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, the big
one with a beard. When we pulled him in he groaned, "Oh, my leg! oh,
my leg!" and turned up his eyes. Fancy such a big chap fainting like
a girl. Would any of you fellows faint for a jab with a boat-hook?--I
wouldn't. It went into his leg so far.' He showed the boat-hook, which
he had carried below for the purpose, and produced a sensation. 'No,
silly! It was not his flesh that held him--his breeches did. Lots of
blood, of course.'
Jim thought it a pitiful display of vanity. The gale had ministered to
a heroism as spurious as its own pretence of terror. He felt angry with
the brutal tumult of earth and sky for taking him unawares and checking
unfairly a generous readiness for narrow escapes. Otherwise he was
rather glad he had not gone into the cutter, since a lower achievement
had served the turn. He had enlarged his knowledge more than those who
had done the work. When all men flinched, then--he felt sure--he alone
would know how to deal with the spurious menace of wind and seas. He
knew what to think of it. Seen dispassionately, it seemed contemptible.
He could detect no trace of emotion in himself, and the final effect of
a staggering event was that, unnoticed and apart from the noisy crowd of
boys, he exulted with fresh certitude in his avidity for adventure, and
in a sense of many-sided courage.
CHAPTER 2
After two years of training he went to sea, and entering the regions so
well known to his imagination, found them strangely barren of adventure.
He made many voyages. He knew the magic monotony of existence between
sky and water: he had to bear the criticism of men, the exactions of the
sea, and the prosaic severity of the daily task that gives bread--but
whose only reward is in the perfect love of the work. This reward eluded
him. Yet he could not go back, because there is nothing more enticing,
disenchanting, and enslaving than the life at sea. Besides, his
prospects were good. He was gentlemanly, steady, tractable, with a
thorough knowledge of his duties; and in time, when yet very young, he
became chief mate of a fine ship, without ever having been tested by
those events of the sea that show in the light of day the inner worth of
a man, the edge of his temper, and the fibre of his stuff; that reveal
the quality of his resistance and the secret truth of his pretences, not
only to others but also to himself.
Only once in all that time he had again a glimpse of the earnestness in
the anger of the sea. That truth is not so often made apparent as people
might think. There are many shades in the danger of adventures and
gales, and it is only now and then that there appears on the face of
facts a sinister violence of intention--that indefinable something which
forces it upon the mind and the heart of a man, that this complication
of accidents or these elemental furies are coming at him with a purpose
of malice, with a strength beyond control, with an unbridled cruelty
that means to tear out of him his hope and his fear, the pain of his
fatigue and his longing for rest: which means to smash, to destroy, to
annihilate all he has seen, known, loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is
priceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which
means to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by
the simple and appalling act of taking his life.
Jim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his
Scottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle
to me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,
dazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as if at the bottom of an
abyss of unrest. He did not care what the end would be, and in his lucid
moments overvalued his indifference. The danger, when not seen, has
the imperfect vagueness of human thought. The fear grows shadowy; and
Imagination, the enemy of men, the father of all terrors, unstimulated,
sinks to rest in the dull
|
would
|
How many times does the word 'would' appear in the text?
| 3
|
see poor bodies
coming to him for charity continually; and they say that his sermons at
Holy Cross are excellent."
Sheffield said he liked people to be natural, and hated that donnish
manner. What good could it do? and what did it mean?
"That is what I call bigotry," answered Charles; "I am for taking every
one for what he is, and not for what he is not: one has this excellence,
another that; no one is everything. Why should we not drop what we don't
like, and admire what we like? This is the only way of getting through
life, the only true wisdom, and surely our duty into the bargain."
Sheffield thought this regular prose, and unreal. "We must," he said,
"have a standard of things, else one good thing is as good as another.
But I can't stand here all day," he continued, "when we ought to be
walking." And he took off Charles's cap, and, placing his hat on him
instead, said, "Come, let us be going."
"Then must I give up my meadow?" said Charles.
"Of course you must," answered Sheffield; "you must take a beaver walk.
I want you to go as far as Oxley, a village some little way out, all
the vicars of which, sooner or later, are made bishops. Perhaps even
walking there may do us some good."
The friends set out, from hat to boot in the most approved Oxford
bandbox-cut of trimness and prettiness. Sheffield was turning into the
High Street, when Reding stopped him: "It always annoys me," he said,
"to go down High Street in a beaver; one is sure to meet a proctor."
"All those University dresses are great fudge," answered Sheffield; "how
are we the better for them? They are mere outside, and nothing else.
Besides, our gown is so hideously ugly."
"Well, I don't go along with your sweeping condemnation," answered
Charles; "this is a great place, and should have a dress. I declare,
when I first saw the procession of Heads at St. Mary's, it was quite
moving. First----"
"Of course the pokers," interrupted Sheffield.
"First the organ, and every one rising; then the Vice-Chancellor in red,
and his bow to the preacher, who turns to the pulpit; then all the Heads
in order; and lastly the Proctors. Meanwhile, you see the head of the
preacher slowly mounting up the steps; when he gets in, he shuts-to the
door, looks at the organ-loft to catch the psalm, and the voices strike
up."
Sheffield laughed, and then said, "Well, I confess I agree with you in
your instance. The preacher is, or is supposed to be, a person of
talent; he is about to hold forth; the divines, the students of a great
University, are all there to listen. The pageant does but fitly
represent the great moral fact which is before us; I understand _this_.
I don't call _this_ fudge; what I mean by fudge is, outside without
inside. Now I must say, the sermon itself, and not the least of all the
prayer before it--what do they call it?"
"The bidding prayer," said Reding.
"Well, both sermon and prayer are often arrant fudge. I don't often go
to University sermons, but I have gone often enough not to go again
without compulsion. The last preacher I heard was from the country. Oh,
it was wonderful! He began at the pitch of his voice, 'Ye shall pray.'
What stuff! 'Ye shall _pray_;' because old Latimer or Jewell said, 'Ye
shall praie,' therefore we must not say, 'Let us pray.' Presently he
brought out," continued Sheffield, assuming a pompous and up-and-down
tone, "'especially for that pure and apostolic branch of it
_established_,'--here the man rose on his toes, '_established_ in these
dominions.' Next came, 'for our Sovereign Lady Victoria, Queen, Defender
of the Faith, in all causes and over all persons, ecclesiastical as well
as civil, within these her dominions, _supreme_'--an awful
|
university
|
How many times does the word 'university' appear in the text?
| 2
|
the names of the men who had relieved them. Backing
up to the pilot-house, the officer repeated the names to a quartermaster
within, who entered them in the log-book. Then the men vanished--to
their coffee and "watch-below." In a few moments another dripping shape
appeared on the bridge and reported the crow's-nest relief.
"Rowland, you say?" bawled the officer above the howling of the wind.
"Is he the man who was lifted aboard, drunk, yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is he still drunk?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right--that'll do. Enter Rowland in the crow's-nest,
quartermaster," said the officer; then, making a funnel of his hands, he
roared out: "Crow's-nest, there."
"Sir," came the answer, shrill and clear on the gale.
"Keep your eyes open--keep a sharp lookout."
"Very good, sir."
"Been a man-o'-war's-man, I judge, by his answer. They're no good,"
muttered the officer. He resumed his position at the forward side of the
bridge where the wooden railing afforded some shelter from the raw wind,
and began the long vigil which would only end when the second officer
relieved him, four hours later. Conversation--except in the line of
duty--was forbidden among the bridge officers of the _Titan_, and his
watchmate, the third officer, stood on the other side of the large
bridge binnacle, only leaving this position occasionally to glance in at
the compass--which seemed to be his sole duty at sea. Sheltered by one
of the deck-houses below, the boatswain and the watch paced back and
forth, enjoying the only two hours respite which steamship rules
afforded, for the day's work had ended with the going down of the other
watch, and at two o'clock the washing of the 'tween-deck would begin, as
an opening task in the next day's labor.
By the time one bell had sounded, with its repetition from the
crow's-nest, followed by a long-drawn cry--"all's well"--from the
lookouts, the last of the two thousand passengers had retired, leaving
the spacious cabins and steerage in possession of the watchmen; while,
sound asleep in his cabin abaft the chart-room was the captain, the
commander who never commanded--unless the ship was in danger; for the
pilot had charge, making and leaving port, and the officers, at sea.
Two bells were struck and answered; then three, and the boatswain and
his men were lighting up for a final smoke, when there rang out overhead
a startling cry from the crow's-nest:
"Something ahead, sir--can't make it out."
The first officer sprang to the engine-room telegraph and grasped the
lever. "Sing out what you see," he roared.
"Hard aport, sir--ship on the starboard tack--dead ahead," came the cry.
"Port your wheel--hard over," repeated the first officer to the
quartermaster at the helm--who answered and obeyed. Nothing as yet could
be seen from the bridge. The powerful steering-engine in the stern
ground the rudder over; but before three degrees on the compass card
were traversed by the lubber's-point, a seeming thickening of the
darkness and fog ahead resolved itself into the square sails of a
deep-laden ship, crossing the _Titan's_ bow, not half her length away.
"H--l and d--" growled the first officer. "Steady on your course,
quartermaster," he shouted. "Stand from under on deck." He turned a
lever which closed compartments, pushed a button marked--"Captain's
Room," and crouched down, awaiting the crash.
There was hardly a crash. A slight jar shook the forward end of the
_Titan_ and sliding down her fore-topmast-stay and rattling on deck came
a shower of small spars, sails, blocks, and wire rope. Then, in the
darkness to starboard and port, two darker shapes shot by--the two
halves of the ship she had cut through; and from one of these shapes
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 1
|
Darkness. Then the GLINT of a flashlight. Its beam rocks
crazily to and fro across the inside of a small storage room
as we hear two children arguing.
<b> OLDER KID
</b> You're doing it wrong.
<b> YOUNGER KID
</b> Shut up.
<b> OLDER KID
</b> You're doing it wrong.
It's hard, but we get a sense of the room in the whipping
beam of light. Huge, dark coats lined up like sides of beef
on steel batons. Bent, stained helmets hung like African
masks.
Beneath them BRIAN, 7, and STEPHEN, 12, are trying to struggle
into a pair of the ludicrously massive coats over their
pajamas.
<b> STEPHEN
</b> It doesn't go like that.
<b> BRIAN
</b> Who asked you?
<b> STEPHEN
</b> If you do it like that it'll open in
the fire. Then you'll get burned and
<b> DIE.
</b>
The door suddenly opens, morning sunlight roaring in. It's a
fire station storage room full of fire gear. A fireman stands
in the doorway, tall, athletic, their father; DENNIS
McCAFFREY.
<b> DENNIS
</b>
|
older
|
How many times does the word 'older' appear in the text?
| 1
|
iles embark as passengers on
these rafts of flowers; and the brilliant colony, unfolding to the wind
its golden sails, glides along slumberingly till it arrives at some
retired creek in the river.
The two shores of the Mississippi present the most extraordinary
picture. On the western border vast savannahs spread away farther than
the eye can reach, and their waves of verdure, as they recede, appear
to rise gradually into the azure sky, where they fade away. In these
limitless meadows herds of three or four thousand wild buffaloes wander
at random. Sometimes, cleaving the waters as it swims, a bison, laden
with years, comes to repose among the high grass on an island of the
Mississippi, its forehead ornamented with two crescents, and its ancient
and slimy beard giving it the appearance of a god of the river throwing
an eye of satisfaction upon the grandeur of its waters, and the wild
abundance of its shores.
[Illustration: 013]
Such is the scene upon the western border; but it changes on the
opposite side, which forms an admirable contrast with the other shore.
Suspended along the course of the waters, grouped upon the rocks and
upon the mountains, and dispersed in the valleys, trees of every
form, of every color, and of every perfume, throng and grow together,
stretching up into the air to heights that weary the eye to follow. Wild
vines, bignonias, coloquintidas, intertwine each other at the feet of
these trees, escalade their trunks, and creep along to the extremity of
their branches, stretching from the maple to the tulip-tree, from the
tulip-tree to the holly-hock, and thus forming thousands of grottoes,
arches and porticoes. Often, in their wanderings from tree to tree,
these creepers cross the arm of a river, over which they throw a bridge
of flowers. Out of the midst of these masses, the magnolia, raising
its motionless cone, surmounted by large white buds, commands all the
forest, where it has no other rival than the palm-tree, which gently
waves, close by, its fans of verdure.
A multitude of animals, placed in these retreats by the hand of the
Creator, spread about life and enchantment. From the extremities of the
avenues may be seen bears, intoxicated with the grape, staggering
upon the branches of the elm-trees; cariboos bathe in the lake;
black-squirrels play among the thick foliage; mocking-birds, and
Virginian pigeons not bigger than sparrows, fly down upon the turf,
reddened with strawberries; green parrots with yellow heads, purple
woodpeckers, cardinals red as fire, clamber up to the very tops of the
cypress-trees; humming-birds sparkle upon the jessamine of the Floridas;
and bird-catching serpents hiss while suspended to the domes of the
woods, where they swing about like the creepers themselves.
If all is silence and repose in the savannahs on the other side of the
river, all here, on the contrary, is sound and motion; peckings against
the trunks of the oaks, frictions of animals walking along as they
nibble or crush between their teeth the stones of fruits, the roaring of
the waves, plaintive cries, dull bellowings and mild cooings, fill these
deserts with a tender yet wild harmony. But when a breeze happens to
animate these solitudes, to swing these floating bodies, to confound
these masses of white, blue, green, and pink, to mix all the colors and
to combine all the murmurs, there issue such sounds from the depths of
the forests, and such things pass before the eyes, that I should in
vain endeavor to describe them to those who have never visited these
primitive fields of Nature.
After the discovery of the Mississippi by Father Marquette and the
unfortunate La Salle, the first Frenchmen who established themselves at
Biloxi and at New Orleans entered into an alliance with the Natchez, an
Indian nation whose power was redoubtable in those countries. Quarrels
and jealousies subsequently ensanguined the land of hospitality. Amongst
these savages
|
their
|
How many times does the word 'their' appear in the text?
| 4
|
ed,
rocky pass (called, in Somersetshire, a Combe), which here cleft its way
through the hills that closed the prospect. A winding strip of road was
visible, at no great distance, amid the undulations of the open ground;
and along this strip the stalwart figure of Mr. Vanstone was now
easily recognizable, returning to the house from his morning walk. He
flourished his stick gayly, as he observed his eldest daughter at the
window. She nodded and waved her hand in return, very gracefully and
prettily--but with something of old-fashioned formality in her manner,
which looked strangely in so young a woman, and which seemed out of
harmony with a salutation addressed to her father.
The hall-clock struck the adjourned breakfast-hour. When the minute hand
had recorded the lapse of five minutes more a door banged in the bedroom
regions--a clear young voice was heard singing blithely--light, rapid
footsteps pattered on the upper stairs, descended with a jump to the
landing, and pattered again, faster than ever, down the lower flight.
In another moment the youngest of Mr. Vanstone's two daughters (and two
only surviving children) dashed into view on the dingy old oaken stairs,
with the suddenness of a flash of light; and clearing the last three
steps into the hall at a jump, presented herself breathless in the
breakfast-room to make the family circle complete.
By one of those strange caprices of Nature, which science leaves still
unexplained, the youngest of Mr. Vanstone's children presented no
recognizable resemblance to either of her parents. How had she come by
her hair? how had she come by her eyes? Even her father and mother had
asked themselves those questions, as she grew up to girlhood, and
had been sorely perplexed to answer them. Her hair was of that purely
light-brown hue, unmixed with flaxen, or yellow, or red--which is
oftener seen on the plumage of a bird than on the head of a human being.
It was soft and plentiful, and waved downward from her low forehead
in regular folds--but, to some tastes, it was dull and dead, in its
absolute want of glossiness, in its monotonous purity of plain light
color. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were just a shade darker than her
hair, and seemed made expressly for those violet-blue eyes, which assert
their most irresistible charm when associated with a fair complexion.
But it was here exactly that the promise of her face failed of
performance in the most startling manner. The eyes, which should have
been dark, were incomprehensibly and discordantly light; they were of
that nearly colorless gray which, though little attractive in itself,
possesses the rare compensating merit of interpreting the finest
gradations of thought, the gentlest changes of feeling, the deepest
trouble of passion, with a subtle transparency of expression which no
darker eyes can rival. Thus quaintly self-contradictory in the upper
part of her face, she was hardly less at variance with established ideas
of harmony in the lower. Her lips had the true feminine delicacy of
form, her cheeks the lovely roundness and smoothness of youth--but the
mouth was too large and firm, the chin too square and massive for her
sex and age. Her complexion partook of the pure monotony of tint which
characterized her hair--it was of the same soft, warm, creamy fairness
all over, without a tinge of color in the cheeks, except on occasions
of unusual bodily exertion or sudden mental disturbance. The whole
countenance--so remarkable in its strongly opposed characteristics--was
rendered additionally striking by its extraordinary mobility. The large,
electric, light-gray eyes were hardly ever in repose; all varieties of
expression followed each other over the plastic, ever-changing face,
with a giddy rapidity which left sober analysis far behind in the race.
The girl's exuberant vitality asserted itself all over her, from head to
foot. Her figure--taller than her sister's, taller than the average of
woman's height; instinct with such a seductive, serpentine suppleness,
so lightly and playfully graceful, that its movements suggested, not
unnaturally, the movements of a young cat--her figure was so perfectly
developed already that no one who saw her could have supposed that she
was only eighteen
|
downward
|
How many times does the word 'downward' appear in the text?
| 0
|
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. CONFERENCE ROOM
</b><b>
</b> A dozen or so shadowy people are seated in the darkened room.
A slide projector dimly lights MR. FULLER, a crew-cutted
Robert Stack type in a suit, as he addresses the group. The
current slide is a still from a security video of a blurry
figure - it could be any of about a billion people.
<b>
</b><b> FULLER
</b> ...So, let's keep a steely eye out
for this bastard. (THEN) Before we
dismiss, this is your monthly
reminder of why we're here.
<b>
</b> Fuller advances to a slide of the American flag. Close on
one of the group - a heavyset bald man in his mid-thirties.
He politely pays close attention to the presentation.
<b>
</b><b> FULLER (CONT'D)
</b> The American people want to travel.
(Slide: Family in front of a fake
dinosaur) They want to attend
baseball contests (Slide: Fat guys
spilling beers as they go for a
foul ball) and popular music
concerts. (Slide: John Tesh)
<b>
</b> Close on another face in the group. A doughy man with three-
day scruff and a trendily long haircut. He looks bored,
rolling his eyes at the speech.
<b>
</b><b> FULLER (CONT'D)
</b> They want to be happy. (Slide: People
line dancing) But, Security comes
first. (Slide: Army soldier with a
|
fuller
|
How many times does the word 'fuller' appear in the text?
| 4
|
I love her, I feel.
Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.
Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she
should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me.
I will die in it at the stake.
Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of
beauty.
Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his
will.
Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me
up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have
a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible
baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them
the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust
none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I will
live a bachelor.
Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with
love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get
again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen
and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of
blind Cupid.
Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt
prove a notable argument.
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and
he that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and call'd
Adam.
Pedro. Well, as time shall try.
'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'
Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear
it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and
let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write
'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign
'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'
Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.
Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou
wilt quake for this shortly.
Bene. I look for an earthquake too then.
Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime,
good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him and
tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made
great preparation.
Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and
so I commit you--
Claud. To the tuition of God. From my house--if I had it--
Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick.
Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is
sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly
basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine
your conscience. And so I leave you. Exit.
Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me good.
Pedro. My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
Claud.O my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the
|
ever
|
How many times does the word 'ever' appear in the text?
| 4
|
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
|
they
|
How many times does the word 'they' appear in the text?
| 4
|
CUT TO:
</b>
<b>CREDIT. POLYGRAM & WORKING TITLE PRESENT.
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. BOARD ROOM - DAY
</b>
The scene is as silent and static as we left it Last... then:
<b> GARETH
</b> I suppose we could just sack him.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. MR BEAN'S STREET. DAY
</b>
Mr BEAN comes out of his house, ready to face the world-
He walks up the street, tutting slightly at a 'NO PARKING' sign he passes.
The street is totally car-free except for a very visible lime green mini. A
policeman strolls by and glances down at a pair of legs sticking out from
under it, next to a toolbox. He moves on, satisfied that someone is mending
their car.
BEAN approaches the car and whips out the fake legs he left there. He then
unlocks the big padlock that secures the car door, pops the fake legs inside,
fiddles with something else in the back seat, and drives away at a frightening
speed with a smug look on his face.
The Theme Music - big and dramatic - begins, as do the rest of the credits.
BEAN gaily motors on - then unexpectedly the sweeping theme tune jumps, as if
it has hit a scratch: the cinema audience should be worried there's a sound
fault.
BEAN comes to a street full of sleeping policemen ~ he goes at them at quite a
lick - and every time he shoots over one of the bumps, the theme tune jumps
violently.
BEAN looks a little annoyed into the back seat - we now see the cause of the
problem. Instead of having a car radio, BEAN has an old record player
strapped into the back seat, playing the theme tune.
On he drives, through empty streets - then JOLT - he's reached the glorious
familiarity of Central London, Big Ben and all - but heels now in dreadful
traffic.
Heels not happy. He looks to the left and sees a very thin alleyway. He
takes out a metal comb from his pocket and, using it like a bomber's sight-
line-checker, measures the front of his car and the width of the alley. He 'S
<b>
</b>satisfied - does a 90-degree turn - and shoots down the alley. It is such a
perfect fit that sparks fly from the door handles as they graze the walls.
But at the end of the alley, the traffic's just as bad. BEAN notices he's
outside Harrods. There's a tail-coated Security Guard at the 'front door.
BEAN watches him stroll a bit down the street - and takes his chance. He
turns and drives straight through the double doors, into
|
comes
|
How many times does the word 'comes' appear in the text?
| 1
|
1
</b>
<b> INT KITTREDGE'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM DAWN
</b> JOHN FLANDERS KITTREDGE and LOUISA KITTREDGE ("FLAN" and
"OUISA") , an attractive couple in their 40s, in their night
clothes are in an uncharacteristic state of shock.
Some sort of horrible disaster has happened to them.
THEY survey their living room which under normal
circumstances would appear to be a serene haven.
But why are they-so aghast? And terrified?
Has the apartment been violated?
The Fifth Avenue apartment, red and cozy, threadbare with
the legacy of years of kids and dogs running in and out, is
filled with beautiful objects chosen with care. Even though
the apartment is 19th Century in feel, a lot of modern
paintings hang on the walls.
No. No visible disaster here.
But then why FLAN and OUISA's emotional state? THEY run
between the hall and the living room.
<b> OUISA
</b> Is anything gone?
OUISA opens the front closet with trepidation. But nothing
leaps out. SHE sees a mink is still there..
<b> FLAW
</b> How can I look? I'm shaking.
<b> OUISA
</b> My god! The Kandinsky!
0UISA runs into the living room. SHE can see by the
discoloration on that wall that a painting is missing.
<b> OUISA Y
</b> It's gone! Call the police!
<b> FLAN
</b> There it is!
An early abstract painting by Kandinsky leans against a
Philadelphia Chippendale chair: the painting is wild and
brilliantly colored.
<b> 0UISA
</b> Thank god!
SHE picks the painting up and flips it around. It's a double
sided painting. The artist, Kandinsky, had painted in
different styles on either side of the canvas.
|
flan
|
How many times does the word 'flan' appear in the text?
| 2
|
ouncer--this is, by several
degrees, too bad! I had a whole box full, three days ago, and now
there's only one! I'm perfectly aware that she purloins my coals and
my candles, and my sugar--but I did think--oh, yes, I did think that
my lucifers would be sacred! [_Takes candlestick off the mantel-piece,
R., in which there is a very small end of candle--looks at it._] Now I
should like to ask any unprejudiced person or persons their opinion
touching this candle. In the first place, a candle is an article that
I don't require, because I'm only at home in the day time--and I
bought this candle on the first of May--Chimney-sweepers'
Day--calculating that it would last me three months, and here's one
week not half over, and the candle three parts gone! [_Lights the
fire--then takes down a gridiron, which is hanging over the fireplace,
R._] Mrs. Bouncer has been using my gridiron! The last article of
consumption that I cooked upon it was a pork chop, and now it is
powerfully impregnated with the odour of red herrings! [_Places
gridiron on fire, and then, with a fork, lays rasher of bacon on the
gridiron._] How sleepy I am, to be sure! I'd indulge myself with a
nap, if there was anybody here to superintend the turning of my bacon.
