanjore, the San Pietrini at the cross of St. Peter's at
Rome, the English at the cross of St. Paul's in London, the Egyptians
at the apex of the Great Pyramid of Ghizeh, the Parisians at the
lighting conductor of the iron tower of the Exposition of 1889, a
thousand feet high, all of them beheld a flag floating from some one
of these inaccessible points.
And the flag was black, dotted with stars, and it bore a golden sun
in its center.
Chapter II
AGREEMENT IMPOSSIBLE
"And the first who says the contrary--"
"Indeed! But we will say the contrary so long as there is a place to
say it in!"
"And in spite of your threats--"
"Mind what you are saying, Bat Fynn!"
"Mind what you are saying, Uncle Prudent!"
"I maintain that the screw ought to be behind!"
"And so do we! And so do we!" replied half a hundred voices
confounded in one.
"No! It ought to be in front!" shouted Phil Evans.
"In front!" roared fifty other voices, with a vigor in no whit less
remarkable.
"We shall never agree!"
"Never! Never!"
"Then what is the use of a dispute?"
"It is not a dispute! It is a discussion!"
One would not have thought so to listen to the taunts, objurgations,
and vociferations which filled the lecture room for a good quarter of
an hour.
The room was one of the largest in the Weldon Institute, the
well-known club in Walnut Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U. S.
A. The evening before there had been an election of a lamplighter,
occasioning many public manifestations, noisy meetings, and even
interchanges of blows, resulting in an effervescence which had not
yet subsided, and which would account for some of the excitement just
exhibited by the members of the Weldon Institute. For this was merely
a meeting of balloonists, discussing the burning question of the
direction of balloons.
In this great saloon there were struggling, pushing, gesticulating,
shouting, arguing, disputing, a hundred balloonists, all with their
hats on, under the authority of a president, assisted by a secretary
and treasurer. They were not engineers by profession, but simply
amateurs of all that appertained to aerostatics, and they were
amateurs in a fury, and especially foes of those who would oppose to
aerostats "apparatuses heavier than the air," flying machines, aerial
ships, or what not.
|
what
|
How many times does the word 'what' appear in the text?
| 4
|
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b> A huge clock marks 7:55 p.m. (The clock belongs to some landmark
building, to be determined). Immediately following, the building goes
dark.
Establishing shot of the Eiffel Tower, lit. Suddenly, all the lights
go out.
The same thing happens with the Granada's Alhambra, Seville's Giralda
Tower, the Guggenheim at Bilbao, the Gate of Alcala. All these well-
known architectonic wonders turn dark, abruptly. (Beauty that
disappears suddenly, beauty that's extinguished and envelops us in
darkness.)
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> 1. HARRY CAINE'S HOME. INT. NIGHT.
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b> Harry (fifty years old) sits, as if he were waiting, without hurry,
immobile and patient in his study next to his desk, as if it were the
thing keeping him company. He isn't doing anything. He lets time
take its course. His silence is broken by the sound of footsteps that
come and go. At first we can't see who the footsteps belong to, until
they stop.
In the living room, a few meters from Harry, Judit stops. She, too,
is shrouded in darkness. She looks at her wristwatch, the second hand
moves from left to right on the watch face. Judit (forty-eight, looks
younger) breathes, impatient. (She is dressed soberly, in a dignified
and practical manner).
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b> She approaches a window that looks out onto the street. Everything
outside is also in darkness. The building in front is just a dark
mass. She looks to the end of the street. Almost all the buildings
visible from the window are dark, the Gate of Alcala in the background
is also not lit. Without turning, she says to Harry:
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> JUDIT
</b> The Door of Alcala has also darkened.
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b> Harry is still sitting, inert
|
darkened
|
How many times does the word 'darkened' appear in the text?
| 0
|
by
<b>
</b> David Koepp
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> February 23, 2000
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> --------------------------------------------------------------------
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> This film is short.
<b>
</b> This film is fast.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> FADE IN:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. MANHATTAN - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The whole island, from the south. For a second. Literally.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. NEW YORK SKYLINE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Closer, just the skyline. For another second.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. UPPER WEST SIDE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Closer still, the Upper West Side. For another second. No
time to waste admiring the scenery.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. WEST 83RD STREET - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Race across a field of PEDESTRIANS to pick up three women
hurrying down the sidewalk. LYDIA LYNCH, a real estate
broker, vaults down the sidewalk, she's got a hell of a
stride. MEG ALTMAN, thirtyish, struggles to keep up with
her, she's tall, wafer-thin, pale as a ghost. SARAH, a nine
year old girl, flat out runs to keep up, dribbling a
basketball as she goes. The kid's athletic, much tougher
than Meg, who she resembles.
<b>
</b> Lydia reads from a sheet she carries in her bouncing hands.
<b>
</b><b> LYDIA
</b> -- seventeen feet wide, fifty-five
feet deep, forty-two hundred square
feet, four floors with a rentable
basement apartment, so five
altogether, courtyard in back --
<b>
</b><b> MEG
</b> Could you slow down a little?
(looking back over her
shoulder)
Or we could wait for the car...
<b>
</b><b> LYDIA
</b> No cars. Feet are faster.
<b>
</b><b> MEG
</b>
|
altogether
|
How many times does the word 'altogether' appear in the text?
| 0
|
Blue Revision March 16, 2012
Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.
@KhloeKardashian
<b> 2.
</b>
<b>1 EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT 1
</b>
A Toyota parks and five teenagers get out and walk towards
us, down a quiet residential street in the Hollywood Hills.
One of them, a slightly drunk girl in a pale blue Juicy sweat
suit stumbles.
<b> DRUNK GIRL (NICKI)
</b> (laughing)
Shit.
<b> GIRL 1 (REBECCA)
</b> C'mon. Hurry up.
They come to a gated home. A girl that seems to be the
leader, leans down and pulls on an unraveling part of the
bottom of the chain link fence.
She rolls under, and the others follow.
A loud song kicks in as they put their sweatshirt hoods up in
unison and turn around and walk backwards toward the house.
They've done this before, they have it down.
One checks under the mat of the front door, we follow them as
they go around to the back, checking doors, and find a back
window open.
A guy gives Girl 1 a lift up, we see her bright underwear as
she climbs inside into a laundry room.
She runs around to open a side door for the rest, and they
slip inside.
Once inside, we follow REBECCA into a bedroom dressing area.
She is the 17 yr-old Korean-American ring-leader, who is
totally cool and composed.
She looks over her shoulder at the others with a raised eye-
brow.
<b> REBECCA
</b> Let's go shopping!
And she pulls open the closet door.
CLOSE UP: grabbing Louis Vuitton bags.
A drawer opens with a few Rolexes, that are scooped in to a
Louis Vuitton duffle bag.
<b> (CONTINUED)
</b><b> 3.
</b><b>1 CONTINUED: 1
</b>
|
girl
|
How many times does the word 'girl' appear in the text?
| 4
|
cottages, distant less than
two kilometres now, the younger of the two men drew rein suddenly, and
lifting his hat with outstretched arm high above his head, he gave a
long sigh which ended in a kind of exultant call of joy.
"There is Notre Dame de Vaulx," he cried at the top of his voice, and
hat still in hand he pointed to the distant hamlet. "There's the spot
where--before the sun darts its midday rays upon us--I shall hear great
and glorious and authentic news of _him_ from a man who has seen him as
lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the
sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope in his eyes.
Oh!" he went on speaking with extraordinary volubility, "it is all too
good to be true! Since yesterday I have felt like a man in a dream!--I
haven't lived, I have scarcely breathed, I . . ."
The other man broke in upon his ravings with a good-humoured growl.
"You have certainly behaved like an escaped lunatic since early this
morning, my good de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that--as
we shall have to mix again with our fellow-men presently--you might try
to behave with some semblance of reasonableness."
But de Marmont only laughed. He was so excited that his lips trembled
all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed just as if some inward
fire was burning deep down in his soul.
"No! I can't," he retorted. "I want to shout and to sing and to cry
'Vive l'Empereur' till those frowning mountains over there echo with my
shouts--and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and
curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will--an escaped
lunatic--if to be mad with joy be a proof of insanity. Clyffurde, my
dear friend," he added more soberly, "I am honestly sorry for you
to-day."
"Thank you," commented his companion drily. "May I ask how I have
deserved this genuine sympathy?"
"Well! because you are an Englishman, and not a Frenchman," said the
younger man earnestly; "because you--as an Englishman--must desire
Napoleon's downfall, his humiliation, perhaps his death, instead of
exulting in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him,
following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my
nationality or my patriotism demanded that I should fight against
Napoleon, that I should hate him, or vilify him, I firmly believe that I
would turn my sword against myself, so shamed should I feel in my own
eyes."
It was the Englishman's turn to laugh, and he did it very heartily. His
laugh was quite different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it,
more good temper, more appreciation of everything that tends to gaiety
in life and more direct defiance of what is gloomy.
He too had reined in his horse, presumably in order to listen to his
friend's enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his
merry, pleasant eyes a quaint look of half contemptuous tolerance
tempered by kindly humour.
"Well, you see, my good de Marmont," he said, still laughing, "you
happen to be a Frenchman, a visionary and weaver of dreams. Believe me,"
he added more seriously, "if you had the misfortune to be a prosy,
shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just
because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would
realise soberly and calmly that while Napoleon Bonaparte is allowed to
rule over France--or over any country for the matter of that--there will
never be peace in the world or prosperity in any land."
The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his
face--a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait
for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a
warning finger.
Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more:
"Shall we," he said, "go slowly on
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 8
|
><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> First Draft
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SIMPLE BLACK ON WHITE CREDITS ROLL TO BIG STAR'S "I'M IN LOVE
</b> WITH A GIRL." When all is said and done, up comes a single
number in parenthesis, like so:
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> (478)
</b><b> EXT. PARK - DAY
</b><b>
</b> For a few seconds we watch A MAN (20s) and a WOMAN (20s) on a
park bench. Their names are TOM and SUMMER. Neither one says
a word.
<b>
</b><b>
</b> CLOSE ON her HAND, covering his. Notice the wedding ring. No
words are spoken. Tom looks at her the way every woman wants
to be looked at.
<b>
</b> A DISTINGUISHED VOICE begins to speak to us.
<b>
</b><b> NARRATOR
</b> This is a story of boy meets girl.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> (1)
</b><b> INT CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The boy is TOM HANSEN. He sits at a very long rectangular
conference table. The walls are lined with framed blow-up
sized greeting cards. Tom, dark hair and blue eyes, wears a t-
shirt under his sports coat and Adidas tennis shoes to
balance out the corporate dress code. He looks pretty bored.
<b>
</b><b> NARRATOR
</b>
|
looks
|
How many times does the word 'looks' appear in the text?
| 1
|
1970's tape recorder.
<b> HARVEY MILK (V.O.)
</b> This is Harvey Milk speaking on
Friday November 18th. This is to be
played only in the event of my
death by assassination...
REVEAL: HARVEY MILK, 48, sitting at his kitchen table in a
cluttered San Francisco apartment.
<b> HARVEY MILK (CONT'D)
</b> During one of the early campaigns,
I started opening my speeches with
the same line and it sort of became
my signature...
<b> 2 EXT. CITY HALL - NIGHT
</b>
In street clothes, trying to corral an angry mob on City
Hall's steps, Harvey lifts a bullhorn.
<b> HARVEY MILK
</b> Hello, I'm Harvey Milk, and I'm
here to recruit you.
<b> 3 INT. HARVEY'S KITCHEN - RECORDED WILL - NIGHT
</b>
Harvey at his kitchen table making his recording...
<b> HARVEY MILK
</b> If I was speaking to a slightly
hostile or mostly straight
audience, I'd try to break the
tension with a joke...
<b> 4 INT. UNION HALL - NIGHT
</b>
Harvey is in a plain, ill fitting brown suit making a
CAMPAIGN SPEECH to a crowd of stone faced UNION BOYS.