[_Yawning again._] Perhaps it will turn itself. I must lie down--so,
here goes. [_Lies on the bed, closing the curtains round him--after a
short pause--_
_Enter COX, hurriedly, L. C._
COX. Well, wonders will never cease! Conscious of being eleven minutes
and a half behind time, I was sneaking into the shop, in a state of
considerable excitement, when my venerable employer, with a smile of
extreme benevolence on his aged countenance, said to me--"Cox, I
shan't want you to-day--you can have a holiday."--Thoughts of
"Gravesend and back--fare, One Shilling," instantly suggested
themselves, intermingled with visions of "Greenwich for Fourpence!"
Then came the Twopenny Omnibuses, and the Halfpenny boats--in short,
I'm quite bewildered! However, I must have my breakfast first--that'll
give me time to reflect. I've bought a mutton chop, so I shan't want
any dinner. [_Puts chop on table._] Good gracious! I've forgot the
bread. Holloa! what's this? A roll, I declare! Come, that's lucky!
Now, then, to light the fire. Holloa--[_Seeing the lucifer-box on
table,_]--who presumes to touch my box of lucifers? Why, it's empty! I
left one in it--I'll take my oath I did. Heydey! why, the fire _is_
lighted! Where's the gridiron? _On_ the fire, I declare! And what's
that on it? Bacon? Bacon it is! Well, now, 'pon my life, there is a
quiet coolness about Mrs. Bouncer's proceedings that's almost amusing.
She takes my last lucifer--my coals, and my gridiron, to cook her
breakfast by! No, no--I can't stand this! Come out of that! [_Pokes
fork into bacon, and puts it on a plate on the table, then places his
chop on the gridiron, which he puts on the fire._] Now, then, for my
breakfast things. [_Taking key, hung up, L., opens door L. and goes
out, slamming the door after him, with a loud noise._
BOX. [_Suddenly showing his head from behind the curtains._] Come in!
if it's you, Mrs. Bouncer--you needn't be afraid. I wonder how long
I've been asleep? [_Suddenly recollecting._] Goodness gracious--my
bacon! [_Leaps off bed, and runs to the fireplace._] Holloa! what's
this? A chop! Whose chop
|
door
|
How many times does the word 'door' appear in the text?
| 1
|
"It is, father. A granite trough that floats on the water like a cork
is a miraculous trough. There is not the slightest doubt about it. What
conclusion do you draw from that?"
"I am greatly perplexed. Is it right to perfect so miraculous a machine
by human and natural means?"
"Father, if you lost your right foot and God restored it to you, would
not that foot be miraculous?"
"Without doubt, my son."
"Would you put a shoe on it?"
"Assuredly."
"Well, then, if you believe that one may cover a miraculous foot with a
natural shoe, you should also believe that we can put natural rigging
on a miraculous boat. That is clear. Alas! Why must the holiest persons
have their moments of weakness and despondency? The most illustrious of
the apostles of Brittany could accomplish works worthy of eternal glory
. . . But his spirit is tardy and his hand is slothful. Farewell then,
father! Travel by short and slow stages and when at last you approach
the coast of Hoedic you will see the smoking ruins of the chapel that
was built and consecrated by your own hands. The pagans will have burned
it and with it the deacon you left there. He will be as thoroughly
roasted as a black pudding."
"My trouble is extreme," said the servant of God, drying with his sleeve
the sweat that gathered upon his brow. "But tell me, Samson, my son,
would not rigging this stone trough be a difficult piece of work? And if
we undertook it might we not lose time instead of gaining it?"
"Ah! father," exclaimed the Devil, "in one turning of the hour-glass the
thing would be done. We shall find the necessary rigging in this shed
that you have formerly built here on the coast and in those store-houses
abundantly stocked through your care. I will myself regulate all the
ship's fittings. Before being a monk I was a sailor and a carpenter and
I have worked at many other trades as well. Let us to work."
Immediately he drew the holy man into an outhouse filled with all things
needful for fitting out a boat.
"That for you, father!"
And he placed on his shoulders the sail, the mast, the gaff, and the
boom.
Then, himself bearing a stem and a rudder with its screw and tiller, and
seizing a carpenter's bag full of tools, he ran to the shore, dragging
the holy man after him by his habit. The latter was bent, sweating, and
breathless, under the burden of canvas and wood.
IV. ST. MAEL'S NAVIGATION ON THE OCEAN OF ICE
The Devil, having tucked his clothes up to his arm-pits, dragged the
trough on the sand, and fitted the rigging in less than an hour.
As soon as the holy Mael had embarked, the vessel, with all its sails
set, cleft through the waters with such speed that the coast was almost
immediately out of sight. The old man steered to the south so as to
double the Land's End, but an irresistible current carried him to the
south-west. He went along the southern coast of Ireland and turned
sharply towards the north. In the evening the wind freshened. In vain
did Mael attempt to furl the sail. The vessel flew distractedly towards
the fabulous seas.
By the light of the moon the immodest sirens of the North came around
him with their hempen-coloured hair, raising their white throats and
their rose-tinted limbs out of the sea; and beating the water into foam
with their emerald tails, they sang in cadence:
Whither go'st thou, gentle Mael,
In thy trough distracted?
All distended is thy sail
Like the breast of Juno
When from it gushed the Milky Way.
For a moment their harmonious laughter followed him beneath the stars,
but the vessel fled on, a hundred times more swiftly than the red ship
of a Viking. And the petrels, surprised in their flight, clung with
their feet to the hair of the holy man.
Soon a tempest arose full of darkness and groanings, and the trough
|
right
|
How many times does the word 'right' appear in the text?
| 1
|
its sophistries, to compare the statements of different
witnesses with severity, to discover truth and separate it from error. Our
fellow-men are well aware of this; and probably they act upon this
knowledge more generally, and with a more profound repose, than we are in
the habit of considering. The influence, too, of the legal profession upon
the community is unquestionably great; conversant, as it daily is, with
all classes and grades of men, in their domestic and social relations, and
in all the affairs of life, from the cradle to the grave. This influence
we are constantly exerting for good or ill; and hence, to refuse to
acquaint ourselves with the evidences of the Christian religion, or to act
as though, having fully examined, we lightly esteemed them, is to assume
an appalling amount of responsibility.
The things related by the Evangelists are certainly of the most momentous
character, affecting the principles of our conduct here, and our happiness
for ever. The religion of Jesus Christ aims at nothing less than the utter
overthrow of all other systems of religion in the world; denouncing them
as inadequate to the wants of man, false in their foundations, and
dangerous in their tendency. It not only solicits the grave attention of
all, to whom its doctrines are presented, but it demands their cordial
belief, as a matter of vital concernment. These are no ordinary claims;
and it seems hardly possible for a rational being to regard them with even
a subdued interest; much less to treat them with mere indifference and
contempt. If not true, they are little else than the pretensions of a bold
imposture, which, not satisfied with having already enslaved millions of
the human race, seeks to continue its encroachments upon human liberty,
until all nations shall be subjugated under its iron rule. But if they are
well founded and just, they can be no less than the high requirements of
Heaven, addressed by the voice of God to the reason and understanding of
man, concerning things deeply affecting his relations to his sovereign,
and essential to the formation of his character and of course to his
destiny, both for this life and for the life to come. Such was the
estimate taken of religion, even the religion of pagan Rome, by one of the
greatest lawyers of antiquity, when he argued that it was either nothing
at all, or was everything. _Aut undique religionem tolle, aut usquequaque
conserva._(1)
With this view of the importance of the subject, and in the hope that the
present work may in some degree aid or at least incite others to a more
successful pursuit of this interesting study, it is submitted to your kind
regard, by
Your obedient servant,
SIMON GREENLEAF.
HARVARD UNIVERSITY,
DANE HALL, _May 1, 1846_.
CONTENTS AND SYNOPSIS OF THE HARMONY.
_The figures in the first column refer to the corresponding Sections in_
NEWCOMEâS HARMONY. _Those in the second column to the Sections in this
Work._
Sect. Sect. Contents. Matt. Mark Luke John
Part I.
EVENTS CONNECTED
WITH THE BIRTH
AND CHILDHOOD OF
OUR LORD.
TIME: _About
thirteen and a
half years._
1 1 Preface to Lukeâs 1, 1-4
Gospel.
3 2
|
life
|
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| 2
|
back up again.
Cut to Samir. He grabs the steering wheel and shakes it in frustration.
<b>SAMIR
</b>Motherf - shit - sonofa - ass!! I just -
He hits the steering wheel.
Cut to Milton at a bus stop. TN
He mumbles his coming lines, as he does with all his lines.
<b>MILTON
</b>It's late again. If I'm there late again, I will be dismissed.
[Scene: Initech parking lot. Bill drives into his special spot.
(Reserved for Bill Lumbergh) He turns on the alarm for his Porsche
(license plate: MY PRSHE) and walks in. Peter walks in too.]
Cut to inside. Peter pauses at the door and slowly reaches out to touch
the metal handle. It gives him a shock and he enters.
Cut to the cubicles. Peter goes into his. He picks up papers, turns on
the computer and sits down.
<b>NINA
</b>Corporate Counsels Payroll, Nina speaking. Just a moment.
(repeats that over and over)
Bill comes up to Peter.
<b>BILL
</b>Hello, Peter. What's happening? Uh
we have sort of a problem here.
Yeah. You apparently didn't put one of the new coversheets on your TPS
reports.
<b>PETER
</b>Oh, yeah. I'm sorry about that. I, I forgot.
<b>BILL
</b><b>MMMM..YEAH. YOU SEE, WE'RE PUTTING THE COVERSHEETS ON ALL TPS REPORTS
</b><b>NOW BEFORE THEY GO OUT. DID YOU SEE THE MEMO ABOUT THIS?
</b>
<b>PETER
</b>Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I've got the memo right here, but, uh, uh, I just
forgot. But, uh, it's not shipping out until tomorrow, so there's no
problem.
<b>BILL
</b>Yeah. If you could just go ahead and make sure you do that from now on,
that will be great. And Uh, I'll go ahead and make sure you get another
copy of that memo Mmmm, Ok?
He walks away.
<b>PETER
</b>Yeah, yeah, I've got the memo, I've got -
He picks it up but Bill's at another cubicle.
<b>BILL
</b>Hello, Phil. What's happening?
Peter tries to read his papers, but a loud radio (news) is bothering
him. He stands up and sees it's Milton.
<b>PETER
</b>Milton? Uh, could you turn that down just a little bit?
<b>MILTON
</b>Uh, they said I could listen to the radio at a reasonable volume from
nine to eleven while I'm collating
.
<b>PETER
</b>But, no, no, no. I know you're allowed to, I was just thinking, like a
personal favor, y'know?
<b>MILTON
</b>I, I told Bill that if Sandra's going to listen to her headphones while
she' working, I can listen to the radio while I'm collating -
<b>PETER
</b>Ok.
<b>MILTON
</b>So I don't see why -
<b>PETER
</b>Ok.
<b>MILTON
</b>The radio, I can't -
<b>PETER
</b>Yeah! All right!
He sits down.
<b>MILTON
</b>I enjoy listening to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to
eleven.
Dom walks up.
<b>DOM
</b>Hello, Peter. What's happening? (Big smile)We need to talk about your
TPS reports.
<b>PETER
</b>Yeah. The coversheet. I know, I know. Uh, Bill talked to me about it.
<b>DOM
</b>Yeah.
|
reports
|
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| 2
|
had ever seen
upon Mars, and yet, at a distance, most manlike in appearance. The
larger specimens appeared to be about ten or twelve feet in height when
they stood erect, and to be proportioned as to torso and lower
extremities precisely as is earthly man.
Their arms, however, were very short, and from where I stood seemed as
though fashioned much after the manner of an elephant's trunk, in that
they moved in sinuous and snakelike undulations, as though entirely
without bony structure, or if there were bones it seemed that they must
be vertebral in nature.
As I watched them from behind the stem of a huge tree, one of the
creatures moved slowly in my direction, engaged in the occupation that
seemed to be the principal business of each of them, and which
consisted in running their oddly shaped hands over the surface of the
sward, for what purpose I could not determine.
As he approached quite close to me I obtained an excellent view of him,
and though I was later to become better acquainted with his kind, I may
say that that single cursory examination of this awful travesty on
Nature would have proved quite sufficient to my desires had I been a
free agent. The fastest flier of the Heliumetic Navy could not quickly
enough have carried me far from this hideous creature.
Its hairless body was a strange and ghoulish blue, except for a broad
band of white which encircled its protruding, single eye: an eye that
was all dead white--pupil, iris, and ball.
Its nose was a ragged, inflamed, circular hole in the centre of its
blank face; a hole that resembled more closely nothing that I could
think of other than a fresh bullet wound which has not yet commenced to
bleed.
Below this repulsive orifice the face was quite blank to the chin, for
the thing had no mouth that I could discover.
The head, with the exception of the face, was covered by a tangled mass
of jet-black hair some eight or ten inches in length. Each hair was
about the bigness of a large angleworm, and as the thing moved the
muscles of its scalp this awful head-covering seemed to writhe and
wriggle and crawl about the fearsome face as though indeed each
separate hair was endowed with independent life.
The body and the legs were as symmetrically human as Nature could have
fashioned them, and the feet, too, were human in shape, but of
monstrous proportions. From heel to toe they were fully three feet
long, and very flat and very broad.
As it came quite close to me I discovered that its strange movements,
running its odd hands over the surface of the turf, were the result of
its peculiar method of feeding, which consists in cropping off the
tender vegetation with its razorlike talons and sucking it up from its
two mouths, which lie one in the palm of each hand, through its
arm-like throats.
In addition to the features which I have already described, the beast
was equipped with a massive tail about six feet in length, quite round
where it joined the body, but tapering to a flat, thin blade toward the
end, which trailed at right angles to the ground.
By far the most remarkable feature of this most remarkable creature,
however, were the two tiny replicas of it, each about six inches in
length, which dangled, one on either side, from its armpits. They were
suspended by a small stem which seemed to grow from the exact tops of
their heads to where it connected them with the body of the adult.
Whether they were the young, or merely portions of a composite
creature, I did not know.
As I had been scrutinizing this weird monstrosity the balance of the
herd had fed quite close to me and I now saw that while many had the
smaller specimens dangling from them, not all were thus equipped, and I
further noted that the little ones varied in size from what appeared to
be but tiny unopened buds an inch in diameter through various stages of
development to the full-fledged and perfectly formed creature of ten to
twelve inches in length.
Feeding with the herd were many of the little fellows not much larger
than those which remained attached to their parents, and from the young
of that size the herd graded up to the immense
|
which
|
How many times does the word 'which' appear in the text?
| 9
|
and
<b> MENNO MEYJES
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. DESERT OF THE AMERICAN SOUTHWEST - DAY
</b>
A mountain peak dominates the landscape.
<b> TITLES BEGIN.
</b>
Riders on horseback cross the desert. From this distance they appear to be a
company of Army Cavalry Soldiers.
<b> CLOSER ANGLES ON THE RIDERS
</b>
reveal only details of saddles, hooves and uniforms. The riders are silhouetted
against the rising sun as they ride into an ancient CLIFF PUEBLO.
The OFFICER IN COMMAND raises his hand halting his troops.
<b> OFFICER
</b> Dis-mount!
RIDERS climb down from their mounts... and only now do we realize that
this is a TROOP OF BOY SCOUTS, all of them about thirteen years of age. The
"Commanding Officer" is only their SCOUTMASTER, Mr. Havelock.
One of the Scouts, a pudgy kid named HERMAN, steps away from his horse,
bends over and pukes. The other Scouts rag on him.
<b> FIRST SCOUT
</b> Herman's horsesick!
A BLOND SCOUT, however, befriends Herman. He has a thatch of straw-colored
hair and the no-nonsense expression common to kids whose curiosity and appetite
for knowledge exceed what they teach in school. Additionally, he has adorned his
uniform with an authentic HOPI INDIAN WOVEN BELT.
<b> SCOUTMASTER
</b> Chaps, don't anybody wander off.
Some of the passageways in here
can run for miles.
Two Boy Scouts climb up the rocky base of the cliff.
<b> INT. THE PASSAGEWAY - DAY
</b>
The two boys head down the passageway. It's dark, and the temperature drops
several degrees. Spiders have built huge webs that get caught in the boys' hair.
HERMAN appears very uncertain as to the wisdom of this enterprise, but he's
drawn on by his companion's adventurous curiosity.
<b>CONTINUED:
</b>
<b> HERMAN
</b> I don't think this is such a good
idea.
LAUGHTER is HEARD; the Blond Scout pulls Herman forward toward its source.
The VOICES GROW LOUDER now as the boys get closer to their source. The light
of kerosene lanterns dances on the tunnel walls ahead. The boys approach
cautiously, careful to stay hidden.
<b> HERMAN
</b> What is it?
This is what they see:
FOUR MEN digging with shovels and pick-axes. They have broken into one of the
pueblo's SECRET CHAMBERS... called "Kivas."
The men are ROUGH RIDER (his name describes his dress), ROSCOE (a Bowery
Boy bully of 14) and HALFBREED (with straight black hair that cascades over his
shoulders).
And the fourth man wears a LEATHER WAIST JACKET and BROWN FELT
FEDORA HAT. He has his back turned to us, but we would be willing to bet
anything that this is INDLANA JONES.
However, when the man turns, and his face is illuminated by the lantern's glow,
we are shocked to discover that it is someone else.
We'll call him FEDORA.
|
scout
|
How many times does the word 'scout' appear in the text?
| 2
|
its great game with a kind of pleasurable excitement. Yet this novel
emotion had nothing to do with the wind. Indeed, so vague was the sense of
distress I experienced, that it was impossible to trace it to its source
and deal with it accordingly, though I was aware somehow that it had to do
with my realization of our utter insignificance before this unrestrained
power of the elements about me. The huge-grown river had something to do
with it too--a vague, unpleasant idea that we had somehow trifled with
these great elemental forces in whose power we lay helpless every hour of
the day and night. For here, indeed, they were gigantically at play
together, and the sight appealed to the imagination.
But my emotion, so far as I could understand it, seemed to attach itself
more particularly to the willow bushes, to these acres and acres of
willows, crowding, so thickly growing there, swarming everywhere the eye
could reach, pressing upon the river as though to suffocate it, standing in
dense array mile after mile beneath the sky, watching, waiting, listening.
And, apart quite from the elements, the willows connected themselves subtly
with my malaise, attacking the mind insidiously somehow by reason of their
vast numbers, and contriving in some way or other to represent to the
imagination a new and mighty power, a power, moreover, not altogether
friendly to us.
Great revelations of nature, of course, never fail to impress in one way or
another, and I was no stranger to moods of the kind. Mountains overawe and
oceans terrify, while the mystery of great forests exercises a spell
peculiarly its own. But all these, at one point or another, somewhere link
on intimately with human life and human experience. They stir
comprehensible, even if alarming, emotions. They tend on the whole to
exalt.
With this multitude of willows, however, it was something far different, I
felt. Some essence emanated from them that besieged the heart. A sense of
awe awakened, true, but of awe touched somewhere by a vague terror. Their
serried ranks, growing everywhere darker about me as the shadows deepened,
moving furiously yet softly in the wind, woke in me the curious and
unwelcome suggestion that we had trespassed here upon the borders of an
alien world, a world where we were intruders, a world where we were not
wanted or invited to remain--where we ran grave risks perhaps!
The feeling, however, though it refused to yield its meaning entirely to
analysis, did not at the time trouble me by passing into menace. Yet it
never left me quite, even during the very practical business of putting up
the tent in a hurricane of wind and building a fire for the stew-pot. It
remained, just enough to bother and perplex, and to rob a most delightful
camping-ground of a good portion of its charm. To my companion, however, I
said nothing, for he was a man I considered devoid of imagination. In the
first place, I could never have explained to him what I meant, and in the
second, he would have laughed stupidly at me if I had.
There was a slight depression in the center of the island, and here we
pitched the tent. The surrounding willows broke the wind a bit.
"A poor camp," observed the imperturbable Swede when at last the tent stood
upright, "no stones and precious little firewood. I'm for moving on early
tomorrow--eh? This sand won't hold anything."
But the experience of a collapsing tent at midnight had taught us many
devices, and we made the cozy gipsy house as safe as possible, and then set
about collecting a store of wood to last till bed-time. Willow bushes drop
no branches, and driftwood was our only source of supply. We hunted the
shores pretty thoroughly. Everywhere the banks were crumbling as the rising
flood tore at them and carried away great portions with a splash and a
gurgle.
"The island's much smaller than when we landed," said the accurate Swede.
"It won't last long at this rate. We'd better drag the canoe close to the
tent, and be ready to start at a moment's notice. I shall sleep in my
clothes."
He was a little distance off, climbing along the bank, and I heard his
|
here
|
How many times does the word 'here' 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
|
only
|
How many times does the word 'only' appear in the text?
| 2
|
> AND TAUGHT HIM HOW TO PRAY.
</b><b> AND AS I SEARCHED FOR BETTER WAYS HIS GUIDE AND HELP TO BE...
</b><b> I FOUND, AS WE WALKED HAND IN HAND, THAT HE WAS LEADING ME.
</b><b> "THE DAY THE CLOWN CRIED"
</b>
<b> COLD OPENING
</b>
<b> EXT. PARIS CIRCUS - NIGHT
</b>
The normal activity and excitement of showtime around the
circus is in evidence where we see the half dark street and
alley directly adjacent to the circus tent which (in Paris
is an enclosure)... the animals, the midgets, the people and
the roustabouts moving with a fixed speed and getting faster
as we now know showtime is momentarily due.
We MOVE TOWARD the action, slowly but definitely picking up
SOUNDS and actions of the busy people as we go.
<b> STRAIGHT CUT TO:
</b>
<b> EXT. CIRCUS - FRONT OF CIRCUS - PEOPLE ENTERING - NIGHT
</b>
We see barkers, children, people, pushing... buying tickets,
hats, candy... SOUNDS of children laughing, MUSIC playing
from o.s. within the tent area... and we...
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> EXT. BACK OF CIRCUS - NIGHT
</b>
A continuation of the animals, trainers, clowns INTERCUT
with the action of the circus customers jamming the
entranceway to get in... (complimented CUTS from backstage
to out front... building to the final crescendo... as we see
the alley empty and clear out vs. the front area clearing
and also becoming empty.)
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b> INT. CIRCUS PROPER - NIGHT
</b>
The fully dressed orchestra playing the oncoming people to
their respective seats as we PAN ALONG the happy faces and
excited children... DOWN and BACK within the circus backstage
and SLOWLY COME TO A STOP OUTSIDE: "CLOWN ALLEY".
<b> CLOWN ALLEY - NIGHT
</b>
The heartbeat of any circus... The long row of unkempt, yet
beautifully neat trunks where the clowns make up, with many
of the clowns just coming in and setting their clothes and
things around their own little areas... midgets running and
playing, like the little children they are about to
entertain... MUSIC is in the deep background... as we COME
TO A STOP at the large trunk with the letters clearly printed
<b> ...'GUSTAV - EUROPE'S PREMIER CLOWN."
</b>
We PULL BACK and AWAY from the lettering on the trunk and
REVEAL the face of a gentle but drawn man, a man whose body
and movements indicate he has been at this for a long time.
As he sits, the little midgets run close to see what they
can do to help; one pulls the chair for him to sit on; another
brings a hot cup of coffee; another takes his coat and hangs
in on the hattree, adjacent to his trunk... as we PUSH PAST
HIM to introduce the other clowns... some half made up, others
finishing their make-up... and some just sitting and rapping
together, smoking, drinking coffee, waiting for showtime...
and in the very distant b.g., almost against the wall of
clown alley, we see the trunk and the body of a "CLOWN" in
silhouette... we CRAWL TOWARDS the body and the trunk... and
COME TO
|
enclosure
|
How many times does the word 'enclosure' appear in the text?
| 0
|
.
Unfortunately. I'm really sorry.
<b> OLD WOMAN
</b> Would you just try him? You never know.
As long as I'm here. You never know.
<b> RECEPTIONIST
</b> Of course. Please have a seat.
The old woman smiles and sits, the bulky manuscript on her
lap. She stares politely straight ahead.
<b> RECEPTIONIST (CONT'D)
</b> (quietly into headset)
It's her -- I know, but couldn't you just
-- Yes, I know, but -- I know, but she's
old and it would be a nice -- Yes, sorry.
(to old woman)
I'm sorry, ma'am, he's not in right now.
It's a crazy time of year for us.
The receptionist gestures toward a Christmas tree in the
corner. Its ornaments are holograms.