<b> HARVEY MILK
</b> I know, I know, I'm not what you
were expecting, but I left my high
heels at home.
Harvey gets a LAUGH from the AUDIENCE.
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> 2.
</b>
<b> 5 INT. HARVEY'S KITCHEN - RECORDED WILL - NIGHT
</b>
RETURN TO: Harvey speaking into his tape recorder.
<b> HARVEY MILK
</b> I fully realize that a person who
stands for what I stand for - an
activist, a gay activist - becomes
the target or potential target for
a person who is insecure,
terrified, afraid or very disturbed
themselves...
<b> 6 INT
|
audience
|
How many times does the word 'audience' appear in the text?
| 1
|
this, the people of Baslehurst and Cawston
had declared how comfortable for Mrs. Ray would be this accession of
wealth to the family. But Mrs. Ray had not become much the richer.
Mrs. Prime did no doubt pay her fair quota towards the maintenance
of the humble cottage at Bragg's End, for such was the name of the
spot at which Mrs. Ray lived. But she did not do more than this.
She established a Dorcas society at Baslehurst, of which she became
permanent president, and spent her money in carrying on this
institution in the manner most pleasing to herself. I fear that Mrs.
Prime liked to be more powerful at these charitable meetings than her
sister labourers in the same vineyard, and that she achieved this
power by the means of her money. I do not bring this as a heavy
accusation against her. In such institutions there is generally need
of a strong, stirring, leading mind. If some one would not assume
power, the power needed would not be exercised. Such a one as Mrs.
Prime is often necessary. But we all have our own pet temptations,
and I think that Mrs. Prime's temptation was a love of power.
It will be understood that Baslehurst is a town,--a town with a
market, and hotels, and a big brewery, and a square, and street;
whereas Cawston is a village, or rather a rural parish, three miles
out of Baslehurst, north of it, lying on the river Avon. But Bragg's
End, though within the parish of Cawston, lies about a mile and a
half from the church and village, on the road to Baslehurst, and
partakes therefore almost as much of the township of Baslehurst as
it does of the rusticity of Cawston. How Bragg came to such an end,
or why this corner of the parish came to be thus united for ever
to Bragg's name, no one in the parish knew. The place consisted of
a little green, and a little wooden bridge, over a little stream
that trickled away into the Avon. Here were clustered half a dozen
labourers' cottages, and a beer or cider shop. Standing back from the
green was the house and homestead of Farmer Sturt, and close upon
the green, with its garden hedge running down to the bridge, was the
pretty cottage of Mrs. Ray. Mr. Comfort had known her husband, and
he had found for her this quiet home. It was a pretty place, with
one small sitting-room opening back upon the little garden, and with
another somewhat larger fronting towards the road and the green. In
the front room Mrs. Ray lived, looking out upon so much of the world
as Bragg's End green afforded to her view. The other seemed to be
kept with some faint expectation of company that never came. Many of
the widow's neatest belongings were here preserved in most perfect
order; but one may say that they were altogether thrown away,--unless
indeed they afforded solace to their owner in the very act of dusting
them. Here there were four or five books, prettily bound, with gilt
leaves, arranged in shapes on the small round table. Here also was
deposited a spangled mat of wondrous brightness, made of short white
sticks of glass strung together. It must have taken care and time in
its manufacture, but was, I should say, but of little efficacy either
for domestic use or domestic ornament. There were shells on the
chimneypiece, and two or three china figures. There was a birdcage
hung in the window but without a bird. It was all very clean, but the
room conveyed at the first glance an overpowering idea of its own
absolute inutility and vanity. It was capable of answering no purpose
for which men and women use rooms; but he who could have said so to
Mrs. Ray must have been a cruel and a hardhearted man.
The other room which looked out upon the green was snug enough, and
sufficed for all the widow's wants. There was a little book-case
laden with books. There was the family table at which they ate their
meals; and there was the little table near the window at which Mrs.
Ray worked. There was an old sofa, and an old arm-chair; and there
was, also, a carpet, alas, so old that the poor woman
|
other
|
How many times does the word 'other' appear in the text?
| 1
|
it unless the pieces are
of nearly the same size and free from dirt, coal dust, and slate. The
work of preparation is done in odd-shaped buildings called "breakers."
One part of a breaker is often a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet
in height. The coal is carried to the top of the breaker. From there
it makes a journey to the ground, but something happens to it every
little way. It goes between rollers, which crush it; then over
screens, through which the smaller pieces fall. Sometimes the screens
are so made that the coal will pass over them, while the thin, flat
pieces of slate will fall through. In spite of all this, bits of coal
mixed with slate sometimes slide down with the coal, and these are
picked out by boys. A better way of getting rid of them is now coming
into use. This is to put the coal and slate into moving water. The
slate is heavier than the coal, and sinks; and so the coal can easily
be separated from it. Dealers have names for the various sizes of
coal. "Egg" must be between two and two and five eighths inches in
diameter; "nut" between three fourths and one and one eighth inches;
"pea" between one half and three fourths of an inch.
Mining coal is dangerous work. Any blow of the pickaxe may break into
a vein of water which will burst out and flood the mine. The wooden
props which support the roof may break, or the pillars of coal may not
be large enough; and the roof may fall in and crush the workers. There
are always poisonous gases. The coal, as has been said before, was
made under water, and therefore the gas which was formed in the
decaying leaves and wood could not escape. It is always bubbling out
from the coal, and at any moment a pickaxe may break into a hole that
is full of it. One kind of gas is called "choke-damp," because it
chokes or suffocates any one who breathes it. There is also
"white-damp," the gas which you see burning with a pretty blue flame
over a hot coal fire. Worst of all is the "fire-damp." If you stir up
the water in a marsh, you will see bubbles of it rise to the surface.
It is harmless in a marsh, but quite the opposite in a mine. When it
unites with a certain amount of air, it becomes explosive, and the
least bit of flame will cause a terrible explosion. Even coal dust may
explode if the air is full of it, and it is suddenly set in motion by
too heavy a blast of powder.
Miners used to work by candlelight. Every one knew how dangerous this
was; but no one found any better way until, about a hundred years ago,
Sir Humphry Davy noticed something which other people had not
observed. He discovered that flame would not pass through fine wire
gauze, and he made a safety lamp in which a little oil lamp was placed
in a round funnel of wire gauze. The light, but not the flame, would
pass through it; and all safety lamps that burn oil have been made on
this principle. The electric lamp, however, is now in general use. The
miner wears it on his cap, and between his shoulders he carries a
small, light storage battery. Even with safety lamps, however, there
are sometimes explosions. The only way to make a mine at all safe from
dangerous gases is to keep it full of fresh, pure air. There is no
wind to blow through the chambers and passages, and therefore air has
to be forced in. One way is to keep a large fire at the bottom of the
air shaft. If you stand on a stepladder, you will feel that the top of
the room is much warmer than the floor. This is because hot air
rises; and in a mine, the hot air over the fire rises and sucks the
foul air and gas out of the mine, and fresh air rushes in to take its
place. Another way is by a "fan," a machine that forces fresh air into
the mine.
[Illustration: MINERS AND THEIR MINE
Notice the safety lamps in the men's caps, and the little railroad on
which the cars of coal and ore travel, hauled by the useful mule.]
So it is that by hard work and much danger we get coal for burning.
|
something
|
How many times does the word 'something' appear in the text?
| 1
|
I won't trust him even now. He's a
wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've
seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a
bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought
me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--"
He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to
his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine
stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to
the revolver at his belt.
Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the
night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns.
It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to
the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the
new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean
shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow
in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at
Isobel.
Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was
hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the
warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly
turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed
like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on
Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch.
He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing
deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain.
"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded.
At the sound of her voice he relaxed.
"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk
to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching
him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes,
and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A
strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan.
Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a
tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful
blue eyes were looking at him.
"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!"
That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of
the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened,
and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the
night with a crack like a pistol report.
"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!"
The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a
muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe.
"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's
_bad_!"
Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an
instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before,
when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand
to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she
shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the
forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough
manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and
suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of
fear and dislike.
"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make
friends with him?"
She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain.
McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to
Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his
face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting
|
come
|
How many times does the word 'come' appear in the text?
| 0
|
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. PERU - HIGH JUNGLE - DAY
</b>
The dense, lush rain forests of the eastern slopes of the
Andes, the place known as "The Eyebrow of the Jungle". Ragged,
jutting canyon walls are half-hidden by the thick mists.
The MAIN TITLE is followed by this:
<b> PERU
</b><b> 1936
</b>
A narrow trail across the green face of the canyon. A group
of men make their way along it. At the head of the party is
an American, INDIANA JONES. He wears a short leather jacket,
a flapped holster, and a brimmed felt hat with a weird feather
stuck in the band. Behind him come two Spanish Peruvians,
SATIPO and BARRANCA. Bringing up the rear are five Yagua
INDIANS. They act as porters and are wrangling the two heavily-
packed llamas. The Indians become increasingly nervous. They
speak to each other in bursts of Quechua. The American, who
is known to his friends as Indy, glances back at them.
<b> BARRANCA
</b> (irritated)
They're talking about the Curse again!
He turns and yells at the Indians in Quechua, his anger giving
an indication of his own fears. The party reaches a break in
the canyon wall and takes the trail through it.
When they emerge, their destination is revealed to them in
the distance. Beyond a thick stand of trees is the vegetation-
enshrouded TEMPLE OF THE CHACHAPOYAN WARRIORS.
The entire party is struck by the sight. The Indians,
terrified now, chatter away. Suddenly the three at the back
turn and run, dropping their packs as they go. Barranca yells
|
revealed
|
How many times does the word 'revealed' appear in the text?
| 0
|
HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS SOFT COPY.
</b>
<b>BEGIN MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE.</b>
At the very edge of hearing, the tone of human VOICES.
Unintelligible, babbling, eerie. Then a loud FLAPPING SOUND. It
shifts from one side of the theater to the other, like something
moving among the wall hangings.
As the TITLE appears, the noise mounts, drowning out the VOICES,
agitated, becoming violent, banging... inhuman.
<b>FADE IN:</b>
<b> EXT. HOUSING PROJECT, CHARLESTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS - DAY
</b>
ON a housing project in the industrial outskirts of Boston. The
BANGING seems to flutter away, leading us along, searching... to a
tiny balcony, one of dozens, ten stories up. And there, the source
of the sound --
-- A SHEET, snapping in the wind. The umbrella-like clothes line
on which it hangs bangs against a dirty glass door as if trying to
get in.
THROUGH THE GLASS DOOR a woman paces inside, agitated. The VOICES
rise over the banging, becoming intelligible --
<b> INT. LIVING ROOM, NELL'S APARTMENT - DAY
</b>
-- becoming a fight. <b>JANE</b>, 30s, dark-haired, furious, wheels
across a diminutive, neat, but poor living room.
<b> JANE
</b> It'll take a month to probate the
will, Nell! A month! Even if
Mother left you something, you
won't get it in time to pay the
rent. So instead of complaining,
you should be thanking Lou for
getting you these two weeks to get
Mother's things packed.
At first we can't even see who she's yelling at. At first we don't
even notice her. Then we do...
Holding herself, in a dim corner away from the light, small, plain,
like a part of the faded room is <b>ELEANOR VANCE</b>, 20's -- Nell.
She stares at the door. The clothes line raps at the begrimed
glass.
JANE (cont'd)
Nell?
The wind dies, the banging stops. Nell seems to hear Jane and
peers over at her, then across the room to Jane's bored husband,
<b>LOU</b>. He's turning a Franklin Mint commemorative coin set in his
hands, studying it.
<b>
|
banging
|
How many times does the word 'banging' appear in the text?
| 3
|
EXT. OPEN ROADS - NIGHT - TITLE SEQUENCE
</b>
A series of traveling shots. A well-dressed, pompous-looking
individual (JOHN DASHWOOD, 35) is making an urgent journey
on horseback. He looks anxious.