<b> OLD WOMAN
</b> This book -- It's essential that people
read it because --
(gravely, patting the
manuscript)
-- It's the truth. And only I know it.
<b> RECEPTIONIST
</b> (nodding sympathetically)
Maybe after the holidays then.
<b>INT. TILED HALLWAY - DAY
</b>
The old woman carries her manuscript haltingly down a subway
hall. She stops to catch her breath, then continues and
passes several archway with letters printed above them. When
she arrives at one topped by an LL, she slips a card in a
slot. A plastic molded chair drops into the archway. She
sits in the chair; it rises.
<b>INT. TUBE -DAY
</b>
The woman is still in the chair as it slips gracefully into a
line of chairs shooting through a glass tube. The other
chairs are peopled with commuters. We stay with the woman as
she and the others travel over New York City in the tube.
There are hundreds of these commuter tubes crisscrossing the
skyline. The woman glances at the manuscript in her lap.
It's called:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
This serves as the movie's opening title. The other credits
follow, as the old woman studies commuters in passing tubes.
Their faces are variously harsh and sad and lonely and blank.
<b>INT. WAITING ROOM - DAY
</b>
<b>SUBTITLED: FIFTY YEARS EARLIER
</b>
Every doctor's office waiting room: chairs against the wall,
magazines on end tables, a sad-looking potted plant, generic
seascape paintings on the walls. The receptionist, Mary, 25,
can be seen typing in the reception area. Behind her are
shelves and shelves of medical files. The door opens and
Clementine enters. She's in her early thirties, zaftig in a
faux fur winter coat over an orange hooded sweatshirt. She's
decidedly funky and has blue hair. Mary looks up.
<b> MARY
</b> May I help you?
<b> CLEMENTINE
</b> (approaching reception area)
Yeah, hi, I have a one o'clock with Dr.
Mierzwiak. Clementine Kruczynski.
<b> MARY
</b> Yes, please have a seat. He'll be right
with you.
Clementine sits. She looks tired, maybe hungover. She picks
up a magazine at random and thumbs without interest.
<b>INT. INNER OFFICE AREA - CONTINUOUS
</b>
Mary pads down the hallway. She knocks on a closed door.
<b> MIERZWIAK (O.S.)
</b> Yes?
Mary opens the door, peeks in. Howard Mierzwiak, 40's,
professional, dry, sits behind his desk studying
|
people
|
How many times does the word 'people' appear in the text?
| 0
|
Galaor. Quoth the other, certes either he is the greatest
coward in the world, or he goes upon some great adventure: I will
forego my own vengeance to see the end of this. By this Galaor was far
before them, for he did not tarry a whit, and they rode after him. It
was now drawing towards night. Galaor entered a forest, and soon lost
the track, for it was dark, so that he knew not which way to take. Then
he began to pray to God to guide him that he might be the first to
succour the King; and thinking that those horsemen might have led the
King apart from the road to rest themselves, he went along the bottoms
listening every where if he might hear them. The Knights thinking he
had kept the road, rode straight forward about a league till they came
through the forest, and not seeing him there they imagined he had
hidden himself, and they turned aside to lodge in the house of a Dame
hard by.
When Galaor had searched the forest throughout, and found nothing, he
resolved to proceed, and ascend some eminence the next day to look
about. So recovering the road, he went on till he came into the open
country, and there he saw before him in a valley a little fire. Thither
he went; it was some forgemen, and they seeing him come among them in
arms, took up lances and hatchets to defend themselves; but he bidding
them not fear, besought them to give him some barley for his horse.
The which they did, and he gave the beast his supper. They would have
given him also to eat, but he would not; only he lay down to sleep,
requesting them to wake him before day-break. The night was two parts
gone, and Galaor lay down by the fire, completely armed. At dawn he
rose, for he had not slept much for pure vexation, and, commending them
to God, he took his leave. His Squire had not been able to keep pace
with him, and thenceforth he vowed if God prospered him, to give his
Squire the better horse. So he rode to a high hill, and from thence
began to look all round him.
The two cousins had now left the Lady's house, and it being now day
they saw Galaor on the eminence, and knowing him by his shield rode
towards him. As they drew nigh they saw him descend the hill as fast
as horse could carry him. Certes, quoth the one, he is flying and
concealing himself for some mischief: if I come up with him, God never
help me if I do not learn from him what he hath deserved. But Galaor,
thinking nothing of them, had just seen ten Knights passing a strait
at the entrance of the forest, of whom five rode first and five behind,
and some unarmed men went in the middle. These he thought to be the
villains with the King, and went towards them like a man who has
devoted his own life to save another. Coming near, he saw Lisuarte with
the chain about his neck; and then, with grief and rage that defied
danger, he ran at the first five, exclaiming, Ah, traitors! to your own
misfortune have you laid hands upon the best man in the world! The five
at once ran at him; he smote the first so sternly, that the wood of his
lance appeared through his back, and he fell dead; the others smote
him with such force that his horse fell upon his knees, and one of
them drove his spear between Galaor's shield and breast-plate. Galaor
forced it from him, and striking at another with it, nailed his leg
to the horse, and left the broken lance in them; then putting hand to
sword, the others all came at him, and he defended himself so bravely
that every one wondered how he could bear up against such blows. But
being in this great press of danger, it pleased God to succour him
with the two cousins who were in his pursuit, who seeing his great
chivalry, exclaimed, Of a truth we wrongly called him coward: let us
go help the best Knight in the world! With that they ran full tilt to
his assistance, like men who knew their business, for they had each
been Errant Knights for ten years, and the one
|
they
|
How many times does the word 'they' appear in the text?
| 11
|
'Get up, pig!' growled the first. 'Don't sleep when I am hungry.'
'It's all one, master,' said the pig, in a submissive manner, and not
without cheerfulness; 'I can wake when I will, I can sleep when I will.
It's all the same.'
As he said it, he rose, shook himself, scratched himself, tied his brown
coat loosely round his neck by the sleeves (he had previously used it
as a coverlet), and sat down upon the pavement yawning, with his back
against the wall opposite to the grating.
'Say what the hour is,' grumbled the first man.
'The mid-day bells will ring--in forty minutes.' When he made the
little pause, he had looked round the prison-room, as if for certain
information.
'You are a clock. How is it that you always know?'
'How can I say? I always know what the hour is, and where I am. I was
brought in here at night, and out of a boat, but I know where I am. See
here! Marseilles harbour;' on his knees on the pavement, mapping it all
out with a swarthy forefinger; 'Toulon (where the galleys are), Spain
over there, Algiers over _there_. Creeping away to the left here, Nice.
Round by the Cornice to Genoa. Genoa Mole and Harbour. Quarantine
Ground. City there; terrace gardens blushing with the bella donna. Here,
Porto Fino. Stand out for Leghorn. Out again for Civita Vecchia, so away
to--hey! there's no room for Naples;' he had got to the wall by this
time; 'but it's all one; it's in there!'
He remained on his knees, looking up at his fellow-prisoner with a
lively look for a prison. A sunburnt, quick, lithe, little man, though
rather thickset. Earrings in his brown ears, white teeth lighting up his
grotesque brown face, intensely black hair clustering about his brown
throat, a ragged red shirt open at his brown breast. Loose, seaman-like
trousers, decent shoes, a long red cap, a red sash round his waist, and
a knife in it.
'Judge if I come back from Naples as I went! See here, my master! Civita
Vecchia, Leghorn, Porto Fino, Genoa, Cornice, Off Nice (which is in
there), Marseilles, you and me. The apartment of the jailer and his keys
is where I put this thumb; and here at my wrist they keep the national
razor in its case--the guillotine locked up.'
The other man spat suddenly on the pavement, and gurgled in his throat.
Some lock below gurgled in _its_ throat immediately afterwards, and then
a door crashed. Slow steps began ascending the stairs; the prattle of
a sweet little voice mingled with the noise they made; and the
prison-keeper appeared carrying his daughter, three or four years old,
and a basket.
'How goes the world this forenoon, gentlemen? My little one, you see,
going round with me to have a peep at her father's birds. Fie, then!
Look at the birds, my pretty, look at the birds.'
He looked sharply at the birds himself, as he held the child up at
the grate, especially at the little bird, whose activity he seemed to
mistrust. 'I have brought your bread, Signor John Baptist,' said he
(they all spoke in French, but the little man was an Italian); 'and if I
might recommend you not to game--'
'You don't recommend the master!' said John Baptist, showing his teeth
as he smiled.
'Oh! but the master wins,' returned the jailer, with a passing look of
no particular liking at the other man, 'and you lose. It's quite another
thing. You get husky bread and sour drink by it; and he gets sausage of
Lyons, veal in savoury jelly, white bread, strachino cheese, and good
wine by it. Look at the birds, my pretty!'
'Poor birds!' said the child.
The fair little face
|
baptist
|
How many times does the word 'baptist' appear in the text?
| 1
|
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
|
about
|
How many times does the word 'about' appear in the text?
| 4
|
now. "Go to the devil! How often have I told
you not to paw me about? I wish you'd do as you're told. What
do you call him Lawrence for?"
"I always did. But I'll call him Captain Hyde if you like--"
"'Mr.,' you mean: he's probably dropped the 'Captain.' He was
only a 'temporary.'"
"For all that, he has stuck to his prefix," said Laura smiling.
"Lucian chaffed him about it. But Lawrence was always rather a
baby in some ways: clocked socks to match his ties, and
astonishing adventures in jewellery, and so on. Oh yes, I knew
him very well indeed when I was a girl. Mr. and Mrs. Hyde were
among the last of the old set who kept up with us after father
was turned out of his clubs. I've stayed at Farringay."
"You never told me that!"
"I never thought of telling you. Lawrence hasn't been near us
since we came to Wanhope and I don't recollect your ever
mentioning his name. You see I tell you now."
"How old were you when you stayed at Farringay?"
"Twenty-two. Lawrence and I are the same age."
"And you knew him well, did you?"
"We were great friends," said Mrs. Clowes, tossing a lump of
sugar out of the window to a lame jackdaw. She had many such
pensioners, alike in a community of misfortune. "And, yes,
Berns, you're right, we flirted a little--only a little: wasn't
it natural? It was only for fun, because we were both young and
it was such heavenly weather--it was the Easter before war broke
out. No, he didn't ask me to marry him! Nothing was farther
from his mind."
"Did he kiss you?"
Laura slowly and smilingly shook her head. "Am I, Yvonne?"
"But you liked the fellow?"
"Oh yes, he was charming. A little too much one of a class,
perhaps: there's a strong family likeness, isn't there, between
Cambridge undergraduates? But he was more cultivated than a good
many of his class. We used to go up the river together and read
--what did one read in the spring of 1914? Masefield, I suppose,
or was it Maeterlinck? Rupert Brooks came with the war. Imagine
reading 'Pelleas et Melisande' in a Canadian canoe! It makes one
want to be twenty-two again, so young and so delightfully
serious." It was hard to run on while the glow faded out of
Bernard's face and a cold gloom again came over it, but sad
experience had taught Laura that at all costs, under whatever
temptation, it was wiser to be frank. It would have been easier
for the moment to paint the boy and girl friendship in neutral
tints, but if its details came out later, trivial and innocent
as they were, the economy of today would cost her dear tomorrow,
Her own impression was that Clowes had never been jealous of her
in his life. But the pretence of jealousy was one of his few
diversions.
"I dare say you do wish you were twenty-two again," he said,
delicately setting down his tea cup on the tray--all his
movements, so far as he could control them, were delicate and
fastidious. "I dare say you would like a chance to play your
cards differently. Can't be done, my, girl, but what a good
fellow I am to ask Lawrence to Wanhope, ain't I? No one can say
I'm not an obliging husband. Lawrence isn't a jumping doll. He's
six and thirty and as strong as a horse. You'll have no end of a
good time knitting up your severed friendship .. 'Pon my word,
I've a good mind to put him off. . I shouldn't care to fall foul
of the King's Proctor."
"Will you have another cup of tea before I ring"
"No, thanks . . . Do I lead you the deuce of a life, Lally?"
|
again
|
How many times does the word 'again' appear in the text?
| 2
|
SHOOTING DRAFT (1984)
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> EXT. ST. ANN'S SCHOOL - DAY
</b>
CAMERA PANS a group of freshly-scrubbed, innocent children,
obediently standing in line, like recruits for the Holy
Crusade. PULL BACK to REVEAL they are wearing the gray
blazers, striped ties and navy slacks of St. Luke's School.
They are waiting patiently at the curbside in front of the
statue of the school's sainted namesake. One of the fifth
grade BOYS pokes the KID next to him with his elbow. The
other Kid is about to retaliate when SISTER MARY FRANCIS, a
stern-faced nun, appears behind them, grabbing them both
firmly by the shoulders.
<b> SISTER MARY FRANCIS
</b> Make one more move and you'll both
be staying late for the rest of the
week.
<b> THE BOYS
</b> (softly; in unison)
Sorry, Sister Mary Francis.
<b> SISTER MARY FRANCIS
</b> I didn't hear you.
<b> THE BOYS
</b> (louder)
Sorry, Sister Mary Francis.
Sister Mary Francis checks her watch. She scowls and looks
out past the parking lot gate.
Suddenly we HEAR the SOUND of an ENGINE roaring at full
throttle. There is a SCREECHING of BRAKES, followed by the
|
mary
|
How many times does the word 'mary' appear in the text?
| 5
|
âodds-heart! I don't think he would marry the queen of Sheba.
Lack-a-day! sir, he won't suffer his own maids to be in the garrison,
but turns them into an out-house every night before the watch is set.
Bless your honour's soul, he is, as it were, a very oddish kind of a
gentleman. Your worship would have seen him before now; for, when he
is well, he and my good master Hatchway come hither every evening, and
drink a couple of cans of rumbo a piece; but he has been confined to
his house this fortnight by a plaguy fit of the gout, which, I'll assure
your worship, is a good penny out of my pocket.â
At that instant, Mr. Pickle's ears were saluted with such a strange
noise, as even discomposed the muscles of his face, which gave immediate
indications of alarm. This composition of notes at first resembled
the crying of quails, and croaking of bull-dogs; but as it approached
nearer, he could distinguish articulate sounds pronounced with great
violence, in such a cadence as one would expect to hear from a human
creature scolding through the organs of an ass; it was neither speaking
nor braying, but a surprising mixture of both, employed in the utterance
of terms absolutely unintelligible to our wondering merchant, who had
just opened his mouth to express his curiosity, when the starting up at
the well-known sound, cried, âOdd's niggers! there is the commodore with
his company, as sure as I live,â and with his apron began to wipe the
dust off an elbow-chair placed at one side of the fire, and kept sacred
for the ease and convenience of this infirm commander. While he was thus
occupied, a voice, still more uncouth than the former, bawled aloud,
âHo! the house, a-hoy!â Upon which the publican, clapping a hand to each
side of his head with his thumbs fixed to his ears, rebellowed in the
same tone, which he had learned to imitate, âHilloah.â The voice again
exclaimed, âHave you got any attorneys aboard?â and when the landlord
replied, âNo, no,â this man of strange expectation came in, supported by
his two dependents, and displayed a figure every way answerable to
the oddity of his character. He was in stature at least six feet high,
though he had contracted a habit of stooping, by living so long on
board; his complexion was tawny, and his aspect rendered hideous by a
large scar across his nose, and a patch that covered the place of
one eye. Being seated in his chair, with great formality the landlord
complimented him upon his being able to come abroad again; and having in
a whisper communicated the name of his fellow-guest, whom the commodore
already knew by report, went to prepare, with all imaginable despatch,
the first allowance of his favourite liquor, in three separate cans (for
each was accommodated with his own portion apart), while the lieutenant
sat down on the blind side of his commander; and Tom Pipes, knowing his
distance, with great modesty took his station in the rear.
After a pause of some minutes, the conversation was begun by this
ferocious chief, who, fixing his eye upon the lieutenant with a
sternness of countenance not to be described, addressed him in these
words: âD-- my eyes! Hatchway, I always took you to be a better seaman
than to overset our chaise in such fair weather. Blood! didn't I tell
you we were running bump ashore, and bid you set in the ice-brace, and
haul up a wind?â--âYes,â replied the other, with an arch sneer, âI do
confess as how you did give such orders, after you had run us foul of
a post, so as that the carriage lay along, and could not right
herself.â
|
this
|
How many times does the word 'this' appear in the text?
| 4
|
Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved
<b>
</b>
<b>BLACK. THE SOUND OF CHANNELS BEING TURNED ON A TV. TITLE UP:
</b>
<b>"SOME TIME AGO".
</b>
<b> NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
</b>
It's hard for us here to believe
what we're reporting to you, but it
does seem to be a fact.
CLICK! In a corner of the BLACK SCREEN, A SMALL TV APPEARS.
On it, in BLACK & WHITE, A NEWSCASTER sits at an anchor desk.
<b> NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
</b>
Bodies of the recently dead are
returning to life and attacking the
living.
CLICK! With each CLICK, the TV disappears, then reappears in
a new position ON SCREEN. CREDITS ROLL in the surrounding
<b>
</b>
<b>BLACK.
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
</b>
Murder victims have shown signs of
having been partially devoured by
their murderers.
CLICK! ANOTHER NEWSCASTER is on the TV now, sitting in a more
modern studio. The broadcast remains in BLACK & WHITE.
<b> SECOND NEWSCASTER
</b>
Because of the obvious threat to
|
click
|
How many times does the word 'click' appear in the text?
| 3
|
again, but have received the amount
of his bill from your hands. I know that you can throw down a handful
of money with a tolerably contemptuous mien.
JUST.
Oh! a pretty sort of revenge!
MAJ. T.
Which, however, we must defer. I have not one heller of ready money,
and I know not where to raise any.
JUST.
No money! What is that purse then with five hundred thalers' worth of
louis d'ors, which the Landlord found in your desk?
MAJ. T.
That is money given into my charge.
JUST.
Not the hundred pistoles which your old sergeant brought you four or
five weeks back?
MAJ. T.
The same. Paul Werner's; right.
JUST.
And you have not used them yet? Yet, sir, you may do what you please
with them. I will answer for it that!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Indeed!
JUST.
Werner heard from me, how they had treated your claims upon the War
Office. He heard!!!!!
MAJ. T.
That I should certainly be a beggar soon, if I was not one already. I
am much obliged to you, Just. And the news induced Werner to offer to
share his little all with me. I am very glad that I guessed this.
Listen, Just; let me have your account, directly, too; we must part.
JUST.
How! what!
MAJ. T.
Not a word. There is someone coming.
SCENE V.
Lady _in mourning_, Major von Tellheim, Just
LADY.
I ask your pardon, sir.
MAJ. T.
Whom do you seek, Madam?
LADY.
The worthy gentleman with whom I have the honour of speaking. You do
not know me again. I am the widow of your late captain.
MAJ. T.
Good heavens, Madam, how you are changed!
LADY.
I have just risen from a sick bed, to which grief on the loss of my
husband brought me. I am troubling you at a very early hour, Major von
Tellheim, but I am going into the country, where a kind, but also
unfortunate friend, has for the present offered me an asylum.
MAJ. T. (to Just).
Leave us.
SCENE VI.
Lady, Major von Tellheim
MAJ. T.
Speak freely, Madam! You must not be ashamed of your bad fortune
before me. Can I serve you in any way?
LADY.
Major!!!!!
MAJ. T.
I pity you, Madam! How can I serve you? You know your husband was my
friend; my friend, I say, and I have always been sparing of this
title.
LADY.
Who knows better than I do how worthy you were of his friendship how
worthy he was of yours? You would have been in his last thoughts, your
name would have been the last sound on his dying lips, had not natural
affection, stronger than friendship, demanded this sad prerogative for
his unfortunate son, and his unhappy wife.
MAJ. T.
Cease, Madam! I could willingly weep with you; but I have no tears
to-day. Spare me! You come to me at a time when I might easily be
misled to murmur against Providence. Oh! honest Marloff! Quick, Madam,
what have you to request? If it is in my power to assist you, if it is
in my power!!!!!
LADY.
I cannot depart without fulfilling his last wishes. He recollected,
shortly before his death, that he was dying a debtor to you, and he
conjured me to discharge his debt with the first ready money I should
have. I have sold his carriage, and come to redeem his note.
MAJ. T.
What, Madam! Is that your object in coming?
LADY.
It is. Permit me to count
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 7
|
Robert Ludlum
<b> PARIS DRAFT 9/20/00
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> DARKNESS. THE SOUND OF WIND AND SPRAY.
</b>
<b> MUSIC. TITLES.
</b>
<b> EXT. OCEAN -- NIGHT
</b>
The darkness is actually water. A SEARCHLIGHT arcs across
heavy ocean swells. Half-a-dozen flashlights -- weaker beams --
racing along what we can see is the deck of an aging FISHING
<b> TRAWLER.
</b>
FISHERMEN struggling with a gaff -- something in the water --
<b> A HUMAN CORPSE.
</b>
<b> EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- NIGHT
</b>
THE BODY sprawled there. The Sailors all talking at once --
three languages going -- brave chatter to mask the presence
of death --
<b> SAILOR #1
</b> -- Jesus, look at him --
<b> SAILOR #2
</b> -- what? -- you never saw a dead man
before? --
<b> SAILOR #3
</b> -- look, look he was shot --
(nudging the body --)
<b> SAILOR #1
</b> -- don't, don't do that --
<b> SAILOR #2
</b> -- he's dead, you think he cares? --
<b>
|
sailor
|
How many times does the word 'sailor' appear in the text?
| 4
|
Some one remarked that it
reminded him of nothing so much as the native camp at Earl's Court on a
fine August evening, and that indeed was the effect.
After a little the stillness was broken by a sound which we could not
conceal from ourselves was 'the distant rattle of musketry'; somewhere a
gun fired startlingly; and now as we went each man felt vaguely that at
any minute we might be plunged into the thick of a battle, laden as we
were, and I think each man braced himself for a desperate struggle. Such
is the effect of marching in the dark to an unknown destination. Soon we
were halted in a piece of apparently waste land circled by trees, and
ordered to dig ourselves a habitation at once, for 'in the morning' it
was whispered 'the Turks search all this ground.' Everything was said in
a kind of hoarse, mysterious whisper, presumably to conceal our
observations from the ears of the Turks five miles away. But then we did
not know they were five miles away; we had no idea where they were or
where we were ourselves. Men glanced furtively at the North Star for
guidance, and were pained to find that, contrary to their military
teaching, it told them nothing. Even the digging was carried on a little
stealthily till it was discovered that the Turks were not behind those
trees. The digging was a comfort to the men, who, being pitmen, were now
in their element; and the officers found solace in whispering to each
other that magical communication about the prospective 'searching'; it
was the first technical word they had used 'in the field,' and they were
secretly proud to know what it meant.
In a little the dawn began, and the grey trees took shape; and the sun
came up out of Asia, and we saw at last the little sugar-loaf peak of
Achi Baba, absurdly pink and diminutive in the distance. A man's first
frontal impression of that great rampart, with the outlying slopes
masking the summit, was that it was disappointingly small; but when he
had lived under and upon it for a while, day by day, it seemed to grow
in menace and in bulk, and ultimately became a hideous, overpowering
monster, pervading all his life; so that it worked upon men's nerves,
and almost everywhere in the Peninsula they were painfully conscious
that every movement they made could be watched from somewhere on that
massive hill.
But now the kitchens had come, and there was breakfast and viscous,
milkless tea. We discovered that all around our seeming solitude the
earth had been peopled with sleepers, who now emerged from their holes;
there was a stir of washing and cooking and singing, and the smoke went
up from the wood fires in the clear, cool air. D Company officers made
their camp under an olive-tree, with a view over the blue water to
Samothrace and Imbros, and now in the early cool, before the sun had
gathered his noonday malignity, it was very pleasant. At seven o'clock
the 'searching' began. A mile away, on the northern cliffs, the first
shell burst, stampeding a number of horses. The long-drawn warning
scream and the final crash gave all the expectant battalion a faintly
pleasurable thrill, and as each shell came a little nearer the sensation
remained. No one was afraid; without the knowledge of experience no one
could be seriously afraid on this cool, sunny morning in the grove of
olive-trees. Those chill hours in the sweeper had been much more
alarming. The common sensation was: 'At last I am really under fire;
to-day I shall write home and tell them about it.' And then, when it
seemed that the line on which the shells were falling must, if
continued, pass through the middle of our camp, the firing mysteriously
ceased.
Harry, I know, was disappointed; personally, I was pleased.