<b> EXT. NORLAND PARK - ENGLAND - MARCH 1800 - NIGHT
</b>
Silence. Norland Park, a large country house built in the
early part of the eighteenth century, lies in the moonlit
parkland.
<b> INT. NORLAND PARK - MR DASHWOOD'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
</b>
In the dim light shed by candles we see a bed in which a MAN
(MR DASHWOOD, 52) lies his skin waxy, his breathing laboured.
Around him two silhouettes move and murmur, their clothing
susurrating in the deathly hush. DOCTORS. A WOMAN (MRS
DASHWOOD, 50) sits by his side, holding his hand, her eyes
never leaving his face.
<b> MR DASHWOOD
</b> (urgent)
Is John not yet arrived?
<b> MRS DASHWOOD
</b> We expect him at any moment, dearest.
MR DASHWOOD looks anguished.
<b> MR DASHWOOD
</b> The girls--I have left so little.
<b> MRS DASHWOOD
</b> Shh, hush, Henry.
<b> MR DASHWOOD
</b> Elinor will try to look after you
all, but make sure she finds a good
husband. The men are such noodles
|
dearest
|
How many times does the word 'dearest' appear in the text?
| 0
|
June 19th 1996
<b> NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS.
</b><b> THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS SOFT COPY.
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> THE SCREEN
</b>
Stygean darkness.
Wet CLICKING SOUNDS. A BEAM of purplish ULTRA-VIOLET LIGHT
reveals a mosaic of moving forms... COCKROACHES. They skitter
restlessly under the beam's intensity. SERIES OF SHOTS -- the
UV Beam passing over various parts of the space. Pipe webs,
walls, girders -- all covered with the insects. Thousands of
them.
<b> PULL BACK TO REVEAL
</b>
<b> INT. SEWER SYSTEM
</b>
Innards of steel. A vast maze of tunnels.
A GROUP OF FIGURES advances through the tunnels with handheld
UV lamps.
The figures are dressed in gray air-tight NEOPRENE SUITS,
their faces hidden by skin tight MASKS and bug-like NIGHT
VISION GOGGLES. In the dense silence, respirator valves HISS-
CLICK at the corner of their lips in mechanical rhythm.
The scene has a dream-like, choreographed quality.
<b> NIGHT-VISION POV
</b>
Eerie, aquatic green. The horde of insects appear to be some
kind of sea-life, crawling over the floor of a dead ocean.
<b> THE TEAM OF FIGURES
</b>
From their midst appears another FIGURE, its neoprene suit a
flat WHITE. Female, clearly the TEAM LEADER.
She carries a stainless steel CONTAINER filled with twenty
small compartments, each bearing a large, heavy-shelled roach
with a different BARCODE on their back.
<b> JUDAS ROACHES.
</b>
She kneels and opens the
<b> CASE
</b>
TCHK!! A dozen of the Judas roaches are released. They slide
through into the area.
<b> THE NEARBY ROACHES
</b>
react instantaneously. In a rustle of tiny legs, they begin
to stream toward the Judases.
Jostle and fight each other for position to mate with them.
They even crawl over the Team Leader in an effort to reach
the Judases. The Team Leader makes no effort to brush them
off. Patient, almost godlike, she watches the MATING.
<b> LATER
</b>
A MANHOLE has been opened above. CHAINS are dropped down and
attached by a Team Member to A 100-GALLON DISPOSAL DRUM.
REVEAL the floor of the tunnel, carpeted with the still forms
of the roaches, now all DEAD.
The Team Members quietly shovel the tiny corpses into other
disposal drums.
|
other
|
How many times does the word 'other' appear in the text?
| 1
|
flames, the other a '66 Thunderbird, speeding along a series
of eerily empty desert roads, somewhere in a wilderness of
sand and heat.
<b> END CREDITS.
</b>
<b> CUT WIDE TO;
</b>
<b> EXT. NEVADA DESERT - DAY
</b>
A violent WIND HOWLS around, but through the sand we-can just
make out a large, ominous building: the HOUSE of William
Nix. Its walls are white-washed and scrawled with GRAFFITI.
The "family" of IDOLS surrounds the doorway, guarding it. ON
SCREEN, the words: '"Nevada - Thirteen Years Ago"
<b> EXT. NIX'S HOUSE - DAY
</b>
We're at the front door now, which stands open. Leaning
against the door-frame is a scrawny, wild-eyed YOUTH, about
sixteen. His name is BUTTERFIELD. He's got a brooding,
almost sultry look on his face. One of his eyes is black,
the other milky blue. He's whittling something with a
scalpel. Distantly, the sound of CAR ENGINES. Butterfield
narrows his eyes.
<b> BUTTERFIELD'S P.O.V.
</b>
The Volkswagen "bus" and Thunderbird are approaching the
house.
<b> BUTTERFIELD
</b> (softly)
Swann...?
He turns from the door. In his haste he drops the WOOD he's
whittling. He's been carving a DEATH'S HEAD.
<b> INT. NIX'S HOUSE - ROOMS AND CORRIDORS - DAY
</b>
The house no longer serves any domestic function. It has
become the temple and dormitory of Nix's small apocalyptic
cult. As we go through the house with Butterfield we glimpse
a little of what life here is like.
The rooms are murky, and chaotic. The walls, PAINTED with
scenes of cities and landscapes BURNING, and creatures from
some unspeakable nightmare ATTACKING, RAPING, and DEVOURING
helpless humanity. The atmosphere is joyless, and
oppressive.
The passages become progressively darker as the boy makes his
way to the heart of the house. Only OIL LAMPS, set on the
floor, light these claustrophobic corridors.
<b> BUTTERFIELD
</b> Master?
<b> INT. NIX'S HOUSE - MEDITATION ROOM - DAY
</b>
A dozen CULTISTS sit cross-legged on the floor in front of
their leader, WILLIAM NIX. His black hair grows to his
shoulders. His eyes are deep and glittering, his voice
seductive. A terrifying yet charismatic presence.