* * * * *
I learned more about Harry that afternoon. He had been much exhausted by
the long night, but was now refreshed and filled with an almost childish
enthusiasm by the pictorial attractions of the place. For this
enthusiastic
|
were
|
How many times does the word 'were' appear in the text?
| 10
|
didn't she? Come on -
- we'll go tell Uncle Henry and Auntie
Em. Come on, Toto.
LS -- Farm yard -- Dorothy enters left b.g. along road --
Toto following her -- CAMERA PANS right -- she comes forward
thru gate -- runs forward to Aunt Em and Uncle Henry working
at Incubator --
<b> DOROTHY (CONT'D)
</b> Aunt Em! Aunt Em!
MS -- Aunt Em and Uncle Henry working with baby chicks in
incubator -- Dorothy runs in -- speaks to them -- Dorothy
picks up baby chick -- CAMERA TRUCKS back as Aunt Em and
Dorothy come forward -- Aunt Em puts chick in coop with hen --
then TRUCKS forward as they go to b.g. to incubator --
Dorothy reacts -- Uncle Henry looks at her -- CAMERA PANS her
to left across yard --
<b> DOROTHY (CONT'D)
</b> Aunt Em!
<b> AUNT EM
</b> Fifty-seven, fifty-eight --
<b> DOROTHY
</b> Just listen to what Miss Gulch did to
Toto! She --
<b> AUNT EM
</b> Dorothy, please! We're trying to count!
Fifty-eight--
<b> DOROTHY
</b> Oh, but Aunt Em, she hit him over the --
<b> (CONTINUED)
</b><b>
</b><b> 2.
</b><b>CONTINUED:
</b>
<b> UNCLE HENRY
</b> Don't bother us now, honey -- this old
incubator's gone bad, and we're likely to
lose a lot of our chicks.
<b> DOROTHY
</b> Oh -- oh, the poor little things. Oh,
but Aunt Em, Miss Gulch hit Toto right
over the back with a rake just because
she says he gets in her garden and chases
her nasty old cat every day.
<b> AUNT EM
</b>
|
bother
|
How many times does the word 'bother' appear in the text?
| 0
|
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b>
<b>EXT. GALAXY - PLANET HOTH
</b>
A Star Destroyer moves through space, releasing Imperial probe robots
from its underside.
One of these probes zooms toward the planet Hoth and lands on its ice-
covered surface. An explosion marks the point of
impact.
<b>EXT. HOTH - METEORITE CRATER - SNOW PLAIN - DAY
</b>
A weird mechanical sound rises above the whining of the wind. A
strange probe robot, with several extended sensors, emerges from the
smoke-shrouded crater. The ominous mechanical probe floats across the
snow plain and disappears into the distance.
<b>EXT. PLAIN OF HOTH - DAY
</b>
A small figure gallops across the windswept ice slope. The bundled
rider is mounted on a large gray snow lizard, a Tauntaun. Curving
plumes of snow rise from beneath the speeding paws of the two-legged
beast.
The rider gallops up a slope and reins his lizard to a stop. Pulling
off his protective goggles, Luke Skywalker notices something in the
sky. He takes a pair of electrobinoculars from his utility belt and
through them sees smoke rising from where the probe robot has crashed.
The wind whips at Luke's fur-lined cap and he activates a comlink
transmitter. His Tauntaun shifts and moans nervously beneath him.
<b> LUKE
</b> (into comlink)
Echo Three to Echo Seven. Han,
old buddy, do you read me?
After a little static a familiar voice is heard.
<b> HAN
</b> (over comlink)
Loud and clear, kid. What's up?
<b> LUKE
</b> (into comlink)
Well, I finished my circle. I
don't pick up any life readings.
<b> HAN
</b> (over comlink)
There isn't enough life on this
ice cube to fill a space cruiser.
The sensors are placed, I'm going
back.
<b> LUKE
</b> (into comlink)
Right. I'll see you shortly.
There's a meteorite that hit the
ground near here. I want to check
it out. It won't take long.
Luke clicks off his transmitter and reins back on his nervous lizard.
He pats the beast on the head to calm it.
<b> LUKE
</b> Hey, steady girl. What's the
matter? You smell something?
Luke takes a small device from his belt and starts to adjust it when
suddenly a large shadow falls over him from behind. He hears a
monstrous howl and turns to see an eleven-foot-tall shape towering over
him. It is a Wampa Ice Creature, lunging at him ferociously.
<b> LUKE
</b> Aaargh!
Luke grabs for his pistol, but is hit flat in the face by a huge white
claw. He falls unconscious into the snow and in a moment the terrified
screams of the Tauntaun are cut short by the horrible snap of a neck
being broken.
The Wampa Ice Creature grabs Luke by one ankle and drags him away
across the frozen plain.
<b>EXT. HOTH - REBEL BASE ENTRANCE - DAY
</b>
A stalwart figure rides his Tauntaun up to the entrance of an enormous
ice cave.
<b>INT. HOTH - REBEL BASE - MAIN HANGAR DECK
</b>
Rebel troopers rush about unloading
|
probe
|
How many times does the word 'probe' appear in the text?
| 3
|
<b>EXT. ALLEYS AND STREETS - SERIES OF ANGLES - DAWN
</b>
The streets and alleys of Ft. Dupree at dawn. On sound we hear
the clucking of DOVES. A garbage truck appears. Details of the
mechanisms at the back of the truck.
<b>NEW ANGLE
</b>
KIT CARRUTHERS, the hero, a 25-year-old garbageman, kneels beside
a dead dog. He inspects it briefly. then looks back at his friend
and co-worker, CATO, a stocky man in his forties.
<b>KIT
</b>I'll give you a dollar to eat this collie.
Cato inspects the dog.
<b>CATO
</b>I'm not going to eat him for a dollar... I don't think he's a
collie, either. Some kind of dog.
They drive off.
<b>KIT
</b>Watch your heads.
<b>NEW ANGLE
</b>
The truck comes to a stop. Kit bangs on the driver's door.
<b>KIT
</b>Hey. Woody. Gimme a cigarette.
WOODY waves him off. Kit shrugs to Cato.
<b>KIT
</b>Woody wouldn't give me a cigarette. (pause) Ever notice he don't
talk much?
Cato agrees with this. They make a terrible racket, with no
regard for the sleep of the neighbors.
<b>EXT. STREET
</b>
Holly, whispering some rhyme to herself, twirls a baton in the
middle of an empty street.
HOLLY (v.o.)
Little did I realize that what began in the alleys and back ways
of this quiet town would end in the Badlands of Montana.
<b>EXT. ALLEY
</b>
Kit tries to sell a passing BUM a pair of shoes.
<b>BUM
</b>Nah. they wouldn't fit.
<b>KIT
</b>How do you know? You hadn't tried them on yet.
<b>BUM
</b>Nah.
<b>KIT
</b>Gimme a dollar for them... Cost twenty new.
The Bum walks off. Kit pitches the shoes to Cato.
<b>KIT
</b>Why don't you see if they fit you?
Cato picks them up and looks at them.
<b>CLOSE ON TRASH CAN
</b>
Kit is culling through a trash can, looking for valuables.
reading other people's mail, etc.
KIT (o.c.)
This lady don't ever pay her bills. She's gonna get in trouble if
she doesn't watch out.
Cato, ignoring him, picks up a magazine that is lying in the
grass. When the CAMERA returns to Kit, he has stripped off his
apron.
<b>KIT
</b>I throwed enough trash for today, Cato.... I'll see you In the
morning.
He slaps Cato on the back and walks off. Cato throws a mouldy
loaf of bread at his back.
<b>CATO
</b>Catch!
<b>KIT
</b>What do you mean?
He throws the loaf back at Cato.
<b>EXT. ALLEYS
</b>
Kit walks through the deserted alleys of the sleeping town... as
the MAIN TITLES APPEAR. He balances a stolen mop on his finger;
he stomps a can and looks around to see if anyone has spotted him
at this. As the CREDITS end he sees Holly in front of her house
twirling her baton. He crosses the street and introduces himself.
<b>EXT. FRONT LAWN
</b>
<b>KIT
</b>Hi, I'm Kit. I'm not keeping you from anything important
|
this
|
How many times does the word 'this' appear in the text?
| 4
|
Shooting Script
<b>
</b>
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> CLOSE ON A MASSIVE STEEL HEAD
</b>
Our first thought: DR. DOOM? But it's not moving. A
welder's torch sparks into frame in the hands of a sculptor
on scaffolding. This is art, an epic 20 foot statue going up
of a business mogul (VICTOR VON DOOM) in whose generously
extended hands sit two intertwined columns of DNA. His face
is chiseled, angular, perfect (too perfect). Past sparks, we
MOVE down to pick up...
<b> EXT. STREET/VON DOOM INDUSTRIES TOWER - DAY
</b>
REED RICHARDS and BEN GRIMM head toward the soaring glass-box
atrium of VDI Headquarters. Designed to inspire awe, it
does.
<b> REED
</b> High open space, exposed structural
elements. Obviously aimed at first
time visitors to create feelings of...
smallness, inadequacy.
Ben glances at Reed, who looks a little nervous.
<b> BEN
</b> Good thing it ain't workin... Reed,
what are we doing here? This guy's
fast-food, strip-mall science --
<b> REED
</b> This wasn't our first stop, in case
you forgot NASA. And Victor's not
that bad. He's just a little...
(seeing the statue)
Larger than life.
|
reed
|
How many times does the word 'reed' appear in the text?
| 4
|
<b>BENEATH IT, THE NEXT LINE FADES IN:
</b>
Because a dog is smarter than its tail.
<b>CROSS-FADE TO THE NEXT CARD, WHICH READS:
</b>
If the tail were smarter, the tail would wag the dog.
<b>DISSOLVE
</b>
<b>FADE IN:
</b>
<b>EXT THE WHITE HOUSE NIGHT
</b>
<b>A VAN FULL OF PEOPLE STOPS AT A SIDE ENTRANCE.
</b>
<b>ANGLE INT THE WHITE HOUSE
</b>
<b>AT THE SIDE, UTILITY ENTRANCE, WE SEE THE DISGORGING WORKING-CLASS MEN AND
</b><b>WOMEN, THEY PASS THROUGH SECURITY SCREENING IN THE B.G., THROUGH METAL
</b><b>DETECTORS, AND PAST SEVERAL GUARDS WHO CHECK THE PHOTO-I.D.'S AROUND THEIR
</b><b>NECKS.
</b>
<b>ANGLE INT THE WHITE HOUSE
</b>
<u>WILFRED AMES</u>, AND <u>AMY CAIN</u>, A BRIGHT YOUNG WOMAN IN HER TWENTIES, WALKING DOWN
<b>A CORRIDOR, LOOKING WORRIED.
</b>
<b>ANGLE AMES AND CAIN
</b><b>AMES AND CAIN HAVE STOPPED AT THE END OF THE HALL. BEYOND THEM WE SEE THE
</b><b>CLEANING PEOPLE COMING IN FROM THE VAN, AND BEING CLEARED THROUGH A METAL
</b><b>DETECTOR INTO A HOLDING AREA, AND HANDED CLEANING MATERIALS, MOPS, VACUUMS, ET
</b><b>CETERA, BY A TYPE HOLDING A CLIPBOARD. PART OF THE GROUP, A MAN IN HIS
</b><b>FORTIES, IN A RATTY JACKET, OPEN COLLARED SHIRT, PASSES THROUGH THE GROUP,
</b><b>AND IS STOPPED BY A SECRET SERVICEMAN WHO APPEARS NEXT TO AMES. IN THE B.G.
</b><b>WE SEE A TV IN AN ADJACENT ROOM, SHOWING A POLITICAL COMMERCIAL.
</b>
<b> AMES
</b><b> (TO SECRET SERVICEMAN)
</b> ...That's him.
<b>AMES MOVES OUT OF THE SHOT. LEAVING US ON THE POLITICAL COMMERCIAL.
</b>
<b>WE SEE TWO BUSINESS PEOPLE ON THE PLANE, A MAN AND A WOMAN.
</b>
<b> BUSINESSMAN
</b> Well, all I know, you don't change horses in the middle
of the stream.
<b> BUSINESSWOMAN
</b> "Don't change Horses," well, there's a lot of truth in
that.
<b>THE IMAGE SHIFTS TO A PRESIDENT, DOING PRESIDENTIAL THINGS. AND THE VOICE-
</b><b>OVER.
</b>
<b> VOICE-OVER
</b> For Peace
|
than
|
How many times does the word 'than' appear in the text?
| 0
|
ONDE GIRL joins the boy. The Bearded
Man tries to call them, but they RUN OFF, FACES UNSEEN. He
<b> COLLAPSES.
</b>
The barrel of a rifle ROLLS the Bearded Man onto his back. A
JAPANESE SECURITY GUARD looks down at him, then calls up the
beach to a colleague leaning against a JEEP. Behind them is a
cliff, and on top of that, a JAPANESE CASTLE.
<b> INT. ELEGANT DINING ROOM, JAPANESE CASTLE - LATER
</b>
The Security Guard waits as an ATTENDANT speaks to an ELDERLY
JAPANESE MAN sitting at the dining table, back to us.
<b> ATTENDANT
</b> (in Japanese)
He was delirious. But he asked for
you by name. And...
(to the Security Guard)
Show him.
<b> SECURITY GUARD
</b> (in Japanese)
He was carrying nothing but this...
He puts a HANDGUN on the table. The Elderly Man keeps eating.
<b> SECURITY GUARD
</b> ...and this.
The Security Guard places a SMALL PEWTER CONE alongside the
gun. The Elderly Man STOPS eating. Picks up the cone.
<b> ELDERLY JAPANESE MAN
</b> (in Japanese)
Bring him here. And some food.
<b> INT. SAME - MOMENTS LATER
</b>
The Elderly Man watches the Bearded Man WOLF down his food.
He SLIDES the handgun down the table towards him.
<b> ELDERLY JAPANESE MAN
</b> (in English)
Are you here to kill me?
The Bearded Man glances up at him, then back to his food.
<b> 2.
</b>
The Elderly Japanese Man picks up the cone between thumb and
forefinger.
<b> ELDERLY JAPANESE MAN
</b> I know what this is.
He SPINS it onto a table- it CIRCLES gracefully across the
polished ebony... a SPINNING TOP.
<b> ELDERLY JAPANESE MAN
</b> I've seen one before. Many, many
years ago...
The Elderly Japanese Man STARES at the top mesmerized.
<b> ELDERLY JAPAN
|
attendant
|
How many times does the word 'attendant' appear in the text?
| 1
|
<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
|
drum
|
How many times does the word 'drum' appear in the text?
| 2
|
</b>
A FULL MOON FILLS THE FRAME -- Luminous, tinged with gold.
Slowly, a penumbral shadow begins to spread across the
moon's surface, darkening it from left to right...
<b> BELLA (V.O.)
</b> "These violent delights have violent
ends..."
... until the moon is enveloped in shadow; a new moon...
which disappears into the darkness.
OVER BLACK - A RUFFLED TULIP appears, isolated against the
blackness.
<b> BELLA (V.O.)
</b> "... And in their triumph die, like
fire and powder..."
HOLD ON the tulip as the background FADES UP around it to
reveal we're now in --
<b>EXT. FOREST - ECU ON THE TULIP - DAY
</b>
It's surrounded by the dark, lush, greenery of the forest
floor.
<b> BELLA (V.O.)
</b> "... Which, as they kiss, consume..."
SUDDENLY A FOOT SLAMS DOWN next to the tulip, nearly
crushing it. As the foot immediately lifts off again, it
grazes the tulip, knocking its petals off --
<b>ON THE RUNNING PAIR OF FEET
</b>They abruptly change direction. Race on. INCLUDE BELLA
SWAN, desperately searching the woods -- SHORT, SURREAL CUTS
of her frenetic quest --
<b>
|
moon
|
How many times does the word 'moon' appear in the text?
| 3
|
by Howard Breslin
<b> SHOOTING DRAFT
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> FADE IN BEFORE MAIN TITLE
</b>
<b> BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK
</b>
<b> ESTABLISHING SHOT - BLACK ROCK - PART OF TOWN: FOCAL POINT:
</b><b> RAILROAD STATION
</b>
abandoned, in an extreme state of dilapidation. The structure
is blistered by the resolute sun, the roof is weather-warped.
Dry rot and mildew wage a relentless battle against the
foundation. Between the building and the tracks is a long,
somewhat narrow platform, its floorboards twisted by time,
termites and the elements. The match-board overhang of the
building, throwing some little shade to a portion of the
platform, sags and bellies. From the overhang is appended a
rectangular panel on which, in flaky paint, the town is
identified:
<b> BLACK ROCK
</b>
One of the broken wires holding the panel is longer than the
other, cocking the sign irregularly.
The railroad tracks reach endlessly into the horizon. Past
the town on each side stretches the ocean-like prairie, with
sand dunes rising and falling monotonously, shouldering each
other toward infinity. The morning sun lays over this
wasteland of the American Southwest, a gigantic yellow bruise
from which heat waves like bloodshot arteries spread
themselves over the poisoned sky.
A small shack stands next to the station, separated from it
by a narrow alleyway and leaning toward the larger building,
as if for support. The words POSTAL TELEGRAPH are arced across
its dusty vitrine. An old straight-backed chair, reinforced
with twisted wire, is tilted against the north-west corner
of the shack. In it is Mr. Hastings, the postal telegraph
agent, a man of middle years
|
monotonously
|
How many times does the word 'monotonously' appear in the text?
| 0
|
potatoes, and still he had threepence to the good,
besides the sixpence the gentleman gave him, which was clear profit. The
sixpence was evidently a great prize to him, for he looked at it long
and earnestly.
"Wish I could keep it for mysel'," he muttered; "but it's no go--the
guv'nor will 'ave to 'ave it. But the coppers I'll keep 'ginst bad
times. Here, Nell," he said, nudging his sister, "you keep these 'ere
coppers; and then if the guv'nor axes me if I has any more, I can tell
him no."
"All right, Benny." And again the great round eyes sought the glowing
grate, and the sweet smile played over her face once more.
"What are 'e looking at, Nell?" said Benny, after a pause. "You look as
'appy as a dead duck in a saucepan."
"Oh, Benny, I see such beautiful pictures in the fire. Don't you
'members on fine days how we looks across the river and sees the great
hills 'way behind Birkenhead, such miles an' miles away?"
"Ay, I 'members. I'll take 'e across the river some day, Nell, when I'se
richer."
"Will 'e, Benny? I shall be so glad. But I sees great hills in the fire,
an' trees, an' pools, an' little rivers, an' oh! such lots of purty
things."
"Queer!" said Benny. "I don't see nowt o' sort."
Then there was silence again, and Joe--who had been to see that the
lamps at each end of the torn-up street were all right--came up.
"How are 'e now, my 'arties? Are 'e warmer'n you was?"
"Ay, Joe, we's nice now," said Nelly; "an' we's much 'bliged to you for
lettin' us come."
"Oh, ye're welcome. But ain't it time you was to home?"
"What's o'clock?" said Benny.
"Seven, all to a minit or so."
"Ay, then, we must be off," said the children in chorus; and wishing Joe
good night, they darted off into the wet, cold street, and disappeared
in the gloom.
"Purty little hangel!" said Joe, as he stood looking up the street long
after they had disappeared. "I wonder what will become o' her when she
grows up?"
CHAPTER II.
Addler's Hall.
The whole court
Went boiling, bubbling up from all the doors
And windows, with a hideous wail of laughs
And roar of oaths, and blows, perhaps.... I passed
Too quickly for distinguishing ... and pushed
A little side door hanging on a hinge,
And plunged into the dark.
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
On the western side of Scotland Road--that is to say, between it and
the Docks--there is a regular network of streets, inhabited mostly by
the lowest class of the Liverpool poor. And those who have occasion to
penetrate their dark and filthy recesses are generally thankful when
they find themselves safe out again. In the winter those streets and
courts are kept comparatively clean by the heavy rains; but in the
summer the air fairly reeks with the stench of decayed fish, rotting
vegetables, and every other conceivable kind of filth.
The children, that seem to fairly swarm in this neighbourhood, are
nearly all of a pale, sallow complexion, and of stunted growth. Shoes
and stockings and underclothing are luxuries that they never know, and
one good meal a day is almost more than they dare hope for. Cuffs and
kicks they reckon upon every day of their lives; and in this they are
rarely disappointed, and a lad who by dodging or cunning can escape this
daily discipline is looked upon by the others as "'mazin
|
great
|
How many times does the word 'great' appear in the text?
| 3
|
ist thou be,
For this so friendly ayde in time of neede.
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my _Ãneas_ spends himselfe in plaints,
And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.
_Ãn._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course,
_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea,
And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles.
How many dangers haue we ouer past?
Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks,
The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate
Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue!
Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend,
And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne,
Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride.
_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God,
That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy,
And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes:
Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy browes:
Though we be now in extreame miserie,
And rest the map of weatherbeaten woe:
Yet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his aire,
To make vs liue vnto our former heate,
And euery beast the forrest doth send forth,
Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.
_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate.
_Ãn._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild:
Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe,
That we may make a fire to warme vs with,
And rost our new found victuals on this shoare.
_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out,
How neere my sweet _Ãneas_ art thou driuen?
_Ãn._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire,
You shall haue leaues and windfall bowes enow
Neere to these woods, to rost your meate withall:
_Ascanius_, goe and drie thy drenched lims,
Whiles I with my _Achates_ roaue abroad,
To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabite it.
_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit
For Cities, and societies supports:
Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde,
No steps of men imprinted in the earth.
_Venus._ Now is the time for me to play my part:
Hoe yong men, saw you as you came
Any of all my Sisters wandring here?
Hauing a quiuer girded to her side,
And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin.
_Ãn._ I neither saw nor heard of any such:
But what may I faire Virgin call your name?
Whose lookes set forth no mortall forme to view,
Nor speech bewraies ought humaine in thy birth,
Thou art a Goddesse that delud'st our eyes,
And shrowdes thy beautie in this borrowd shape;
But whether thou the Sunnes bright Sister be,
Or one of chast _Dianas_ fellow Nimphs,
Liue happie in the height of all content,
And lighten our extreames with this one boone,
As to instruct us vnder what good heauen
We breathe as now, and what this world is calde,
On which by tempests furie we are cast,
Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant,
And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack
With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize.
_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect:
It is the vse for Turen maides to weare
Their
|
withall
|
How many times does the word 'withall' appear in the text?
| 0
|
</b>
<b> SHOOTING DRAFT
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> CREDITS
</b>
Still-life tableaus. Lawford, N.H., a town of fifty buildings
on a glacial ridge, neither mountain nor plateau. Developed
as 1880's forestland, discarded in the Depression. Winter
has set in. Halloween day. Snowy fields yield to overcast
skies: oppressive, horizonless, flourescent.
-- Wickham's Restaurant. Where Route 29 bends. 24-hour diner.
Margie Fogg works here.
-- Trailer park in shadow of Parker Mountain. Home of Wade
Whitehouse.
-- Toby's Inn. Roadhouse three miles from town on the river
side of Route 29. Everything not tied down ends up here.
-- Glen Whitehouse farm. White clapboard.
-- First Congregational Church. North on the Common from
City Hall.
-- LaRiviere Co. Ramshackle well-digging firm embarrassingly
near the town center. Wade works here.
-- Merritt's Shell Station. Cinder-block.
-- Alma Pittman's house. Like so many others.
-- Town Hall.
ROLFE WHITEHOUSE'S VOICE, thirtiesh, articulate, speaks over
credit tableaus:
<b> ROLFE (V.O.)
</b> This is the story of my older
brother's strange criminal behavior
and disappearance. We who loved him
no longer speak of Wade. It's as if
he never existed. By telling his
story like this, as his brother, I
separate myself from his family and
those who loved
|
town
|
How many times does the word 'town' appear in the text?
| 3
|
pieces and several objects--a traveling-clock, a
portfolio, a box of stationery--lay on the floor. And there was blood
on some of the scattered pieces of note-paper.
The doctor turned back the sheet that covered the corpse. Jean Daval,
dressed in his usual velvet suit, with a pair of nailed boots on his
feet, lay stretched on his back, with one arm folded beneath him. His
collar and tie had been removed and his shirt opened, revealing a large
wound in the chest.
"Death must have been instantaneous," declared the doctor. "One blow of
the knife was enough."
"It was, no doubt, the knife which I saw on the drawing-room
mantelpiece, next to a leather cap?" said the examining magistrate.
"Yes," said the Comte de Gesvres, "the knife was picked up here. It
comes from the same trophy in the drawing room from which my niece,
Mlle. de Saint-Veran, snatched the gun. As for the chauffeur's cap,
that evidently belongs to the murderer."
M. Filleul examined certain further details in the room, put a few
questions to the doctor and then asked M. de Gesvres to tell him what
he had seen and heard. The count worded his story as follows:
"Jean Daval woke me up. I had been sleeping badly, for that matter,
with gleams of consciousness in which I seemed to hear noises, when,
suddenly opening my eyes, I saw Daval standing at the foot of my bed,
with his candle in his hand and fully dressed--as he is now, for he
often worked late into the night. He seemed greatly excited and said,
in a low voice: 'There's some one in the drawing room.' I heard a noise
myself. I got up and softly pushed the door leading to this boudoir. At
the same moment, the door over there, which opens into the big drawing
room, was thrown back and a man appeared who leaped at me and stunned
me with a blow on the temple. I am telling you this without any
details, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, for the simple reason that I
remember only the principal facts, and that these facts followed upon
one another with extraordinary swiftness."
"And after that?--"
"After that, I don't know--I fainted. When I came to, Daval lay
stretched by my side, mortally wounded."
"At first sight, do you suspect no one?"
"No one."
"You have no enemy?"
"I know of none."
"Nor M. Daval either?"
"Daval! An enemy? He was the best creature that ever lived. M. Daval
was my secretary for twenty years and, I may say, my confidant; and I
have never seen him surrounded with anything but love and friendship."
"Still, there has been a burglary and there has been a murder: there
must be a motive for all that."
"The motive? Why, it was robbery pure and simple."
"Robbery? Have you been robbed of something, then?"
"No, nothing."
"In that case--?"
"In that case, if they have stolen nothing and if nothing is missing,
they at least took something away."
"What?"
"I don't know. But my daughter and my niece will tell you, with
absolute certainty, that they saw two men in succession cross the park
and that those two men were carrying fairly heavy loads."
"The young ladies--"
"The young ladies may have been dreaming, you think? I should be
tempted to believe it, for I have been exhausting myself in inquiries
and suppositions ever since this morning. However, it is easy enough to
question them."
The two cousins were sent for to the big drawing room. Suzanne, still
quite pale and trembling, could hardly speak. Raymonde, who was more
energetic, more of a man, better looking, too, with the golden glint in
her brown eyes, described the events of the night and the part which
she had played in them.
"So I may take it, mademoiselle, that your evidence is positive?"
"Absolutely. The men who went across the park were carrying things away
with them
|
confidant
|
How many times does the word 'confidant' appear in the text?
| 0
|
"Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name
But what's puzzling you, is the nature of my game."
The Rolling Stones, 1968
<b> 1.
</b>
<b> INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - NIGHT
</b>
CLOSE on the needle of a precision-weighted 33rpm turntable.
It comes down, touches vinyl. The Rolling Stones "Sympathy
for the Devil" purrs out...
ARTHUR BISHOP (40's) Sitting in a comfortable wooden chair,
stares right through us. Lean, hard, in perfect physical
shape. In this moment, carrying the stillness of someone
utterly in balance. For all we know, he's been sitting this
way for hours.
<b> BISHOP (V.O.)
</b> Every man has a death that's right
for him. Every one.
REVERSE to find a wall of photographs, charts, official
documents. In the center A PHOTOGRAPH of a man, mid-40's,
East-Indian, dressed like the billionaire he is. Dodi Fayed
meets Bill Gates. THE MARK.
<b> BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
</b> For every man, there's a way to
leave this earth which is so right
for them, it's almost as if they
carry it with them.
MOVING over the wall. MORE PHOTOGRAPHS. The Mark escorted
from a bullet-proof sedan by ear-wired men. Entertaining at
a palatial estate. Magazine covers: "The billion-dollar
lifestyle." "The new Playboy." ...passing over smaller
articles: "What does this man do with your money?"
<b> BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
</b> When the right death overtakes a
man, there will be grief in those
who knew him, but there will also
be a sense of inevitability.
Because they will know, that of
course...
CLOSE ON BISHOP. Statue-like, except his eyes which dart
across the wall in front of him, making connections...
<b> EXT. RURAL RACETRACK - DAY
</b>
VINTAGE RACE CARS speed by, a blur of color. But all we hear
is the Rolling Stones' song. And...
<b> BISHOP (V.O.)
</b> ...Of course,
|
bishop
|
How many times does the word 'bishop' appear in the text?
| 6
|
the most famous documents in the
history of the world - the official
record of the trial of Joan of Arc.
The Bibliothèque Nationale's original record of the trial of
Joan of Arc is shown on the screen. An invisible hand turns
over the manuscript pages.
... If you turn over the pages,
yellow with age, which contain the
account of her martyrdom ...
Page after page is shown of this unique document with its
lines as straight as arrows, its marginal annotations, and
the naïve miniature drawings for which the notaries have
found time and space.
... you will find Joan herself ...
not the military genius who
inflicted on the enemy defeat after
defeat, but a simple and natural
young girl ... who died for her
country.
The last pages are turned. Then the picture disappears and
gives way to the first scene of the film, which shows
1 The prison, where Joan is sitting, praying. The flagstones,
the floor in Joan's cell. We see two straws and a hand,
Joan's hand, which lays the straws on the floor in the form
of a cross.
2 Scenes from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.
3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -
this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in
ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her
forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling
with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she
saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters
a short prayer.
<b>4 THE CHURCH
</b>
A young monk makes his way through rows of kneeling priests.
He is the Usher Massieu, who is on his way to summon Joan and
conduct her to her first examination.
<b>5 THE PRISON
</b>
Joan in front of her little cross. Suddenly the two straws
spin round in a mysterious gust of wind. What is it?
<b> 2.
</b>
Joan sits for a moment, overcome with astonishment, then puts
the straws back in the form of a cross. Again a hostile power
attacks this cross and scatters it over the flagstones. Joan
doesn't know what to believe. Can it be one of her voices? A
divine intervention? Once again she replaces the cross. Then
there is a roar of laughter from the door behind her. Joan
turns and sees three soldiers, who have been standing in the
half-open door, blowing at her straw cross through a long
tube.
Enter the soldiers. They are tormentors and bullies of the
worst kind. They continue to jeer at her.
6 Now the jailer appears, an elderly man, followed by a
|
record
|
How many times does the word 'record' appear in the text?
| 1
|
sign compact in Washington.
Proposition just made to Portugal, and may be accepted. Special envoys
now working in Mexico and Central and South America. Germany invited to
join, but refuses as yet, giving, however, tacit support; attitude of
Russia and Japan unknown to me. Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi, believed to
be in Washington at present, has absolute power to sign for Italy,
France and Spain. Profound secrecy enjoined and preserved. I learned of
it by underground. Shall I inform our minister? Cable instructions."
"So much!" commented Mr. Campbell.
He clasped his hands behind his head, lay back in his chair and sat for
a long time, staring with steadfast, thoughtful eyes into the impassive
face of his subordinate. Mr. Grimm perched himself on the edge of the
desk and with his legs dangling read the despatch a second time, and a
third.
"If," he observed slowly, "if any other man than Gault had sent that I
should have said he was crazy."
"The peace of the world is in peril, Mr. Grimm," said Campbell
impressively, at last. "It had to come, of course, the United States and
England against a large part of Europe and all of Central and South
America. It had to come, and yet--!"
He broke off abruptly, and picked up the receiver of his desk
telephone.
"The White House, please," he requested curtly, and then, after a
moment: "Hello! Please ask the president if he will receive Mr. Campbell
immediately. Yes, Mr. Campbell of the Secret Service." There was a
pause. Mr. Grimm removed his immaculate person from the desk, and took a
chair. "Hello! In half an hour? So much!"
The pages of the Almanac de Gotha fluttered through his fingers, and
finally he leaned forward and studied a paragraph of it closely. When he
raised his eyes again there was that in them which Mr. Grimm had never
seen before--a settled, darkening shadow.
"The world-war has long been a chimera, Mr. Grimm," he remarked at last,
"but now--now! Think of it! Of course, the Central and South American
countries, taken separately, are inconsequential, and that is true, too,
of the Latin countries of Europe, except France, but taken in
combination, under one directing mind, the allied navies would be--would
be formidable, at least. Backed by the moral support of Germany, and
perhaps Japan--! Don't you see? Don't you see?"
He lapsed into silence. Mr. Grimm opened his lips to ask a question: Mr.
Campbell anticipated it unerringly:
"The purpose of such an alliance? It is not too much to construe it into
the first step toward a world-war--a war of reprisal and conquest beside
which the other great wars of the world would seem trivial. For the fact
has at last come home to the nations of the world that ultimately the
English-speaking peoples will dominate it--dominate it, because they are
the practical peoples. They have given to the world all its great
practical inventions--the railroad, the steamship, electricity, the
telegraph and cable--all of them; they are the great civilizing forces,
rounding the world up to new moral understanding, for what England has
done in Africa and India we have done in a smaller way in the
Philippines and Cuba and Porto Rico; they are the great commercial
peoples, slowly but surely winning the market-places of the earth;
wherever the English or the American flag is planted there the English
tongue is being spoken, and there the peoples are being taught the
sanity of right living and square dealing.
"It requires no great effort of the imagination, Mr. Grimm, to foresee
that day when the traditional power of Paris, and Berlin, and St.
Petersburg, and Madrid will be honey-combed by the steady encroachment
of our methods. This alliance would indicate that already that day has
been foreseen; that there is now a resentment which is about to find
expression in one great, desperate struggle for world supremacy. A few
hundred years ago Italy--or Rome--was stripped of her power; only
recently the United States dispelled the illusion that Spain was
anything but
|
peoples
|
How many times does the word 'peoples' appear in the text?
| 3
|
Fusion, often toted as
the solution to humanity's future energy needs.
There is one major problem...
Helium3 is extremely scarce on Earth. The gas does,
however, exist in abundance on the Earth's only natural
satellite:
The Moon.
Should we turn to Cold Fusion in the future, it is
conceivable that man will mine the Moon for Helium3 and
bring the precious gas back to Earth...
<b>
</b><b> 2.
</b>
<b> IN THE BLACK:
</b>
We hear something -- a machine -- CHURNING and POUNDING.
Constant. Rhythmic. Though the sound is slightly familiar,
we're not sure what it is yet. Hold for a few seconds and
then
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>1 INT. REC ROOM -- MORNING 1
</b>
The sound belongs to a regular old TREADMILL like you see
in most gyms across the world. Running on it: SAM BELL, mid
thirties, thick beard, handsome, striking blue eyes.
Sam's face is flushed and glistening with sweat. He lunges
for a towel draped over the treadmill's bar, dabs his face
as he runs.
We see OUTSIDE THE WINDOW: A gray, powdery landscape
stretching beneath a BLACK SKY.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>2 EXT. MOON -- MORNING 2
</b>
Aerial view of the Earth's only natural satellite, the
camera roaming about a hundred feet off the surface.
Desolation. Serious, uncompromising, desolation. This place
makes Antarctica look like Tokyo.
And utter silence.
Eventually the camera arrives at a moon base, DIVING DOWN
towards it --
<b> TITLE CARD: "MINING BASE SELENE. CREW: 1."
</b>
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>3 INT. BATHROOM\SHOWER -- MORNING 3
</b>
Sam takes a shower, treading in a tight circle beneath the
nozzle, eyes closed, hot water blasting his face
|
face
|
How many times does the word 'face' appear in the text?
| 2
|
.
He was a strange, inconsequent mixture of courage and timidity. You and
I are consistent in character; we are either one thing or the other but
Denry Machin had no consistency.
For three days he hesitated, and then, secretly trembling, he slipped
into Shillitoe's, the young tailor who had recently set up, and who was
gathering together the _jeunesse dorée_ of the town.
"I want a dress-suit," he said.
Shillitoe, who knew that Denry only earned eighteen shillings a week,
replied with only superficial politeness that a dress-suit was out of
the question; he had already taken more orders than he could execute
without killing himself. The whole town had uprisen as one man and
demanded a dress-suit.
"So you're going to the ball, are you?" said Shillitoe, trying to
condescend, but, in fact, slightly impressed.
"Yes," said Denry; "are you?"
Shillitoe started and then shook his head. "No time for balls," said he.
"I can get you an invitation, if you like," said Denry, glancing at the
door precisely as he had glanced at the door before adding 2 to 7.
"Oh!" Shillitoe cocked his ears. He was not a native of the town, and
had no alderman to protect his legitimate interests.
To cut a shameful story short, in a week Denry was being tried on.
Shillitoe allowed him two years' credit.
The prospect of the ball gave an immense impetus to the study of the art
of dancing in Bursley, and so put quite a nice sum of money info the
pocket of Miss Earp, a young mistress in that art. She was the daughter
of a furniture dealer with a passion for the Bankruptcy Court. Miss
Earp's evening classes were attended by Denry, but none of his money
went into her pocket. She was compensated by an expression of the
Countess's desire for the pleasure of her company at the ball.
The Countess had aroused Denry's interest in women as a sex; Ruth Earp
quickened the interest. She was plain, but she was only twenty-four, and
very graceful on her feet. Denry had one or two strictly private lessons
from her in reversing. She said to him one evening, when he was
practising reversing and they were entwined in the attitude prescribed
by the latest fashion: "Never mind me! Think about yourself. It's the
same in dancing as it is in life--the woman's duty is to adapt herself
to the man." He did think about himself. He was thinking about himself
in the middle of the night, and about her too. There had been something
in her tone... her eye... At the final lesson he inquired if she would
give him the first waltz at the ball. She paused, then said yes.
V
On the evening of the ball, Denry spent at least two hours in the
operation which was necessary before he could give the Countess the
pleasure of his company. This operation took place in his minute bedroom
at the back of the cottage in Brougham Street, and it was of a complex
nature. Three weeks ago he had innocently thought that you had only to
order a dress-suit and there you were! He now knew that a dress-suit is
merely the beginning of anxiety. Shirt! Collar! Tie! Studs! Cuff-links!
Gloves! Handkerchief! (He was very glad to learn authoritatively from
Shillitoe that handkerchiefs were no longer worn in the waistcoat
opening, and that men who so wore them were barbarians and the truth was
not in them. Thus, an everyday handkerchief would do.) Boots!... Boots
were the rock on which he had struck. Shillitoe, in addition to being a
tailor was a hosier, but by some flaw in the scheme of the universe
hosiers do not sell boots. Except boots, Denry could get all he needed
on credit; boots he could not get on credit, and he could not pay cash
for them. Eventually he decided that his church boots must be dazzled up
to the level of this great secular occasion. The pity was that he
forgot--not
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 8
|
The sun disappears behind arid cliffs which cast giant
shadows on the sea.
A little boy around 8 years old -- tanned from head to toe
-- sprints along the cliffs, scrambles from one rock to
another with amazing agility.
In one hand, he carries a transparent plastic bag. In the
other, a net bag containing flippers, mask, pants and
sweater.
The only thing that slows him down is his bathing suit --
obvious hand-me-downs -- way too big. He tugs on them as
he goes, holding them up... Until they slide again... as
he leaps again... and pulls them up...
The little boy is JACQUES MAYOL.
End credits.
<b>EXT. GREEK ISLAND - SUNSET
</b>
JACQUES reaches a ledge jutting out over a deserted cove.
He spits in his mask... expertly spreads the spit with a
finger... locks his feet into the flippers... and dives.
He surfaces a long way out... adjusts his mask... and
swims away from shore.
<b>IN OPEN SEA
</b>
The boy stops swimming -- starts to gulp air -- sucks it
in -- oxygenating his blood in a series of deep rapid
breaths -- almost hyperventilating, almost alarming if
we've never seen this before.
His gaze is glued to the ocean floor. Clear clear water.
40 feet deep. And intensely blue.
Suddenly, he catches his breath and dives -- into the
blue.
<b>UNDERWATER
</b>
JACQUES touches bottom. Clamps his legs around a rock to
hold himself down. Unhurried, thoroughly at home, 40 feet
under... he opens the plastic bag. A huge speckled moray
eel appears in a hole in the rock, slithers toward him.
The carnivore's jaws are bigger than the boy's head.
The boy smiles at him. Pulls a piece of raw meat out of
his bag and holds it out. The eel takes the morsel
delicately -- and slithers back into his hole.
Gravely, JACQUES takes another morsel out of the bag.
<b>EXT. VILLAGE - DUSK
</b>
JACQUES walks up a steep road bordering the port, almost
dry now.
Two boys about his age run up the streets; call out, catch
up with him and gesture toward the port.
<b> THE BOYS
</b> Jacques! Come quick!
<b>EXT. PIER - DUSK
</b>
The little boys tug JACQUES to the end of the pier and
point to something in the water.
<b> BOYS
</b> Look! Right there! It's shining!
JACQUES walks over, and sure enough sees something shining
a few feet down in the water.
<b> JACQUES
</b> (squinting)
A coin.
<b> FIRST BOY
</b> I found it.
<b> SECOND BOY
</b> Liar!
Camera pans and we see a middle-aged PRIEST loading
supplies into a small boat. He stops to watch the
children's negotiations. Little JACQUES is putting his
flippers on.
<b> JACQUES
</b> Ok. I'll get it, but no fighting,
all right?
The two boys nod as they point to the coin.
<b> JACQUES
</b> We'll split it.
<b> FIRST BOY
</b> You can't split a coin. That's
stupid.
<b> SECOND BOY
</b> He's right. You're stupid.
The pope smiles.
|
look
|
How many times does the word 'look' appear in the text?
| 0
|
ROOM - BEFORE DAWN
</b>
22 year old Stephanie Browne is jarred from a peaceful sleep
as the alarm clock BUZZES. She hits the snooze button and
plops back down onto the pillow. After a few seconds of pure
sleeping bliss, she wills herself up.
She moves through her Ikea furnished bedroom, past a "Hang in
there, baby" poster and into the bathroom.
<b> INT. BATHROOM - A MOMENT LATER
</b>
Stephanie turns on the shower. While waiting for the water to
heat up, she looks into the mirror and with exaggerated
pronunciation, recites:
<b> STEPHANIE
</b> There is no friction, with proper
diction. Good sounds abound, when
the mouth is round.
She catches herself on the last word, a hint of "Missouri
twang" slipping through.
<b> STEPHANIE
</b> Round.
Yawn. She slips off her nightgown and lumbers into the
steaming shower.
<b> INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING
</b>
She opens the refrigerator: A half grapefruit sits next to an
inviting slice of chocolate cake. She's tempted, but chooses
the grapefruit.
<b> EXT. VENTURA BOULEVARD PARKING STRUCTURE - MORNING
</b>
A sunny Southern California day. Commuters speed by.
Stephanie's FORD FOCUS pulls into the PARKING STRUCTURE,
across the street from the BANK OF CALIFORNIA. She steps from
the car, smartly dressed for work and walks briskly toward
the intersection. The traffic signal changes to "Don't Walk".
A BUSINESS MAN next to her, sprints across the street.
Stephanie almost follows but decides to obey the sign. She
looks down to see a little KITTEN. It rubs against her ankles
and PURRS.
<b> STEPHANIE
</b> Well, you're a little cutie.
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b>
</b>
<b> 2.
</b> A car's HORN blares, spooking the kitten. It darts into the
intersection and freezes at the sight of an oncoming VAN.
Stephanie races into the intersection, snatches up the kitten
and places it safely down on the other side of the street.
<b>
|
kitten
|
How many times does the word 'kitten' appear in the text?
| 2
|
MANOOJ and SHAMBU, 11 and 9; HASARI'S MOTHER and
FATHER. They embark toward the night, the rising sun
behind them.
<b>EXT. ROADSIDE - BUS STOP - DAY (DAWN)
</b>Hasari's Father passes a gourd of precious water. Hasari
serves the children first. Shambu gulps entirely too
much, the others forcing him to stop by a unified force
of will. Embarrassed, he passes the cup to his brother,
who sips, as does his sister. Aloka barely wets her
lips, insisting on leaving the last drops for Hasari.
And now, a rooster tail of dust rises up behind the
approaching bus and the old parents bid farewell to their
son's family. There is an intense sadness at leaving
the land and Hasari's Mother clings to him...
<b> HASARI
</b> I'll send money soon.
His Mother nods, as Hasari erupts in a small cough which,
by habit, he suppresses. His Mother crushes Aloka to
her.
<b> HASARI'S MOTHER
</b> Don't let the children out of your
sight. Not for a moment.
Now the children. She wants to keep them here even as
the old man touches her, reminding her she must let them
go.
<b> HASARI'S MOTHER
</b> Help your parents. Don't fight
with each other. And, Manooj,
stay away from the cinema, do you
hear?
Shambu, his eyes big as saucers, whispers to his
grandma...
<b> (CONTINUED)
</b><b>
</b><b> 2.
</b><b>CONTINUED:
</b><b> SHAMBU
</b> I don't want to go. There are bad
men with long knives who steal
children.
That does it: Hasari's Mother dissolves in tears, but
the old man nevertheless unlooses her insistently from
the children. Aloka and the children get on the bus as
the old man embraces his son.
<b> HASARI'S FATHER
</b> A man's journey to the end of his
obligations is a very long road.
Yours begins here.
<b>EXT. ROADSIDE/INT. BUS - DAY
</b>There's not an empty inch inside the little vehicle or
on top. The passengers are silent. A woman breast feeds
a baby. Several passengers fan themselves. Many sleep.
The Pals squeeze wearily into the rear seat.
<b> MANOOJ
</
|
father
|
How many times does the word 'father' appear in the text?
| 2
|
Third Draft
<b> 4/10/95
</b>
A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,
of dreams that wave before the half shut eye...
<b> EXT. GNARLED FOREST -- NIGHT
</b>
An UGLY MAN charges through on a horse, holding a lantern
forward on a long pole. He looks back, terrified.
INSERT TITLE: <b>1799 Sleepy Hollow, New York</b>
THUNDEROUS HOOFBEATS are HEARD behind.
The ugly man glances back again. His lantern swings wild...
SHATTERS against a tree. The jammed-up pole SLAMS the ugly
man off his horse...
He hits the ground. He runs, trips, falls and scrambles up.
DEEP IN THE FOREST, we glimpse the source of the HOOFBEATS: a
HUGE FORM on a HUGE BLACK HORSE, already gone.
The ugly man pushes through thorny bushes. Jagged branches
slit his hands and cheeks.
He bursts from the briar patch and tumbles to a trail. He
lifts his bloodied face. He runs.
IN THE FOREST BEHIND: the hooves of the black horse rip
underbrush. HOOFBEATS DEAFENING. A spur digs into the
snorting steed's already bleeding flank.
The pursuer's gloved hand draws a SWORD, blade RINGING.
ON THE TRAIL, the ugly man runs on. The shrill WHISTLE of a
SWORD SWING is HEARD as the pursuer blurs past.
The ugly man is still running when his head lolls back, at an
impossible angle... tumbles off his shoulders... His headless
body hits the dirt.
<b> EXT. CITY STREETS -- NIGHT
</b>
Empty cobblestone streets. Crooked buildings. A RAPIDLY
CLANGING BELL breaks the silence from afar.
INSERT TITLE: <b>New York City</b>
TWO CONSTABLES clamor round a corner, lanterns held high,
listening. They rush into an alleyway.
ELSEWHERE, piers border the Hudson River. The BELL is
LOUDER. The two constables arrive, searching. No one around.
Constable One hefts his pistol, scared.
<b> CONSTABLE ONE
</b> Where are you?!
MAN'S VOICE (o.s.)
Here! Over here!
They hurry to the river's edge. Down a hill, the MAN,
another constable, stands with his back to us. He's waist
deep in water, tossing away his ALARM BELL.
<b>
|
trail
|
How many times does the word 'trail' appear in the text?
| 1
|
face of MINERVA "MINI" DROGUES, 18, watching something.
She looks extremely bored by the television images flickering
across her eyes. She has a pretty face: Large eyes, and pouty
mouth. Her knowing look is incongruous with a face clearly
still that of a girl.
<b>
</b><b> - MINI (V.O.)
</b> I know what you're thinking. Don't
bullshit me, because I do... You're
- thinking, oh dear lord in heaven,
please, I'm begging you. I'll gouge
- out my eyes with the straw in my
drink right now. I'll jam every
last kernel of popcorn into my
- mouth until I suffocate, just not
another fucking teenage coming-of-
age story.
<b>
</b> We pull back to reveal her body, which is moving out of that
awkward stage between adolescence and womanhood. Though tall
and thin, her hips haven't quite rounded. She's wearing a
"FUCT" T-shirt and jean shorts.