All the Cultists - who are a cross-section of obsessives -
wear the same simple T-shirts, painted with the cult's SIGIL.
They watch Nix in adoration.
As Nix speaks, he juggles a FLAME, passing it from hand to
hand with casual ease...
<b> NIX
</b> And the fire said to me: Nix, Nix,
you're my instrument. From now on,
you'll be called the Puritan...
<b> CULTISTS
</b> (murmuring)
Puritan...
NIX You will find a few good men and women, and together,
together you will cleanse the world.
<b> CULTISTS
</b> Yes...
Butterfield enters.
<b> BUTTERFIELD
</b> Master?
Nix looks up.
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 5
|
SHOOTING DRAFT
</b>
<b> INT. STARBUCKS - 7:30 A.M.
</b>
We're watching a pair of hands arrange white sugar packets,
blue Equal packets, and pink Sweet and Low into small
containers. With precision and lightning speed, the mixed up
colors and crumpled packets are transformed into neat little
color-coded rows. Wait, this container has three Equals and
four Sweet 'n' lows. The hand quickly plucks the mutant
Sweet 'n' Low. There. Symmetry.
We move up those hands and meet SAM DAWSON as he surveys his
domain. Something about him. He's extremely compelling,
uniquely handsome. But it's more than that. Those eyes,
they sparkle with the wonder of a child. Life's cynical edge
has not etched it's path across this face. They light on a
COFFEE CUP held by one of the Regulars.
<b> SAM
</b> Double double decaf low-fat Cap.
<b> BRUCE
</b> You got it, buddy.
<b> SAM
</b> Good choice very good choice.
Sam moves along, commenting to CUSTOMERS as he places Sweet
'n Lows on tables, the self-appointed host of Starbucks.
<b> SAM (CONT'D)
</b> Mocha rumba Frappuccino no whipped, half
low, half non. Excellent choice. Very
good choice.
He stops in front of sale mugs and turns them so that the
logos all face the same way. His boss GEORGE approaches.
<b> GEORGE
</b> Sam, they called. It's time for you to
go.
Sam FREEZES, but doesn't turn around.
<b>
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 1
|
now that we say to ourselves, if we could but once more
come across such a green and wooded resting-place, we would stay there
for the rest of our lives, would pitch our tent there, and there end our
days.
But the body cannot go back and renew its existence, and so memory has
to make its pious pilgrimage alone; back to the early days and fresh
beginnings of life it travels, like those light vessels that are borne
upward by their white sails against the current of a river. Then the
body once more pursues its journey; but the body without memory is as
the night without stars, as the lamp without its flame.... And so body
and memory go their several ways.
The body, with chance for its guide, moves towards the unknown.
Memory, that bright will-oâ-the-wisp, hovers over the land-marks that
are left behind; and memory, we may be sure, will not lose her way.
Every oasis is revisited, every association recalled, and then with a
rapid flight she returns to the body that grows ever more and more
weary, and like the humming of a bee, like the song of a bird, like the
murmur of a stream, tells the tale of all that she has seen.
And as the tired traveller listens, his eyes grow bright again, his
mouth smiles, and a light steals over his face. For Providence in
kindness, seeing that he cannot return to youth, allows youth to return
to him. And ever after he loves to repeat aloud what memory tells, him
in her soft, low voice.
And is our life, then, bounded by a circle like the earth? Do we,
unconsciously, continue to walk towards the spot from which we started?
And as we travel nearer and nearer to the grave, do we again draw
closer, ever closer, to the cradle?
II
I cannot say. But what happened to myself, that much at any rate I know.
At my first halt along the road of life, my first glance backwards, I
began by relating the tale of Bernard and his uncle Berthelin, then the
story of Ange Pitou, his fair _fiancée_, and of Aunt Angélique; after
that I told of Conscience and Mariette; and lastly of Catherine Blum and
Father Vatrin.
I am now going to tell you the story of Thibault and his wolves, and of
the Lord of Vez. And how, you will ask, did I become acquainted with the
events which I am now about to bring before you? I will tell you.
Have you read my _Mémoires_, and do you remember one, by name Mocquet,
who was a friend of my fatherâs?
If you have read them, you will have some vague recollection of this
personage. If you have not read them, you will not remember anything
about him at all.
In either case, then, it is of the first importance that I should bring
Mocquet clearly before your mindâs eye.
As far back as I can remember, that is when I was about three years of
age, we lived, my father and mother and I, in a little Château called
Les Fossés, situated on the boundary that separates the departments of
Aisne and Oise, between Haramont and Longpré. The little house in
question had doubtless been named Les Fossés on account of the deep and
broad moat, filled with water, with which it was surrounded.
I do not mention my sister, for she was at school in Paris, and we only
saw her once a year, when she was home for a monthâs holiday.
The household, apart from my father, mother and myself,
consisted--firstly: of a large black dog, called Truffe, who was a
privileged animal and made welcome wherever he appeared, more especially
as I regularly went about on his back; secondly: of a gardener, named
Pierre, who kept me amply provided with frogs and snakes, two species of
living creatures in which I was particularly interested; thirdly: of a
negro, a valet of my fatherâs, named Hippolyte, a sort of black
merry
|
aloud
|
How many times does the word 'aloud' appear in the text?
| 0
|
American version
By William A. Drake
<b> SHOOTING DRAFT
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> PROLOGUE
</b>
Berlin.
Season is March.
Action of the picture takes place in approximately 36 hours.
Picture commences at approximately 12:35 in the day.
Time: The Present.
<b>
</b>
<b> EXTERIOR REVOLVING DOOR
</b>
Show general natural action of people going in and people
coming out but in it is the definite inference of people
arriving and people leaving the big hotel.
MOVE INSIDE THROUGH THE REVOLVING DOOR -- very quickly. CAMERA
PAUSES ON THE THRESHOLD like a human being, seeing and
hearing.
<b> DISSOLVE OUT.