<b> MINI (V.O.) (CONT'D)
</b> Well, relax...no prom night
highjinks, no nerds becoming
popular and no Shakespeare set in
high school...I promise.
CLOSE ON: THE TV SCREEN. "When Animals Attack" is on. In a
series of quick cuts:
<b>
</b> A zoo keeper is mauled by an elephant.
<b>
</b> A sport fisherman is attacked on the deck of a boat by a
shark he and his buddies thought was dead.
A pit bull clamps down on his owner's arm.
<b>
</b> An alligator hunter stupidly puts his head in the mouth of a
just-captured alligator, only to have it chomp down on his
skull.
<b>
</b><b>
|
pouty
|
How many times does the word 'pouty' appear in the text?
| 0
|
"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
|
learn
|
How many times does the word 'learn' appear in the text?
| 0
|
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
|
long
|
How many times does the word 'long' appear in the text?
| 2
|
Aunt Frances doesn't think there's anything VERY much the
matter with you. You'll be all right again soon if you just take the
doctor's medicine nicely. Aunt Frances will take care of her precious
little girl. SHE'll make the bad sickness go away." Elizabeth Ann, who
had not known before that she was sick, had a picture of herself lying
in the little white coffin, all covered over with white. ... In a few
minutes Aunt Frances was obliged to excuse herself from her callers and
devote herself entirely to taking care of Elizabeth Ann.
So one day, after this had happened several times, Aunt Frances really
did send for the doctor, who came briskly in, just as Elizabeth Ann had
always seen him, with his little square black bag smelling of leather,
his sharp eyes, and the air of bored impatience which he always wore in
that house. Elizabeth Ann was terribly afraid to see him, for she felt
in her bones he would say she had galloping consumption and would die
before the leaves cast a shadow. This was a phrase she had picked up
from Grace, whose conversation, perhaps on account of her asthma, was
full of references to early graves and quick declines.
And yet--did you ever hear of such a case before?--although Elizabeth
Ann when she first stood up before the doctor had been quaking with fear
lest he discover some deadly disease in her, she was very much hurt
indeed when, after thumping her and looking at her lower eyelid inside
out, and listening to her breathing, he pushed her away with a little
jerk and said: "There's nothing in the world the matter with that child.
She's as sound as a nut! What she needs is ..."--he looked for a moment
at Aunt Frances's thin, anxious face, with the eyebrows drawn together
in a knot of conscientiousness, and then he looked at Aunt Harriet's
thin, anxious face with the eyebrows drawn up that very same way, and
then he glanced at Grace's thin, anxious face peering from the door
waiting for his verdict--and then he drew a long breath, shut his lips
and his little black case very tightly, and did not go on to say what it
was that Elizabeth Ann needed.
Of course Aunt Frances didn't let him off as easily as that, you may be
sure. She fluttered around him as he tried to go, and she said all sorts
of fluttery things to him, like "But, Doctor, she hasn't gained a pound
in three months ... and her sleep ... and her appetite ... and her
nerves ..."
[Illustration: Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.]
The doctor said back to her, as he put on his hat, all the things
doctors always say under such conditions: "More beefsteak ... plenty of
fresh air ... more sleep ... SHE'll be all right ..." but his voice did not
sound as though he thought what he was saying amounted to much. Nor did
Elizabeth Ann. She had hoped for some spectacular red pills to be taken
every half-hour, like those Grace's doctor gave her whenever she felt
low in her mind.
And just then something happened which changed Elizabeth Ann's life
forever and ever. It was a very small thing, too. Aunt Harriet coughed.
Elizabeth Ann did not think it at all a bad-sounding cough in comparison
with Grace's hollow whoop; Aunt Harriet had been coughing like that ever
since the cold weather set in, for three or four months now, and nobody
had thought anything of it, because they were all so much occupied in
taking care of the sensitive, nervous little girl who needed so much
care.
And yet, at the sound of that little discreet cough behind Aunt
Harriet's hand, the doctor whirled around and fixed his sharp eyes on
her, with all the bored, impatient look gone, the first time Elizabeth
Ann had ever seen him look interested. "What's that? What's that?" he
said, going over quickly to Aunt Harriet. He snatched out of his little
bag a shiny thing with two rubber tubes attached, and he put the ends of
the tubes in his ears and the shiny thing up against Aunt Harriet, who
was saying, "It's nothing, Doctor ... a little teasing cough I've had this
winter. And I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot it, that that sore
spot on my lungs doesn't go away as it ought to."
The doctor motioned her very impolitely
|
aunt
|
How many times does the word 'aunt' appear in the text?
| 11
|
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
|
last
|
How many times does the word 'last' appear in the text?
| 1
|
FINAL MOVIE SCRIPT
</b>
** Resized to fit on minimal number of pages**
[Showing Pictures of City Life]
<b> NARRATOR
</b>
No one would have believed in the early
years of the21st century, that our world
was being watched by intelligences greater
than our own. That as men busied themselves
about their various concerns, they observed
and studied. Like the way a man with
a microscope might scrutinize the creatures
that swarm and multiply in a drop of
water. With infinite complacency men
went to and fro about the globe, confident
of our empire over this world. Yet,
across the gulf of space, intellects,
vast and cool and unsympathetic regarded
our plant with envious eyes. And slowly
and surely, drew their plans against
us.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. DOCK - CARGO BAY - DAWN
</b>
Ray (in his 30s, short hair, rough groomed, almost always wears
his New York baseball cap, raggedly dressed, looks like he hasn't
slept in days) is moving cargo boxes from the ship to ground
loading brackets. Shots show him inside the control room operating
the levers. As the last car is loaded, he is seen walking down
the stairs.
<b>
</b><b> SAL
</b>
Ray!! Ferrier! Whoa!
Ray turns away and laughs because he already knows what he is
|
pictures
|
How many times does the word 'pictures' appear in the text?
| 0
|
as we see) the frame Thou gavest,
compacting its limbs, ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general
good and safety, implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest
me to praise Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto
Thy name, Thou most Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even
hadst Thou done nought but only this, which none could do but Thou:
whose Unity is the mould of all things; who out of Thy own fairness
makest all things fair; and orderest all things by Thy law. This age
then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which I take on others' word,
and guess from other infants that I have passed, true though the guess
be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in this
world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's womb, is it
hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But if I was shapen in
iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee, O
my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo! that
period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I can
recall no vestige?
Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me,
displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,--(for whither went it?)--and
yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a
speaking boy. This I remember; and have since observed how I learned to
speak. It was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other
learning) in any set method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents
and various motions of my limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might
have my will, and yet unable to express all I willed, or to whom I
willed, did myself, by the understanding which Thou, my God, gavest me,
practise the sounds in my memory. When they named any thing, and as they
spoke turned towards it, I saw and remembered that they called what they
would point out by the name they uttered. And that they meant this
thing and no other was plain from the motion of their body, the natural
language, as it were, of all nations, expressed by the countenance,
glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and tones of the voice,
indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues, possesses,
rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words, as they
occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they
stood; and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave
utterance to my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these current
signs of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy intercourse
of human life, yet depending on parental authority and the beck of
elders.
O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when
obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in
order that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science,
which should serve to the "praise of men," and to deceitful riches. Next
I was put to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew not
what use there was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For this
was judged right by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course
before us, framed for us weary paths, through which we were fain to
pass; multiplying toil and grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord, we
found that men called upon Thee, and we learnt from them to think of
Thee (according to our powers) as of some great One, who, though hidden
from our senses, couldest hear and help us. For so I began, as a boy, to
pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke the fetters of my tongue to
call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet with no small earnestness,
that I might not be beaten at school. And when Thou heardest me not (not
thereby giving me over to folly), my elders
|
thee
|
How many times does the word 'thee' appear in the text?
| 7
|
1
</b>
<b> INT KITTREDGE'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM DAWN
</b> JOHN FLANDERS KITTREDGE and LOUISA KITTREDGE ("FLAN" and
"OUISA") , an attractive couple in their 40s, in their night
clothes are in an uncharacteristic state of shock.
Some sort of horrible disaster has happened to them.
THEY survey their living room which under normal
circumstances would appear to be a serene haven.
But why are they-so aghast? And terrified?
Has the apartment been violated?
The Fifth Avenue apartment, red and cozy, threadbare with
the legacy of years of kids and dogs running in and out, is
filled with beautiful objects chosen with care. Even though
the apartment is 19th Century in feel, a lot of modern
paintings hang on the walls.
No. No visible disaster here.
But then why FLAN and OUISA's emotional state? THEY run
between the hall and the living room.
<b> OUISA
</b> Is anything gone?
OUISA opens the front closet with trepidation. But nothing
leaps out. SHE sees a mink is still there..
<b> FLAW
</b> How can I look? I'm shaking.
<b> OUISA
</b> My god! The Kandinsky!
0UISA runs into the living room. SHE can see by the
discoloration on that wall that a painting is missing.
<b> OUISA Y
</b> It's gone! Call the police!
<b> FLAN
</b> There it is!
An early abstract painting by Kandinsky leans against a
Philadelphia Chippendale chair: the painting is wild and
brilliantly colored.
<b> 0UISA
</b> Thank god!
SHE picks the painting up and flips it around. It's a double
sided painting. The artist, Kandinsky, had painted in
different styles on either side of the canvas.
|
ouisa
|
How many times does the word 'ouisa' appear in the text?
| 5
|
toward a big sand berm in the
distance. There are O.S. sounds: SOLDIER'S EQUIPMENT
CLANKING, BOOTS RUNNING ON SAND. Hear a MAN's BREATHING.
The back of his helmeted head and his uniformed shoulders
APPEAR in the BOTTOM of the FRAME, running. This is TROY
BARLOW, Sargeant, U.S. Army, 25 years old. On his helmet is
a photo-button with a photo of a newborn baby.
Suddenly, on the sand berm 100 meters ahead, an IRAQI SOLDIER
stands. Troy stops in his tracks, out of breath, and stares
at the figure on the berm. The Iraqi flutters a white flag
over his head, then puts it down and picks up a gun. Troy
turns around, we see his face for the first time.
<b> TROY
</b> Are we shooting people, or what?
<b> SOLDIER #1 (O.S.)
</b> <u>Are we shooting?</u>
<b> TROY
</b> <u>That's what I'm asking you.</u>
<b> SOLDIER #1 (O.S.)
</b> <u>What's the answer?</u>
<b> TROY
</b> <u>I don't know the answer. That's</u>
<u>what I'm trying to find out.</u>
PAN TO THREE SOLDIERS 40 yards away -- ZOOM IN --
SOLDIER #1 unwraps a stick of gum and puts it into his mouth.
TWO OTHER SOLDIERS put out their hands and get pieces of gum.
PAN TO 100 yards away -- ZOOM IN -- SOLDIER #2 stands with
his head tilted back while SOLDIER #3 looks into his eye.
<b> SOLDIER #3
</b> It looks like a grain of sand, but
I don't know how I'm gonna get it
out--
CAPTAIN VAN METER, 37, crab-like, is in the far distance.
<b> CAPTAIN VAN METER
</b> <u>If they surrender, don't shoot, if</u>
<u>they don't surrender, then shoot.</u>
PAN BACK TO Troy, faces the CAMERA, CLOSE, scared, then turns
back to the dune and runs a few yards.
Stops and stares, raises his rifle. He aims at the figure on
the horizon.
<b>
|
troy
|
How many times does the word 'troy' appear in the text?
| 6
|
rush off in headlong plunges of equal
distraction.
It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap I guess.
I don't know why I should write this.
I don't want to.
I don't feel able.
And I know John would think it absurd. But I MUST say what I feel and
think in some way--it is such a relief!
But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.
Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much.
John says I musn't lose my strength, and has me take cod liver oil and
lots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat.
Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried
to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell
him how I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and
Julia.
But he said I wasn't able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there;
and I did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying
before I had finished.
It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this
nervous weakness I suppose.
And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs
and laid me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my
head.
He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I
must take care of myself for his sake, and keep well.
He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will
and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.
There's one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to
occupy this nursery with the horrid wall-paper.
If we had not used it, that blessed child would have! What a fortunate
escape! Why, I wouldn't have a child of mine, an impressionable little
thing, live in such a room for worlds.
I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here
after all, I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see.
Of course I never mention it to them any more--I am too wise,--but I
keep watch of it all the same.
There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will.
Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.
It is always the same shape, only very numerous.
And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that
pattern. I don't like it a bit. I wonder--I begin to think--I wish John
would take me away from here!
It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise,
and because he loves me so.
But I tried it last night.
It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around just as the sun does.
I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in by
one window or another.
John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watched
the moonlight on that undulating wall-paper till I felt creepy.
The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if she
wanted to get out.
I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper DID move, and when
I came back John was awake.
"What is it, little girl?" he said. "Don't go walking about like
that--you'll get cold."
I though it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was not
gaining here, and that I wished he would take me away.
"Why darling!" said he, "our lease will be up in three weeks, and I
can't see how to leave before.
"The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave town just
now. Of course if you were in any danger, I could and would, but you
really are better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor,
dear, and I know. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is
better, I
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 3
|
its great game with a kind of pleasurable excitement. Yet this novel
emotion had nothing to do with the wind. Indeed, so vague was the sense of
distress I experienced, that it was impossible to trace it to its source
and deal with it accordingly, though I was aware somehow that it had to do
with my realization of our utter insignificance before this unrestrained
power of the elements about me. The huge-grown river had something to do
with it too--a vague, unpleasant idea that we had somehow trifled with
these great elemental forces in whose power we lay helpless every hour of
the day and night. For here, indeed, they were gigantically at play
together, and the sight appealed to the imagination.
But my emotion, so far as I could understand it, seemed to attach itself
more particularly to the willow bushes, to these acres and acres of
willows, crowding, so thickly growing there, swarming everywhere the eye
could reach, pressing upon the river as though to suffocate it, standing in
dense array mile after mile beneath the sky, watching, waiting, listening.
And, apart quite from the elements, the willows connected themselves subtly
with my malaise, attacking the mind insidiously somehow by reason of their
vast numbers, and contriving in some way or other to represent to the
imagination a new and mighty power, a power, moreover, not altogether
friendly to us.
Great revelations of nature, of course, never fail to impress in one way or
another, and I was no stranger to moods of the kind. Mountains overawe and
oceans terrify, while the mystery of great forests exercises a spell
peculiarly its own. But all these, at one point or another, somewhere link
on intimately with human life and human experience. They stir
comprehensible, even if alarming, emotions. They tend on the whole to
exalt.
With this multitude of willows, however, it was something far different, I
felt. Some essence emanated from them that besieged the heart. A sense of
awe awakened, true, but of awe touched somewhere by a vague terror. Their
serried ranks, growing everywhere darker about me as the shadows deepened,
moving furiously yet softly in the wind, woke in me the curious and
unwelcome suggestion that we had trespassed here upon the borders of an
alien world, a world where we were intruders, a world where we were not
wanted or invited to remain--where we ran grave risks perhaps!
The feeling, however, though it refused to yield its meaning entirely to
analysis, did not at the time trouble me by passing into menace. Yet it
never left me quite, even during the very practical business of putting up
the tent in a hurricane of wind and building a fire for the stew-pot. It
remained, just enough to bother and perplex, and to rob a most delightful
camping-ground of a good portion of its charm. To my companion, however, I
said nothing, for he was a man I considered devoid of imagination. In the
first place, I could never have explained to him what I meant, and in the
second, he would have laughed stupidly at me if I had.
There was a slight depression in the center of the island, and here we
pitched the tent. The surrounding willows broke the wind a bit.
"A poor camp," observed the imperturbable Swede when at last the tent stood
upright, "no stones and precious little firewood. I'm for moving on early
tomorrow--eh? This sand won't hold anything."
But the experience of a collapsing tent at midnight had taught us many
devices, and we made the cozy gipsy house as safe as possible, and then set
about collecting a store of wood to last till bed-time. Willow bushes drop
no branches, and driftwood was our only source of supply. We hunted the
shores pretty thoroughly. Everywhere the banks were crumbling as the rising
flood tore at them and carried away great portions with a splash and a
gurgle.
"The island's much smaller than when we landed," said the accurate Swede.
"It won't last long at this rate. We'd better drag the canoe close to the
tent, and be ready to start at a moment's notice. I shall sleep in my
clothes."
He was a little distance off, climbing along the bank, and I heard his
|
these
|
How many times does the word 'these' appear in the text?
| 2
|
? But when the cake came to be mauled like that--oh,
heavens! So the men who had quarrelled agreed to quarrel no more,
and it was decided that there should be an end of mismanagement and
idleness, and that this horrid sight of the weak pretending to be
strong, or the weak receiving the reward of strength, should be
brought to an end. Then came a great fight, in the last agonies of
which the cake was sliced manfully. All the world knew how the fight
would go; but in the meantime lord-lieutenancies were arranged; very
ancient judges retired upon pensions; vice-royal Governors were sent
out in the last gasp of the failing battle; great places were filled
by tens, and little places by twenties; private secretaries were
established here and there; and the hay was still made even after the
sun had gone down.
In consequence of all this the circumstances of the election of 18--
were peculiar. Mr. Daubeny had dissolved the House, not probably
with any idea that he could thus retrieve his fortunes, but feeling
that in doing so he was occupying the last normal position of a
properly-fought Constitutional battle. His enemies were resolved,
more firmly than they were resolved before, to knock him altogether
on the head at the general election which he had himself called
into existence. He had been disgracefully out-voted in the House of
Commons on various subjects. On the last occasion he had gone into
his lobby with a minority of 37, upon a motion brought forward by Mr.
Palliser, the late Liberal Chancellor of the Exchequer, respecting
decimal coinage. No politician, not even Mr. Palliser himself, had
expected that he would carry his Bill in the present session. It
was brought forward as a trial of strength; and for such a purpose
decimal coinage was as good a subject as any other. It was Mr.
Palliser's hobby, and he was gratified at having this further
opportunity of ventilating it. When in power, he had not succeeded
in carrying his measure, awed, and at last absolutely beaten, by the
infinite difficulty encountered in arranging its details. But his
mind was still set upon it, and it was allowed by the whole party
to be as good as anything else for the purpose then required. The
Conservative Government was beaten for the third or fourth time, and
Mr. Daubeny dissolved the House.
The whole world said that he might as well have resigned at once. It
was already the end of July, and there must be an autumn Session with
the new members. It was known to be impossible that he should find
himself supported by a majority after a fresh election. He had been
treated with manifest forbearance; the cake had been left in his
hands for twelve months; the House was barely two years old; he
had no "cry" with which to meet the country; the dissolution was
factious, dishonest, and unconstitutional. So said all the Liberals,
and it was deduced also that the Conservatives were in their hearts
as angry as were their opponents. What was to be gained but the poor
interval of three months? There were clever men who suggested that
Mr. Daubeny had a scheme in his head--some sharp trick of political
conjuring, some "hocus-pocus presto" sleight of hand, by which he
might be able to retain power, let the elections go as they would.
But, if so, he certainly did not make his scheme known to his own
party.
He had no cry with which to meet the country, nor, indeed, had
the leaders of the Opposition. Retrenchment, army reform, navy
excellence, Mr. Palliser's decimal coinage, and general good
government gave to all the old-Whig moderate Liberals plenty of
matter for speeches to their future constituents. Those who were more
advanced could promise the Ballot, and suggest the disestablishment
of the Church. But the Government of the day was to be turned out
on the score of general incompetence. They were to be made to go,
because they could not command majorities. But there ought to have
been no dissolution, and Mr. Daubeny was regarded by his opponents,
and indeed by very many of his followers also, with an enmity that
was almost ferocious. A seat in Parliament, if it be for five or six
years, is a blessing;
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 10
|
1
</b>
<b>
</b> KYM, a darkly beautiful girl in her early 20's, is smoking
furiously on the porch of an URBAN HALFWAY HOUSE. She glances
impatiently at her watch and presses her ear to her cell
phone. As she exhales, WE HEAR the rumble of thunder.
<b>
</b> Irritated, she crams her cell phone into her bag.
ROSA a halfway house staff nurse is patiently handling
WALTER, an irate patient who is screeching...
<b> WALTER
</b> I want my fucking Zippo now!
Walter starts yanking at his hair.
<b>
</b>
<b> ROSA
</b> Walter, that is a behavior...
<b> WALTER
</b> (raking his nails against
his forearm)
Fuck you!
<b> ROSA
</b> And you are making a choice.
Her cell phone rings...
<b>
</b>
<b> ROSA
</b> (to Walter)
Hold on...Hello?
<b> WALTER
</b> God!
<b> KYM
</b> Don't you get it yet, Waldo? She's
making a choice not to give you
|
rosa
|
How many times does the word 'rosa' appear in the text?
| 3
|
Fusion, often toted as
the solution to humanity's future energy needs.
There is one major problem...
Helium3 is extremely scarce on Earth. The gas does,
however, exist in abundance on the Earth's only natural
satellite:
The Moon.
Should we turn to Cold Fusion in the future, it is
conceivable that man will mine the Moon for Helium3 and
bring the precious gas back to Earth...
<b>
</b><b> 2.
</b>
<b> IN THE BLACK:
</b>
We hear something -- a machine -- CHURNING and POUNDING.
Constant. Rhythmic. Though the sound is slightly familiar,
we're not sure what it is yet. Hold for a few seconds and
then
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>1 INT. REC ROOM -- MORNING 1
</b>
The sound belongs to a regular old TREADMILL like you see
in most gyms across the world. Running on it: SAM BELL, mid
thirties, thick beard, handsome, striking blue eyes.
Sam's face is flushed and glistening with sweat. He lunges
for a towel draped over the treadmill's bar, dabs his face
as he runs.
We see OUTSIDE THE WINDOW: A gray, powdery landscape
stretching beneath a BLACK SKY.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>2 EXT. MOON -- MORNING 2
</b>
Aerial view of the Earth's only natural satellite, the
camera roaming about a hundred feet off the surface.
Desolation. Serious, uncompromising, desolation. This place
makes Antarctica look like Tokyo.
And utter silence.
Eventually the camera arrives at a moon base, DIVING DOWN
towards it --
<b> TITLE CARD: "MINING BASE SELENE. CREW: 1."
</b>
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>3 INT. BATHROOM\SHOWER -- MORNING 3
</b>
Sam takes a shower, treading in a tight circle beneath the
nozzle, eyes closed, hot water blasting his face
|
black
|
How many times does the word 'black' appear in the text?
| 1
|
<b> OPENING CREDITS:
</b>
A SPOTLIGHT slices black space.
In its beam, a DANCER materializes. She is fair-skinned.
Beautiful and pure.
The maiden twirls on pointe, a smile on her face, light as
air and carefree.
She pauses, her face grows worried. Sensing someone watching.
Scared, she peers into the darkness.
She moves now, looking, growing more frantic.
Then, a SINISTER MAN emerges out of the darkness behind her.
She stumbles backwards, frightened.
She tries to escape, twirling away, but he pursues. His true
form is revealed, the demon ROTHBART.
He flings his open hand towards her, casting the spell.
She wants to scream, but nothing comes out. She looks at her
body, sensing something happening to her. Something
terrifying.
She spins, panicking, but it's too late. She disappears
beneath the beast's cape.
She emerges as the WHITE SWAN, the iconic protagonist of SWAN
<b> LAKE.
</b>
<b> CUT TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 2 INT. NINA'S BEDROOM - MORNING 2
</b>
In the darkness, a
|
emerges
|
How many times does the word 'emerges' appear in the text?
| 1
|
a man in his 70s, narrates nostalgically OVER a MONTAGE
of related news photos.
<b> MANETTA (V.O.)
</b> 1957 was a big year. The Russians
put that Sputnik into outer space,
the Dodgers played their last game
at Ebbets Field, 'that guy' shot
Frank Costello in the head, and
missed, and the Gallo brothers
whacked Albert Anastasia in that
barber shop in the Park Sheraton
Hotel. It was total chaos. With
Anastasia gone, Vito Genovese
figures he's king shit, but Carlo
Gambino and 'Joe Bananas' both
want to be boss of all bosses. So
they call a meeting -- a big
meeting.
<b>2 EXT. UPSTATE NEW YORK - DAY 2
</b>
CREDITS CONTINUE. In FADED 16mm documentary-style, we
see a country road winding through rolling hills. At the
top of the hill, a black '57 Cadillac appears and sweeps
through the peaceful landscape.
<b> MANETTA (V.O.)
</b> It was the first time the whole
commission was ever gonna meet
face to face. Bosses and wiseguys
were comin' in from all over the
country, and all the New York
families, too -- maybe sixty
bosses, the whole wiseguy world --
all headin' toward this little
town upstate to figure out what's
what.
<b>3 EXT. ROADSIDE - DAY 3
</b>
A sign reads, "Entering Apalachin - pop. 342." The black
Cadillac speeds past the sign, then another black Caddy,
then a black Lincoln, then another Caddy, a Lincoln, etc.
<b> MANETTA (V.O.)
</b> Your father and me, we were goin'
up with Tommy D., Fat Tommy.
<b>
|
headin
|
How many times does the word 'headin' appear in the text?
| 0
|
<b> OPENING CREDITS:
</b>
A SPOTLIGHT slices black space.
In its beam, a DANCER materializes. She is fair-skinned.
Beautiful and pure.
The maiden twirls on pointe, a smile on her face, light as
air and carefree.
She pauses, her face grows worried. Sensing someone watching.
Scared, she peers into the darkness.
She moves now, looking, growing more frantic.
Then, a SINISTER MAN emerges out of the darkness behind her.
She stumbles backwards, frightened.
She tries to escape, twirling away, but he pursues. His true
form is revealed, the demon ROTHBART.
He flings his open hand towards her, casting the spell.
She wants to scream, but nothing comes out. She looks at her
body, sensing something happening to her. Something
terrifying.
She spins, panicking, but it's too late. She disappears
beneath the beast's cape.
She emerges as the WHITE SWAN, the iconic protagonist of SWAN
<b> LAKE.
</b>
<b> CUT TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 2 INT. NINA'S BEDROOM - MORNING 2
</b>
In the darkness, a
|
swan
|
How many times does the word 'swan' appear in the text?
| 1
|
ROS.
Oh, never fear.
FIFE.
Or else,
Default of other beasts, beastlier men,
Cannibals, Anthropophagi, bare Poles
Who never knew a tailor but by taste.
ROS.
Look, look! Unless my fancy misconceive
With twilight--down among the rocks there, Fife--
Some human dwelling, surely--
Or think you but a rock torn from the rocks
In some convulsion like to-day's, and perch'd
Quaintly among them in mock-masonry?
FIFE.
Most likely that, I doubt.
ROS.
No, no--for look!
A square of darkness opening in it--
FIFE.
Oh, I don't half like such openings!--
ROS.
Like the loom
Of night from which she spins her outer gloom--
FIFE.
Lord, Madam, pray forbear this tragic vein
In such a time and place--
ROS.
And now again
Within that square of darkness, look! a light
That feels its way with hesitating pulse,
As we do, through the darkness that it drives
To blacken into deeper night beyond.
FIFE.
In which could we follow that light's example,
As might some English Bardolph with his nose,
We might defy the sunset--Hark, a chain!
ROS.
And now a lamp, a lamp! And now the hand
That carries it.
FIFE.
Oh, Lord! that dreadful chain!
ROS.
And now the bearer of the lamp; indeed
As strange as any in Arabian tale,
So giant-like, and terrible, and grand,
Spite of the skin he's wrapt in.
FIFE.
Why, 'tis his own:
Oh, 'tis some wild man of the woods; I've heard
They build and carry torches--
ROS.
Never Ape
Bore such a brow before the heavens as that--
Chain'd as you say too!--
FIFE.
Oh, that dreadful chain!
ROS.
And now he sets the lamp down by his side,
And with one hand clench'd in his tangled hair
And with a sigh as if his heart would break--
(During this Segismund has entered from the fortress, with a
torch.)
SEGISMUND.
Once more the storm has roar'd itself away,
Splitting the crags of God as it retires;
But sparing still what it should only blast,
This guilty piece of human handiwork,
And all that are within it. Oh, how oft,
How oft, within or here abroad, have I
Waited, and in the whisper of my heart
Pray'd for the slanting hand of heaven to strike
The blow myself I dared not, out of fear
Of that Hereafter, worse, they say, than here,
Plunged headlong in, but, till dismissal waited,
To wipe at last all sorrow from men's eyes,
And make this heavy dispensation clear.
Thus have I
|
this
|
How many times does the word 'this' appear in the text?
| 3
|
existence; they
had only made sure of the death of its occupiers. Which meant they must
have some use for the installations. For the general loot of a Survey
field camp would be relatively worthless to those who picked over the
treasure of entire cities elsewhere. Why? What did the Throgs want? And
would the alien invaders continue to occupy the domes for long?
Shann did not realize what had happened to him since that shock of
ruthless attack. From early childhood, when he had been thrown on his
own to scratch a living--a borderline existence of a living--on the
Dumps of Tyr, he had had to use his wits to keep life in a scrawny and
undersized body. However, since he had been eating regularly from Survey
rations, he was not quite so scrawny any more.
His formal education was close to zero, his informal and off-center
schooling vast. And that particular toughening process which had been
working on him for years now aided in his speedy adaption to a new set
of facts, formidable ones. He was alone on a strange and perhaps hostile
world. Water, food, safe shelter, those were important now. And once
again, away from the ordered round of the camp where he had been ruled
by the desires and requirements of others, he was thinking, planning in
freedom. Later (his hand went to the butt of his stunner) perhaps later
he might just find a way of extracting an accounting from the
beetle-faces, too.
For the present, he would have to keep away from the Throgs, which meant
well away from the camp. A fleck of green showed through the amethyst
foliage before him--the lake! Shann wriggled through a last bush barrier
and stood to look out over that surface. A sleek brown head bobbed up.
Shann put fingers to his mouth and whistled. The head turned, black
button eyes regarded him, short legs began to churn water. To his
gratification the swimmer was obeying his summons.
Taggi came ashore, pausing on the fine gray sand of the verge to shake
himself vigorously. Then the wolverine came upslope at a clumsy gallop
to Shann. With an unknown feeling swelling inside him, the Terran went
down on both knees, burying both hands in the coarse brown fur, warming
to the uproarious welcome Taggi gave him.
"Togi?" Shann asked as if the other could answer. He gazed back to the
lake, but Taggi's mate was nowhere in sight.
The blunt head under his hand swung around, black button nose pointed
north. Shann had never been sure just how intelligent, as mankind
measured intelligence, the wolverines were. He had come to suspect that
Fadakar and the other experts had underrated them and that both beasts
understood more than they were given credit for. Now he followed an
experiment of his own, one he had had a chance to try only a few times
before and never at length. Pressing his palm flat on Taggi's head,
Shann thought of Throgs and of their attack, trying to arouse in the
animal a corresponding reaction to his own horror and anger.
And Taggi responded. A mutter became a growl, teeth gleamed--those cruel
teeth of a carnivore to whom they were weapons of aggression. Danger ...
Shann thought "danger." Then he raised his hand, and the wolverine
shuffled off, heading north. The man followed.
They discovered Togi busy in a small cove where a jagged tangle of drift
made a mat dating from the last high-water period. She was finishing a
hearty breakfast, the remains of a water rat being buried thriftily
against future need after the instincts of her kind. When she was done
she came to Shann, inquiry plain to read in her eyes.
There was water here, and good hunting. But the site was too close to
the Throgs. Let one of their exploring flyers sight them, and the little
group was finished. Better cover, that's what the three fugitives must
have. Shann scowled, not at Togi, but at the landscape. He was tired and
hungry, but he must keep on going.
A stream fed into the cove from the west, a guide of sorts. With very
little knowledge of
|
they
|
How many times does the word 'they' appear in the text?
| 4
|
</b> Slowly we pan downwards revealing the city that spreads
below ... A glittering conglomeration of elevated
transport tubes, smaller square buildings which are merely
huge, with, here and there, the comparatively minuscule
relics of previous ages of architecture, pavement level
awnings suggesting restaurants and shops ... Transparent
tubes carry whizzing transport cages past us ... an
elevated highway carrying traffic composed primarily of
large transport lorries passes thru frame. As we descend,
the sunlight is blocked out and street lights & neon signs
take over as illumination. Eventually we reach the upper
levels of a plush shopping precinct.
<b>2 INT. SHOPPING PRECINT NIGHT 2
</b><b>
</b> Xmas decorations are everywhere. PEOPLE are busy buying,
ogling, discussing, choosing wisely from the goodies on
display. SHOPPERS are going by laden with superbly
packaged goods ... the shop windows are full of
elaborately boxed and be-ribboned who-knows-what. In one
window is a bank of TV sets - on the great majority of the
screens is the face of MR. HELPMANN - the Deputy Minister
of Information. He is being interviewed. No-one bothers to
listen to HELPMANN.
<b> INTERVIEWER
</b> Deputy minister, what do you believe
is behind this recent increase in
terrorist bombings?
<b> HELPMANN
</b> Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless
minority of people seems to have
forgotten certain good old fashioned
virtues. They just can't stand seeing
the other fellow win. If these people
would just play the game, instead of
standing on the touch line heckling -
<b> INTERVIEWER
</b> In fact, killing people -
<b> HELPMANN
</b> - In fact, killing people - they'd
get a lot more out of life.
We PULL AWAY from the shop to concentrate on the shoppers.
HELPMANN's voice carries over the rest of the scene.
<b> INTERVIEWER
</b> Mr. HELPMANN, what would you say to
those critics who maintain that the
Ministry Of Information has become
too large and unwieldy ...?
<b>
|
large
|
How many times does the word 'large' appear in the text?
| 1
|
the reviews, many of these
books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone to
their composition; to some even has been given the anxious
labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer
should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in
release from the burden of his thought; and, indifferent to aught
else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success.
Now the war has come, bringing with it a new attitude.
Youth has turned to gods we of an earlier day knew not, and it
is possible to see already the direction in which those who come
after us will move. The younger generation, conscious of
strength and tumultuous, have done with knocking at the door;
they have burst in and seated themselves in our seats.
The air is noisy with their shouts. Of their elders some, by
imitating the antics of youth, strive to persuade themselves
that their day is not yet over; they shout with the lustiest,
but the war cry sounds hollow in their mouth; they are like
poor wantons attempting with pencil, paint and powder, with
shrill gaiety, to recover the illusion of their spring.
The wiser go their way with a decent grace. In their chastened
smile is an indulgent mockery. They remember that they too
trod down a sated generation, with just such clamor and with
just such scorn, and they foresee that these brave torch-bearers
will presently yield their place also. There is no last word.
The new evangel was old when Nineveh reared her greatness
to the sky. These gallant words which seem so novel to those
that speak them were said in accents scarcely changed a hundred
times before. The pendulum swings backwards and forwards.
The circle is ever travelled anew.
Sometimes a man survives a considerable time from an era in
which he had his place into one which is strange to him, and
then the curious are offered one of the most singular
spectacles in the human comedy. Who now, for example, thinks
of George Crabbe? He was a famous poet in his day, and the
world recognised his genius with a unanimity which the greater
complexity of modern life has rendered infrequent. He had
learnt his craft at the school of Alexander Pope, and he wrote
moral stories in rhymed couplets. Then came the French
Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, and the poets sang new songs.
Mr. Crabbe continued to write moral stories in rhymed couplets.
I think he must have read the verse of these young
men who were making so great a stir in the world, and I fancy
he found it poor stuff. Of course, much of it was. But the
odes of Keats and of Wordsworth, a poem or two by Coleridge, a
few more by Shelley, discovered vast realms of the spirit that
none had explored before. Mr. Crabbe was as dead as mutton,
but Mr. Crabbe continued to write moral stories in rhymed couplets.
I have read desultorily the writings of the younger generation.
It may be that among them a more fervid Keats, a more
ethereal Shelley, has already published numbers the world
will willingly remember. I cannot tell. I admire their
polish -- their youth is already so accomplished that it seems
absurd to speak of promise -- I marvel at the felicity of
their style; but with all their copiousness (their vocabulary
suggests that they fingered Roget's <i Thesaurus> in their
cradles) they say nothing to me: to my mind they know too
much and feel too obviously; I cannot stomach the heartiness
with which they slap me on the back or the emotion with which
they hurl themselves on my bosom; their passion seems to me a
little anaemic and their dreams a trifle dull. I do not like them.
I am on the shelf. I will continue to write moral stories in
rhymed couplets. But I should be thrice a fool if I did it for
aught but my own entertainment.
Chapter III
But all this is by the way.
I was very young when I wrote my first book. By a lucky chance
it excited attention, and various persons sought my acquaintance.
It is not without melancholy that I wander among my
recollections of the world of letters in
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 9
|
that this _is_ the modern point to match the site
on the tape?" The girl brushed back straying hair.
Ashe shrugged. There were tight brackets about his mouth which had not
been there six months ago. He moved jerkily, not with the fluid grace of
those old days when he had faced the vast distance of time travel with
unruffled calm and a self-confidence to steady and support the novice
Ross.
"The general outline of these two islands could stand for the capes on
this--" He pulled a second map, this on transparent plastic, to fit over
the first. The capes marked on the much larger body of land did slip
over the modern islands with a surprising fit. The once large island,
shattered and broken, could have produced the groups of atolls and
islets they now prospected.
"How long--" Karara mused aloud, "and why?"
Ashe shrugged. "Ten thousand years, five, two." He shook his head. "We
have no idea. It's apparent that there must have been some world-wide
cataclysm here to change the contours of the land masses so much. We may
have to wait on a return space flight to bring a 'copter or a hydroplane
to explore farther." His hand swept beyond the boundaries of the map to
indicate the whole of Hawaika.
"A year, maybe two, before we could hope for that," Ross cut in. "Then
we'll have to depend on whether the Council believes this important
enough." The contrariness which spiked his tongue whenever Karara was
present made him say that without thinking. Then the twitch of Ashe's
lip brought home Ross's error. Gordon needed reassurance now, not a
recitation of the various ways their mission could be doomed.
"Look here!" Ross came to the table, his hand sweeping past Karara, as
he used his forefinger for a pointer. "We know that what we want could
be easily overlooked, even with the dolphins helping us to check. This
whole area's too big. And you know that it is certain that whatever
might be down there would be hidden with sea growths. Suppose ten of us
start out in a semi-circle from about here and go as far as this point,
heading inland. Video-cameras here and here ... comb the whole sector
inch by inch if we have to. After all, we have plenty of time and
manpower."
Karara laughed softly. "Manpower--always manpower, Ross? But there is
woman-power, too. And we have perhaps even sharper sight. But this is a
good idea, Gordon. Let me see--" she began to tell off names on her
fingers, "PaKeeKee, Vaeoha, Hori, Liliha, Taema, Ui, Hono'ura--they are
the best in the water. Me ... you, Gordon, Ross. That makes ten with
keen eyes to look, and always there are Tino-rau and Taua. We will take
supplies and camp here on this island which looks so much like a finger
crooked to beckon. Yes, somehow that beckoning finger seems to me to
promise better fortune. Shall we plan it so?"
Some of the tight look was gone from Ashe's face, and Ross relaxed. This
was what Gordon needed--not to be sitting in here going over maps,
reports, reworking over and over their scant leads. Ashe had always been
a field man; and the settlement work had been stultifying, a laborious
chore for him.
When Karara had gone Ross dropped down on the bunk against the side
wall.
"What _did_ happen here, do you think?" Half was real interest in the
mystery they had mulled over and over since they had landed on a Hawaika
which diverged so greatly from the maps; the other half, a desire to
keep Ashe thinking on a subject removed from immediate worries. "An
atomic war?"
"Could be. There are old radiation traces. But these aliens had, I'm
sure, progressed beyond atomics. Suppose, just suppose, they could
tamper with the weather, with the balance of the planet's crust? We
don't know the extent of their powers, how they would use them. They had
a colony here once, or there would have been no guide tape. And that is
all we are
|
half
|
How many times does the word 'half' appear in the text?
| 1
|
,
sustains himself outside himself.
<b> --LAOZI
</b><b> 2.
</b>
<b> FADE IN
</b>
<b> INT. DARKENED BEDROOM - NIGHT
</b>
A spherical black monolith rises up from a white surface...
white like the moon.
In the darkness, the towers metal skin is barely visible.
We ROTATE AROUND, revealing the tower to actually be a LAMP --
not rising up from a surface, but hanging down from a white
ceiling. The bulb unlit.
Directly below the lamp is the very definition of innocence -
a sleeping child. Chest rising and falling with each breath.
We HOVER over the young boy...watching him. A blanket
emblazoned with dinosaurs is draped across his limbs. His
mouth is slack, eyelids twitching to dreams unseen.
The truly deep sleep that an adult can only wish for.
We move away from him, exploring the dark room. Strewn with
toys. The door is slightly ajar. We float through it into--
<b> INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
</b>
--a long hallway. Even darker than the bedroom. And without
the boys rhythmic breathing, even quieter.
A window at the end of the hall enlarges as we approach.
|
from
|
How many times does the word 'from' appear in the text?
| 3
|
. 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
|
back
|
How many times does the word 'back' appear in the text?
| 1
|
on the edge of a sword.
Then Robin was born. She was an intruder and a calamity of course.
Nobody had contemplated her for a moment. Feather cried for a week
when she first announced the probability of her advent. Afterwards
however she managed to forget the approaching annoyance and went
to parties and danced to the last hour continuing to be a great
success because her prettiness was delicious and her diaphanous
mentality was no strain upon the minds of her admirers male and
female.
That a Feather should become a parent gave rise to much wit of light
weight when Robin in the form of a bundle of lace was carried down
by her nurse to be exhibited in the gaudy crowded little drawing-room
in the slice of a house in the Mayfair street.
It was the Head of the House of Coombe who asked the first question
about her.
"What will you DO with her?" he inquired detachedly.
The frequently referred to "babe unborn" could not have presented
a gaze of purer innocence than did the lovely Feather. Her eyes of
larkspur blueness were clear of any thought or intention as spring
water is clear at its unclouded best.
Her ripple of a laugh was clear also--enchantingly clear.
"Do!" repeated. "What is it people 'do' with babies? I suppose
the nurse knows. I don't. I wouldn't touch her for the world. She
frightens me."
She floated a trifle nearer and bent to look at her.
"I shall call her Robin," she said. "Her name is really Roberta
as she couldn't be called Robert. People will turn round to look
at a girl when they hear her called Robin. Besides she has eyes
like a robin. I wish she'd open them and let you see."
By chance she did open them at the moment--quite slowly. They were
dark liquid brown and seemed to be all lustrous iris which gazed
unmovingly at the object in of focus. That object was the Head of
the House of Coombe.
"She is staring at me. There is antipathy in her gaze," he said,
and stared back unmovingly also, but with a sort of cold interest.
CHAPTER II
The Head of the House of Coombe was not a title to be found in
Burke or Debrett. It was a fine irony of the Head's own and having
been accepted by his acquaintances was not infrequently used by
them in their light moments in the same spirit. The peerage recorded
him as a Marquis and added several lesser attendant titles.
"When English society was respectable, even to stodginess at times,"
was his point of view, "to be born 'the Head of the House' was a
weighty and awe-inspiring thing. In fearful private denunciatory
interviews with one's parents and governors it was brought up against
one as a final argument against immoral conduct such as debt and
not going to church. As the Head of the House one was called upon
to be an Example. In the country one appeared in one's pew and
announced oneself a 'miserable sinner' in loud tones, one had to
invite the rector to dinner with regularity and 'the ladies' of
one's family gave tea and flannel petticoats and baby clothes to
cottagers. Men and women were known as 'ladies' and 'gentlemen'
in those halcyon days. One Represented things--Parties in
Parliament--Benevolent Societies, and British Hospitality in the
form of astounding long dinners at which one drank healths and
made speeches. In roseate youth one danced the schottische and the
polka and the round waltz which Lord Byron denounced as indecent.
To recall the vigour of his poem gives rise to a smile--when one
chances to sup at a cabaret."
He was considered very amusing when he analyzed his own mental
attitude towards his world in general.
"I was born somewhat too late and somewhat too early," he explained
in his light, rather cold and detached way. "I was born and educated
at the closing of one era and have to adjust myself to living in
another. I was as it were cradled among treasured relics of the
ethics of the Georges and Queen Charlotte, and Queen Victoria in
|
nurse
|
How many times does the word 'nurse' appear in the text?
| 1
|
SLOWLY FADE IN TO:
</b>
<b> EXT. BLACK LAKE - NIGHT
</b>
The loon continues its hypnotic call, as the steamy mist lifts
off the dark water, which doesn't even ripple. The loon
continues her nocturnal cry, as we savor the beauty of the lake,
the elegance of the bird, and the haunting echo of her lonely
call... until suddenly the bird is crisply pulled under,
silenced forever. A lone feather surfaces and floats as:
Credits roll over the black lake to Richie Havens singing "I CAN
SEE CLEARLY NOW." Then--
<b> OVER BLACK
</b>
<b> KEOUGH (O.S.)
</b> And they pay you for this? To tag
beaver?
<b> WALT (O.S.)
</b> Imagine.
As we FADE IN a face COMES INTO FOCUS from underwater. It is
the face of WALT LAWSON (Maine Fish And Game) looking down from
a boat.
<b> EXT. LAKE - DAY
</b>
Next to him is SHERIFF HANK KEOUGH, paunch, disposition of an
untipped waiter.
<b> KEOUGH
</b> Ask me, what an animal does in the
wild is his own business so long as
he doesn't do it to man. I think
Mark Twain said that.
<b> WALT
</b> (dry)
I think he didn't. But since
you've said it, I guess we're
covered.
Keough holds a stare. Walt drops overboard. Keough pulls a
Twinkie from his pocket. Begins to unwrap.
<b> EXT. NEW YORK - MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
</b>
<b> INT. MUSEUM - DAY
</b>
FIND KELLY SCOTT, pretty, thirty, as KEVIN CAMPBELL, forties,
approaches.
<b> KEVIN
</b> Kelly.
<b> KELLY
</b> (warmly)
Kevin, hey.
She beams affection, he exudes a little discomfort.
<b>
|
forever
|
How many times does the word 'forever' appear in the text?
| 0
|
straight-way,
For thou must hang there.
MORANZONE
Judas said you, boy?
Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still
He was more wise than Judas was, and held
Those thirty silver pieces not enough.
GUIDO
What got he for my fatherâs blood?
MORANZONE
What got he?
Why cities, fiefs, and principalities,
Vineyards, and lands.
GUIDO
Of which he shall but keep
Six feet of ground to rot in. Where is he,
This damned villain, this foul devil? where?
Show me the man, and come he cased in steel,
In complete panoply and pride of war,
Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms,
Yet I shall reach him through their spears, and feel
The last black drop of blood from his black heart
Crawl down my blade. Show me the man, I say,
And I will kill him.
MORANZONE [_coldly_]
Fool, what revenge is there?
Death is the common heritage of all,
And death comes best when it comes suddenly.
[_Goes up close to_ GUIDO.]
Your father was betrayed, there is your cue;
For you shall sell the seller in his turn.
I will make you of his household, you shall sit
At the same board with him, eat of his breadâ
GUIDO
O bitter bread!
MORANZONE
Thy palate is too nice,
Revenge will make it sweet. Thou shalt oâ nights
Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and be
His intimate, so he will fawn on thee,
Love thee, and trust thee in all secret things.
If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh,
And if it be his humour to be sad
Thou shalt don sables. Then when the time is ripeâ
[GUIDO _clutches his sword_.]
Nay, nay, I trust thee not; your hot young blood,
Undisciplined nature, and too violent rage
Will never tarry for this great revenge,
But wreck itself on passion.
GUIDO
Thou knowest me not.
Tell me the man, and I in everything
Will do thy bidding.
MORANZONE
Well, when the time is ripe,
The victim trusting and the occasion sure,
I will by sudden secret messenger
Send thee a sign.
GUIDO
How shall I kill him, tell me?
MORANZONE
That night thou shalt creep into his private chamber;
But if he sleep see that thou wake him first,
And hold thy hand upon his throat, ay! that way,
Then having told him of what blood thou art,
Sprung from what father, and for what revenge,
Bid him to pray for mercy; when he prays,
Bid him to set a price upon his life,
And when he strips himself of all his gold
Tell him thou needest not gold, and hast not mercy,
And do thy business straight away. Swear to me
Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it,
Or else I go to mine own house, and leave
Thee ignorant, and thy father unavenged.
GUIDO
Now by my fatherâ�
|
moranzone
|
How many times does the word 'moranzone' appear in the text?
| 5
|
That cry which is of things most tragical,
The tragedy most poignant--sleeps and rests,
And flicks its little fingers, with closed eyes
Senses with visions of unopened leaves
This monstrous and external sphere, the world,
And what moves in it.