</b>
DISSOLVE INTO: Clock. It is twenty minutes to one -- and
then moves slowly into the crowd of busy mid-day business
jumble.
CAMERA pushes through crowd and passes by the foot of the
steps that lead up to the restaurant. In its journey, it
passes Kringelein looking up. He is not pointed.
THE CAMERA then saunters -- getting a slow profile movement
across -- near Senf's desk. Senf is very busy. THE CAMERA
now passes -- profile -- the desk of Senf. General action.
Senf stands before his background of slots and keys. WE
PROCEED until we are facing the elevator.
At that moment the elevator is opening. Among the people who
emerge is Suzette, who moves too quickly for us to distinguish
who she is.
THE CAMERA PANS quickly with her and in the distance we hear
her
|
people
|
How many times does the word 'people' appear in the text?
| 4
|
as a recruit, the novelty of it all, the lively bustle of the
metropolis, left him little time for dreaming and only now and then, as
he lay in the calm dawn on his camp bed, a great longing came over him;
the homely mill gleamed through the darkness like a lost Paradise and
the clatter of the wheels sounded in his ears like heavenly music. But
as soon as he heard the trumpet call, the vision passed away.
Martin fared worse at the mill, where he was now quite alone, for he
could not reckon as companions the millhands, or old David, an
inheritance from his father. Friends he had never had either in the
village or elsewhere. Johannes sufficed him and took their place
entirely. He slunk about brooding in silence, his mind ever gloomier,
his thoughts ever darkened, and at last melancholy took such hold of
him that the vision of his victim began to haunt him. He was sensible
enough to know that he could not go on living like this, and forcibly
sought to distract his thoughts--went on Sundays to the village dance
and visited the neighboring hamlets under pretense of trade interests.
But as for the result of all this--well, one fine day at the
commencement of his second year of service, Johannes got a letter from
his brother. It ran as follows:
"My Dear Boy:
"I shall have to write it some time, even though you will be angry with
me. I could not bear my loneliness any longer and have made up my mind
to enter into the matrimonial state. Her name is Gertrude Berling, and
she is the daughter of a wind-miller in Lehnort, two miles from here.
She is very young and I love her very much. The wedding is to be in six
weeks. If you can, get leave of absence for it.
"Dear brother, I beg of you, do not be vexed with me. You know
you will always have a home at the mill whether there is a mistress
there or not. Our fatherly inheritance belongs to us both, in any
case. She sends you her kind regards. You once met each other at a
shooting-match, and she liked you very much, but you took no notice of
her, and she sends you word she was immensely offended with you.
"Farewell,
"Your faithful brother,
"Martin."
Johannes was a very spoiled creature. Martin's engagement appeared to
him as high treason against their brotherly love. He felt as if his
brother had deceived him and meanly deprived him of his due rights.
Henceforth a stranger was to rule where hitherto he alone had been
king, and his position at the mill was to depend on her favor and good
will. Even the friendly message from the wind-miller's daughter did not
calm or appease him. When the day of the wedding came, he took no
leave, but only sent his love and good wishes by his old schoolfellow
Franz Maas, who was just left off from military service.
Six months later he himself was at liberty.
How now, Johannes? We are so obstinate that on no account will we go
home, and prefer to seek our fortune in foreign parts; we roam about,
now to right, now to left, up hill and down hill and rub off our horns,
and when, four weeks later, we come to the conclusion that in spite of
the wind-miller's daughter there is no place in the world like the
Rockhammer mill, we went our way homewards most cheerfully.
One sunny day in May Johannes arrived in Marienfeld.
Franz Mass, who had set up the autumn before as a worthy baker, was
standing, with his legs apart, in front of his shop, looking up
contentedly at the tin "Bretzel" swinging over his door in the gentle
noon-day breeze, when he saw an Uhlan come swaggering down the village
street with his cap cocked to one side and clinking his spurs. His
brave ex-soldier's heart beat quicker under
|
wheels
|
How many times does the word 'wheels' appear in the text?
| 0
|
iv -- Containing infallible nostrums for procuring universal
disesteem and hatred.
Chapter v -- Showing who the amiable lady, and her unamiable maid,
were.
Chapter vi -- Containing, among other things, the ingenuity of
Partridge, the madness of Jones, and the folly of Fitzpatrick.
Chapter vii -- In which are concluded the adventures that happened at
the inn at Upton.
Chapter viii -- In which the history goes backward.
Chapter ix -- The escape of Sophia.
BOOK XI -- CONTAINING ABOUT THREE DAYS.
Chapter i -- A crust for the critics.
Chapter ii -- The adventures which Sophia met with after her leaving
Upton.
Chapter iii -- A very short chapter, in which however is a sun, a
moon, a star, and an angel.
Chapter iv -- The history of Mrs Fitzpatrick.
Chapter v -- In which the history of Mrs Fitzpatrick is continued.
Chapter vi -- In which the mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into
a dreadful consternation.
Chapter vii -- In which Mrs Fitzpatrick concludes her history.
Chapter viii -- A dreadful alarm in the inn, with the arrival of an
unexpected friend of Mrs Fitzpatrick.
Chapter ix -- The morning introduced in some pretty writing. A
stagecoach. The civility of chambermaids. The heroic temper of
Sophia. Her generosity. The return to it. The departure of the
company, and their arrival at London; with some remarks for the use of
travellers.
Chapter x -- Containing a hint or two concerning virtue, and a few
more concerning suspicion.
BOOK XII -- CONTAINING THE SAME INDIVIDUAL TIME WITH THE FORMER.
Chapter i -- Showing what is to be deemed plagiarism in a modern
author, and what is to be considered as lawful prize.
Chapter ii -- In which, though the squire doth not find his daughter,
something is found which puts an end to his pursuit.
Chapter iii -- The departure of Jones from Upton, with what passed
between him and Partridge on the road.
Chapter iv -- The adventure of a beggar-man.
Chapter v -- Containing more adventures which Mr Jones and his
companion met on the road.
Chapter vi -- From which it may be inferred that the best things are
liable to be misunderstood and misinterpreted.
Chapter vii -- Containing a remark or two of our own and many more of
the good company assembled in the kitchen.
Chapter viii -- In which fortune seems to have been in a better humour
with Jones than we have hitherto seen her.
Chapter ix -- Containing little more than a few odd observations.
Chapter x -- In which Mr Jones and Mr Dowling drink a bottle together.
Chapter xi -- The disasters which befel Jones on his departure for
Coventry; with the sage remarks of Partridge.
Chapter xii -- Relates that Mr Jones continued his journey, contrary
to the advice of Partridge, with what happened on that occasion.
Chapter xiii -- A dialogue between Jones and Partridge.
Chapter xiv -- What happened to Mr Jones in his journey from St
Albans.
BOOK XIII -- CONTAINING THE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS.
Chapter i -- An Invocation.
Chapter ii -- What befel Mr Jones on his arrival in London.
Chapter iii -- A project of Mrs Fitzpatrick, and her visit to Lady
Bellaston.
Chapter iv -- Which consists of visiting.
Chapter v -- An adventure which happened to Mr Jones at his lodgings,
with some account of a young gentleman who lodged there, and of the
mistress of the house, and her two daughters.
Chapter vi -- What arrived while the company were at breakfast, with
some hints concerning the government of daughters.
Chapter vii -- Containing the whole humours of a masquerade.
Chapter viii -- Containing a scene of distress, which will appear very
extraordinary to most of our readers.
Chapter ix -- Which treats of matters of a very different kind from
those in the preceding chapter.
Chapter x -- A chapter which, though short, may draw tears from some
eyes.
Chapter xi -- In which the reader will be surprized.
Chapter xii -- In which the thirteenth book is concluded
|
fitzpatrick
|
How many times does the word 'fitzpatrick' appear in the text?
| 5
|
February 19, 2010
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> 1 INT. FRENCH RESTAURANT (PASADENA, CA) - EVENING 1
</b>
Soft music. A classy joint. Below the tables, WE PAN
well-heeled feet nuzzling. Finally we SETTLE ON:
<b> A PAIR OF FEET
</b>
WHITE SNEAKERS sitting opposite FANCY HIGH HEELS. These
feet aren't nuzzling. There's distance here.
PULL UP, REVEALING CAL WEAVER (42) and his wife, TRACY
(41). A handsome couple. He'd be JFK to her Jackie O...
if he gave a shit. Unfortunately, he doesn't (i.e.:
white sneakers in fancy French restaurant).
Cal pulls out READING GLASSES, looks at the menu.
<b> CAL
</b> Well, I'm full. You were right,
hon. I shouldn't have eaten all
that bread.
<b> (THEN)
</b> Want to just share a dessert?
Tracy is lost in thought, gazing at a menu.
<b> CAL
</b> You okay, babe? You seem out of
it.
<b> TRACY
</b> Yeah, I'm just thinking about what
I want.
<b>
|
feet
|
How many times does the word 'feet' appear in the text?
| 2
|
them, and shares with them till
he undoes them. A lewd, impudent, debauched fellow, very expert in the
cant about town.
âShamwell, cousin to the Belfords, who, being ruined by Cheatly, is made
a decoy-duck for others, not daring to stir out of Alsatia, where he
lives. Is bound with Cheatly for heirs, and lives upon them a dissolute
debauched life.
âCaptain Hackum, a blockheaded bully of Alsatia, a cowardly, impudent,
blustering fellow, formerly a sergeant in Flanders, who has run from his
colours, and retreated into Whitefriars for a very small debt, where by
the Alsatians he is dubb'd a captain, marries one that lets lodgings,
sells cherry-brandy, and is a bawd.
âScrapeall a hypocritical, repeating, praying, psalm-singing, precise
fellow, pretending to great piety; a godly knave, who joins with
Cheatly, and supplies young heirs with goods, and money.â--Dramatis
Personae to the Squire of Alsatia, SHADWELL'S Works, vol. iv.] The play,
as we learn from the dedication to the Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, was
successful above the author's expectations, âno comedy these many years
having filled the theatre so long together. And I had the great honour,â
continues Shadwell, âto find so many friends, that the house was never
so full since it was built as upon the third day of this play, and vast
numbers went away that could not be admitted.â [Footnote: Dedication to
the Squire of Alsatia, Shadwell's Works, vol. iv.] From the Squire of
Alsatia the author derived some few hints, and learned the footing
on which the bullies and thieves of the Sanctuary stood with their
neighbours, the fiery young students of the Temple, of which some
intimation is given in the dramatic piece.
Such are the materials to which the author stands indebted for the
composition of the Fortunes of Nigel, a novel, which may be perhaps one
of those that are more amusing on a second perusal, than when read a
first time for the sake of the story, the incidents of which are few and
meagre.
The Introductory Epistle is written, in Lucio's phrase, âaccording
to the trick,â and would never have appeared had the writer meditated
making his avowal of the work. As it is the privilege of a masque or
incognito to speak in a feigned voice and assumed character, the author
attempted, while in disguise, some liberties of the same sort; and while
he continues to plead upon the various excuses which the introduction
contains, the present acknowledgment must serve as an apology for a
species of âhoity toity, whisky friskyâ pertness of manner, which, in
his avowed character, the author should have considered as a departure
from the rules of civility and good taste.
ABBOTSFORD.
1st July, 1831.
INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE
CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK TO THE REVEREND DR. DRYASDUST
DEAR SIR,
I readily accept of, and reply to the civilities with which you have
been pleased to honour me in your obliging letter, and entirely agree
with your quotation, of _âQuam bonum et quam jucundum!â_ We may indeed
esteem ourselves as come of the same family, or, according to our
country proverb, as being all one man's bairns; and there needed no
apology on your part, reverend and dear sir, for demanding of me any
information which I may be able to supply respecting the subject of your
curiosity. The interview which you allude to took place in the course
of last winter, and is so deeply imprinted on my recollection, that it
requires no effort to collect all
|
which
|
How many times does the word 'which' appear in the text?
| 9
|
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