So she thinks of him,
And longs for his return, and as she longs
The rivers of her body run and ripple,
Refresh and quicken her. The morning's light
Flutters upon the ceiling, and she lies
And stretches drowsily in the breaking slumber
Of fluctuant emotion, calls to him
With spirit and flesh, until his very name
Seems like to form in sound, while lips are closed,
And tongue is motionless, beyond herself,
And in the middle spaces of the room
Calls back to her.
And Henry Murray caught,
In letters, which she sent him, all she felt,
Re-kindled it and sped it back to her.
Then came a lover's fancy in his brain:
He would return unlooked for--who, the god,
Inspired the fancy?--find her in what mood
She might be in his absence, where no blur
Of expectation of his coming changed
Her color, flame of spirit. And he bought
Some chablis and a cake, slipped noiselessly
Into the chamber where she lay asleep,
And had a light upon her face before
She woke and saw him.
How she cried her joy!
And put her arms around him, burned away
In one great moment from a goblet of fire,
Which over-flowed, whatever she had felt
Of shrinking or distaste, or loveless hands
At any time before, and burned it there
Till even the ashes sparkled, blew away
In incense and in light.
She rose and slipped
A robe on and her slippers; drew a stand
Between them for the chablis and the cake.
And drank and ate with him, and showed her teeth,
While laughing, shaking curls, and flinging back
Her head for rapture, and in little crows.
And thus the wine caught up the resting cells,
And flung them in the current, and their blood
Flows silently and swiftly, running deep;
And their two hearts beat like the rhythmic chimes
Of little bells of steel made blue by flame,
Because their lives are ready now, and life
Cries out to life for life to be. The fire,
Lit in the altar of their eyes, is blind
For mysteries that urge, the blood of them
In separate streams would mingle, hurried on
By energy from the heights of ancient mountains;
The God himself, and Life, the Gift of God.
And as result the hurrying microcosms
Out of their beings sweep, seek out, embrace,
Dance for the rapture of freedom, being loosed;
Unite, achieve their destiny, find the cradle
Of sleep and growth, take up the cryptic task
Of maturation and of fashioning;
Where no light is except the light of God
To light the human spirit, which emerges
From nothing that man knows; and where a face,
To be a woman's or a man's takes form:
Hands that shall gladden, lips that shall enthrall
With songs or kisses, hands and lips, perhaps,
To hurt and poison. All is with the fates,
And all beyond us.
Now the seed is sown,
The flower must grow and blossom. Something comes,
Perhaps, to whisper something in the ear
That will exert itself against the mass
That grows, prolifer
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 6
|
people
have remained a peaceful people, while catching all the
centuries of hell that they have caught, here in white man's
heaven! The miracle is that the white man's puppet Negro
'leaders,' his preachers and the educated Negroes laden with
degrees, and others who have been allowed to wax fat off
their black poor brothers, have been able to hold the black
masses quiet until now."
<b> --THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MALCOLM X
</b>
<b>TITLES--WHITE ON BLACK
</b>
<b> PLACE
</b> Brooklyn, New York
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> TIME
</b> Present
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> WEATHER
</b> Hot as shit!
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT: WE LOVE RADIO STATION STOREFRONT--DAY
</b>
<b>EXTREME CLOSE UP
</b>
WE SEE only big white teeth and very Negroidal (big) lips.
<b> MISTER SEÑOR LOVE DADDY
</b> Waaaake up!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
Up ya wake! Up ya wake! Up ya wake!
<b>CAMERA MOVES BACK SLOWLY TO REVEAL MISTER SEÑOR LOVE DADDY,
</b>a DJ, a radio personality, behind a microphone.
<b> MISTER SEÑOR LOVE DADDY
</b> This is Mister Señor Love Daddy.
Your voice of choice. The world's
only twelve-hour strongman, here on
WE LOVE radio, 108 FM. The last on
your dial, but the first in ya
hearts, and that's the truth, Ruth!
The CAMERA, which is STILL PULLING BACK, shows that Mister
Señor Love Daddy is actually sitting in a storefront window.
The control booth looks directly out onto the street. This
is WE LOVE RADIO, a modest station with a loyal following,
right in the heart of the neighborhood. The OPENING SHOT
will be a TRICK SHOT--the CAMERA PULLING BACK through the
storefront window.
<b> MISTER SEÑOR LOVE DADDY
</b> Here I am. Am I here? Y'know it.
It ya know. This is Mister Señor
Love Daddy, doing the nasty to ya
ears, ya ears to the nasty. I'se
play only da platters dat matter,
da matters dat platter and that's
the truth, Ruth.
He hits the cart machine and we hear a station jingle.
<b> VO
</b><b> L-O-V-E RADIO.
</b>
<b> MISTER SEÑOR LOVE DADDY
</b> Doing da ying and yang da flip and
flop da hippy and hoppy
(he yodels)
Yo da lay he hoo. I have today's
forecast.
(he screams)
<b> HOT!
</b>
He laughs like a madman.
<b>INT: DA MAYOR'S BEDROOM--DAY
</b>
An old, grizzled man stirs in the bed, his sheets are soaked
with sweat. He flings them off his wet body.
|
back
|
How many times does the word 'back' appear in the text?
| 2
|
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
|
speaking
|
How many times does the word 'speaking' appear in the text?
| 2
|
backwards.
Well, I wondered if I could do that; it seemed rather a feat, you see.
And then I wondered if I would say it forward, and I thought I did.
Well, no sooner had I got to WORLD WITHOUT END, than I saw a man in a
pariu, and with a mat under his arm, come along the beach from the town.
He was rather a hard-favoured old party, and he limped and crippled, and
all the time he kept coughing. At first I didn't cotton to his looks,
I thought, and then I got sorry for the old soul because he coughed so
hard. I remembered that we had some of that cough mixture the American
consul gave the captain for Hay. It never did Hay a ha'porth of service,
but I thought it might do the old gentleman's business for him, and
stood up. "Yorana!" says I. "Yorana!" says he. "Look here," I said,
"I've got some first-rate stuff in a bottle; it'll fix your cough,
savvy? Harry my and I'll measure you a tablespoonful in the palm of my
hand, for all our plate is at the bankers." So I thought the old party
came up, and the nearer he came, the less I took to him. But I had
passed my word, you see.'
'Wot is this bloomin' drivel?' interrupted the clerk. 'It's like the rot
there is in tracts.'
'It's a story; I used to tell them to the kids at home,' said Herrick.
'If it bores you, I'll drop it.'
'O, cut along!' returned the sick man, irritably. 'It's better than
nothing.'
'Well,' continued Herrick, 'I had no sooner given him the cough mixture
than he seemed to straighten up and change, and I saw he wasn't a
Tahitian after all, but some kind of Arab, and had a long beard on his
chin. "One good turn deserves another," says he. "I am a magician out
of the Arabian Nights, and this mat that I have under my arm is the
original carpet of Mohammed Ben Somebody-or-other. Say the word, and you
can have a cruise upon the carpet." "You don't mean to say this is the
Travelling Carpet?" I cried. "You bet I do," said he. "You've been
to America since last I read the Arabian Nights," said I, a little
suspicious. "I should think so," said he. "Been everywhere. A man with a
carpet like this isn't going to moulder in a semi-detached villa." Well,
that struck me as reasonable. "All right," I said; "and do you mean to
tell me I can get on that carpet and go straight to London, England?" I
said, "London, England," captain, because he seemed to have been so long
in your part of the world. "In the crack of a whip," said he. I
figured up the time. What is the difference between Papeete and London,
captain?'
'Taking Greenwich and Point Venus, nine hours, odd minutes and seconds,'
replied the mariner.
'Well, that's about what I made it,' resumed Herrick, 'about nine hours.
Calling this three in the morning, I made out I would drop into London
about noon; and the idea tickled me immensely. "There's only one
bother," I said, "I haven't a copper cent. It would be a pity to go
to London and not buy the morning Standard." "O!" said he, "you don't
realise the conveniences of this carpet. You see this pocket? you've
only got to stick your hand in, and you pull it out filled with
sovereigns."
'Double-eagles, wasn't iff inquired the captain.
'That was what it was!' cried Herrick. 'I thought they seemed unusually
big, and I remember now I had to go to the money-changers at Charing
Cross and get English silver.'
'O, you went there?' said the clerk. 'Wot did you do? Bet you had a B.
and S.!'
'Well, you see, it was just as the old boy said--like the cut of a
|
like
|
How many times does the word 'like' appear in the text?
| 2
|
<b> "FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF"
</b>
<b> 1 BLACK SCREEN 1
</b>
<b> MAIN TITLES
</b>
<b> IT'S SILENT. A BEAT...AND AN EXPLOSION OF SOUND. A HOUSEHOLD
</b><b> IN THE MORNING. KIDS GETTING READY FOR SCHOOL. CLOCK RADIOS.
</b><b> KITCHEN APPLIANCES. SHOWERS. FIGHTING. PEOPLE YELLING. DOG
</b><b> BARKING. APPLIANCES BUZZING. CAR HORNS. IT SOUNDS JUST LIKE
</b><b> YOUR HOUSE DID. STREAMS OF ROCK'N ROLL FADE IN AND OUT. HUEY
</b><b> LEWIS TO LIONEL RITCHIE TO HUSKER DU. SURROUND MAKES IT FEEL
</b><b> LIKE YOU'RE IN THE ROOM. AN AURAL TOUR OF A HOUSE ON A
</b><b> SCHOOL MORNING. BEGINING IN THE KITCHEN AND MOVING UPSTAIRS.
</b>
<b> FATHER'S VOICE (TOM)
</b> Where's my wallet?!
<b> SEVEN YEAR OLD BOY (TODD)
</b><b> YOU IDIOT!!
</b>
<b> TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL (KIMBERLY)
</b><b> MOM!
</b>
<b> TODD
</b><b> SHUT-UP!
</b>
<b> EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL (JEANIE)
</b><b> I NEED A TOWEL!!
</b>
<b> TOM
</b><b> JOYCE!
</b>
<b> KIMBERLY
</b> (whispers, sadistic)
When you turn ten, your head's going
to swell up real big like a watermelon
and we're going to have to put you
to sleep like they do with a dog.
<b>
|
feel
|
How many times does the word 'feel' appear in the text?
| 0
|
Darkness. Then the GLINT of a flashlight. Its beam rocks
crazily to and fro across the inside of a small storage room
as we hear two children arguing.
<b> OLDER KID
</b> You're doing it wrong.
<b> YOUNGER KID
</b> Shut up.
<b> OLDER KID
</b> You're doing it wrong.
It's hard, but we get a sense of the room in the whipping
beam of light. Huge, dark coats lined up like sides of beef
on steel batons. Bent, stained helmets hung like African
masks.
Beneath them BRIAN, 7, and STEPHEN, 12, are trying to struggle
into a pair of the ludicrously massive coats over their
pajamas.
<b> STEPHEN
</b> It doesn't go like that.
<b> BRIAN
</b> Who asked you?
<b> STEPHEN
</b> If you do it like that it'll open in
the fire. Then you'll get burned and
<b> DIE.
</b>
The door suddenly opens, morning sunlight roaring in. It's a
fire station storage room full of fire gear. A fireman stands
in the doorway, tall, athletic, their father; DENNIS
McCAFFREY.
<b> DENNIS
</b>
|
stephen
|
How many times does the word 'stephen' appear in the text?
| 2
|
"Yes, he's the youngest of our children, sir. He and
Jennie--that's home, and 'most as tall as meself--are all that's left.
The other two went to heaven when they was little ones."
"Can't the little fellow's leg be straightened?" asked Babcock, in a
tone which plainly showed his sympathy for the boy's suffering.
"No, not now; so Dr. Mason says. There was a time when it might have
been, but I couldn't take him. I had him over to Quarantine again two
years ago, but it was too late; it'd growed fast, they said. When he
was four years old he would be under the horses' heels all the time, and
a-climbin' over them in the stable, and one day the Big Gray fetched
him a crack, and broke his hip. He didn't mean it, for he's as dacint
a horse as I've got; but the boys had been a-worritin' him, and he let
drive, thinkin', most likely, it was them. He's been a-hoistin' all the
mornin'." Then, catching sight of Cully leading the horse back to work,
she rose to her feet, all the fire and energy renewed in her face.
"Shake the men up, Cully! I can't give 'em but half an hour to-day.
We're behind time now. And tell the cap'n to pull them macaronis out
of the hold, and start two of 'em to trimmin' some of that stone to
starboard. She was a-listin' when we knocked off for dinner. Come,
lively!"
II. A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK
The work on the sea-wall progressed. The coffer-dam which had been built
by driving into the mud of the bottom a double row of heavy tongued and
grooved planking in two parallel rows, and bulkheading each end with
heavy boards, had been filled with concrete to low-water mark, consuming
not only the contents of the delayed scow, but two subsequent cargoes,
both of which had been unloaded by Tom Grogan.
To keep out the leakage, steam-pumps were kept going night and day.
By dint of hard work the upper masonry of the wall had been laid to the
top course, ready for the coping, and there was now every prospect that
the last stone would be lowered into place before the winter storms set
in.
The shanty--a temporary structure, good only for the life of the
work--rested on a set of stringers laid on extra piles driven outside of
the working-platform. When the submarine work lies miles from shore, a
shanty is the only shelter for the men, its interior being arranged
with sleeping-bunks, with one end partitioned off for a kitchen and
a storage-room. This last is filled with perishable property, extra
blocks, Manila rope, portable forges, tools, shovels, and barrows.
For this present sea-wall--an amphibious sort of structure, with one
foot on land and the other in the water--the shanty was of light pine
boards, roofed over, and made water-tight by tarred paper. The bunks had
been omitted, for most of the men boarded in the village. In this way
increased space for the storage of tools was gained, besides room for
a desk containing the government working drawings and specifications,
pay-rolls, etc. In addition to its door, fastened at night with a
padlock, and its one glass window, secured by a ten-penny nail, the
shanty had a flap-window, hinged at the bottom. When this was propped
up with a barrel stave it made a counter from which to pay the men, the
paymaster standing inside.
Babcock was sitting on a keg of dock spikes inside this working
shanty some days after he had discovered Tom's identity, watching his
bookkeeper preparing the pay-roll, when a face was thrust through the
square of the window. It was not a prepossessing face, rather pudgy and
sleek, with uncertain, drooping mouth, and eyes that always looked over
one's head when he talked. It was the property of Mr. Peter Lathers, the
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 8
|
AUNT WU
</b> Shu Lien!
<b>INT. YU'S ROOM - DAY
</b>
Yu, a beautiful woman in her early 30s, is finishing packing
for the convoy, wrapping a few small items in a linen
wrapper, as Aunt Wu bursts in.
<b> AUNT WU
</b> Li Mu Bai is here!
<b>INT. YUAN PRACTICE HALL - DAY
</b>
<b> LI
</b> How's everything?
<b> AUNT WU
</b> Fine. Please come in.
Yu sits, composed, as Aunt Wu ushers Li in. Li carries a
large object, wrapped in silk.
Yu smiles.
<b> YU
</b> Mu Bai...It's been too long.
<b> LI
</b> It has.
(he glances around
the room)
How's business?
<b> YU
</b> Good. And how are you?
<b> LI
</b> Fine.
An awkward pause.
<b> YU
</b> Monk Zheng said you were at Wudan
Mountain. He said you were
practicing deep meditation.
<b> LI
</b> Yes.
<b> YU
</b> The mountain must be so peaceful...
I envy you. My work keeps me so
busy, I hardly get any rest.
<b> LI
</b> I left the training early.
<b> YU
</b> Why? You're a Wudan fighter.
Training is everything.
<b> LI
</b> During my meditation training... I
came to a place of deep silence...
I was surrounded by light... Time
and space disappeared. I had come
to a place my master had never told
me about.
<b> YU
</b> You were enlightened?
<b> LI
</b> No. I didn't feel the bliss of
enlightenment. Instead... I was
surrounded by an endless sorrow. I
couldn't bear it. I broke off my
meditation. I couldn't go on.
There was something... pulling me
back.
<b> YU
</b> What was it?
<b> LI
</b> Something I can't let go of. You
are leaving soon?
<b> YU
</b> We're preparing a convoy for a
delivery to Peking.
<b> LI
</b> Perhaps I could ask you to deliver
something to Sir Te for me.
Li unwraps the object. It is an ancient, astonishingly
beautiful sword.
<b> YU
</b> The Green Destiny Sword? You're
giving it to Sir Te?
<b> LI
</b> I am. He has always been our
greatest protector.
<b> YU
</b> I don't understand. How can you
part with it? It has always been
with you.
<b> LI
</b> Too many men have died at its edge.
It only looks pure because blood
washes so easily from its blade.
<b> YU
|
greatest
|
How many times does the word 'greatest' appear in the text?
| 0
|
Brandes expresses the opinion, not that the former
play is founded upon any idea borrowed from the latter, but that it
has been written under an influence exercised by the older author
upon the younger. Brandes invariably criticises my work in such a
friendly spirit that I have all reason to be obliged to him for
this suggestion, as for so much else.
Nevertheless I must maintain that he, too, is in this instance
mistaken. I have never specially admired Henrik Hertz as a dramatist.
Hence it is impossible for me to believe that he should, unknown to
myself, have been able to exercise any influence on by dramatic
production.
As regards this point and the matter in general, I might confine
myself to referring those interested to the writings of Dr. Valfrid
Vasenius, lecturer on Aesthetics at the University of Helsingfors.
In the thesis which gained him his degree of Doctor of Philosophy,
_Henrik Ibsen's Dramatic Poetry in its First stage_ (1879), and
also in _Henrik Ibsen: The Portrait of a Skald_ (Jos. Seligman &
Co., Stockholm, 1882), Valsenious states and supports his views on
the subject of the play at present in question, supplementing them
in the latter work by what I told him, very briefly, when we were
together at Munich three years ago.
But, to prevent all misconception, I will now myself give a short
account of the origin of _The Feast at Solhoug_.
I began this Preface with the statement that _The Feast at Solhoug_
was written in the summer 1855.
In 1854 I had written _Lady Inger of Ostrat_. This was a task
which had obliged me to devote much attention to the literature
and history of Norway during the Middle Ages, especially the latter
part of that period. I did my utmost to familiarise myself with
the manners and customs, with the emotions, thought, and language
of the men of those days.
The period, however, is not one over which the student is tempted
to linger, nor does it present much material suitable for dramatic
treatment.
Consequently I soon deserted it for the Saga period. But the Sagas
of the Kings, and in general the more strictly historical traditions
of that far-off age, did not attract me greatly; at that time I was
unable to put the quarrels between kings and chieftains, parties and
clans, to any dramatic purpose. This was to happen later.
In the Icelandic "family" Sagas, on the other hand, I found in
abundance what I required in the shape of human garb for the moods,
conceptions, and thoughts which at that time occupied me, or were,
at least, more or less distinctly present in my mind. With these
Old Norse contributions to the personal history of our Saga period
I had had no previous acquaintance; I had hardly so much as heard
them named. But now N. M. Petersen's excellent translation--
excellent, at least, as far as the style is concerned--fell into
my hands. In the pages of these family chronicles, with their
variety of scenes and of relations between man and man, between
woman and woman, in short, between human being and human being,
there met me a personal, eventful, really living life; and as the
result of my intercourse with all these distinctly individual men
and women, there presented themselves to my mind's eye the first
rough, indistinct outlines of _The Vikings at Helgeland_.
How far the details of that drama then took shape, I am no longer
able to say. But I remember perfectly that the two figures of
which I first caught sight were the two women who in course of
time became Hiordis and Dagny. There was to be a great banquet
in the play, with passion-rousing, fateful quarrels during its
course. Of other characters and passions, and situations produced
by these, I meant to include whatever seemed to me most typical
of the life which the Sagas reveal. In short, it was my intention
to reproduce dramatically exactly what the Saga of the Volsungs
gives in epic form.
I made no complete, connected plan at that time; but it was evident
to me that such a drama was to be my
|
which
|
How many times does the word 'which' appear in the text?
| 5
|
As Professor of Logic and Moral Philosophy, Dr Nares began the
distribution of prizes. Buckland, in spite of his resolve to exhibit no
weakness, waited with unmistakable tremor for the announcement of the
leading name, which might possibly be his own. A few words of comment
prefaced the declaration:--never had it been the Professor's lot to
review more admirable papers than those to which he had awarded the
first prize. The name of the student called upon to come forward
was--Godwin Peak.
'Beaten!' escaped from Buckland's lips.
Mrs. Warricombe glanced at her son with smiling sympathy; Sidwell,
whose cheek had paled as her nerves quivered under the stress of
expectancy, murmured a syllable of disappointment; Mr. Warricombe set
his brows and did not venture to look aside. A moment, and all eyes
were directed upon the successful student, who rose from a seat
half-way down the hall and descended the middle passage towards the row
of Professors. He was a young man of spare figure and unhealthy
complexion, his age not easily conjectured. Embarrassment no doubt
accounted for much of the awkwardness of his demeanour; but, under any
circumstances, he must have appeared ungainly, for his long arms and
legs had outgrown their garments, which were no fashionable specimens
of tailoring. The nervous gravity of his countenance had a peculiar
sternness; one might have imagined that he was fortifying his
self-control with scorn of the elegantly clad people through whom he
passed. Amid plaudits, he received from the hands of the Principal a
couple of solid volumes, probably some standard work of philosophy,
and, thus burdened, returned with hurried step to his place.
'No one expected that,' remarked Buckland to his father. 'He must have
crammed furiously for the exam. It's outside his work for the First
B.A.'
'What a shame!' Sidwell whispered to her mother; and the reply was a
look which eloquently expressed Mrs. Warricombe's lack of sympathy with
the victor.
But a second prize had been awarded. As soon as silence was restored,
the Principal's gracious voice delivered a summons to 'Buckland Martin
Warricombe.' A burst of acclamation, coming especially from that part
of the amphitheatre where Whitelaw's nurslings had gathered in greatest
numbers, seemed to declare the second prizeman distinctly more popular
than the first. Preferences of this kind are always to be remarked on
such occasions.
'Second prize be hanged!' growled the young man, as, with a flush of
shame on his ruddy countenance, he set forth to receive the honour,
leaving Mr. Warricombe convulsed with silent laughter.
'He would far rather have had nothing at all,' murmured Sidwell, who
shared her brother's pique and humiliation.
'Oh, it'll do him good,' was her father's reply. 'Buckland has got into
a way of swaggering.'
Undeniable was the swagger with which the good-looking, breezy lad went
and returned.
'What is the book?' inquired Mr. Warricombe.
'I don't know.--Oh, Mill's _Logic_. Idiotic choice! They might have
known I had it already.'
'They clap him far more than they did Mr. Peak,' Sidwell whispered to
her mother, with satisfaction.
Buckland kept silence for a few minutes, then muttered:
'There's nothing I care about now till Chemistry and Geology. Here
comes old Wotherspoon. Now we shall know who is strongest in second
aorists. I shouldn't wonder if Peak takes both Senior Greek and Latin.
I heartily hope he'll beat that ass Chilvers.'
But the name so offensive to young Warricombe was the first that issued
from the Professor's lips. Beginning with the competition for a special
classical prize, Professor Wotherspoon announced that the honours had
fallen to 'Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers.'
'That young man is not badly supplied with brains, say what you will,'
remarked Mr. Warricombe.
Upon Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers keen attention
|
with
|
How many times does the word 'with' appear in the text?
| 10
|
is there are thousands and thousands of us. A mexican wave
erupts success, celebration, with so many involved it's
impossible to pick out anyone individually. Critical mass
cyclists, easter crowds at st. Peter's basilica, nyc
marathon, 4,000 flash mobbers doing the silent disco at
london's victoria station, india's kumbh mela, macy's
thanksgiving day parade, raves, subway parties, the daytona
500. . . . Gradually the screen splits into 2, and then 3,
though at times there appears to be no division at all.
<b> EXT. FREEWAY. NIGHT.
</b>
An overhead shot of a crammed freeway gives way to a single
vehicle, a 98 Toyota Tacoma, red and white with a topper.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b> INT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.
</b>
Cut inside as Aron Ralston, 27 cuts off the freeway.
<b> TRIPTYCH.
</b>
<b> OPENING TITLES ARE A SERIES OF TRIPTYCHS FEATURING ALL THE
</b><b> TITLE CARDS EXCEPT THE MAIN ONE. THEY BLEND, OVERLAP AND ARE
</b><b> INTERCUT WITH ADVERTS SOME FROM THE BILLBOARDS ARON'S VAN
</b><b> PASSES, SOME FROM TELEVISION AND SOME FROM THE RADIO. AND,
</b><b> OF COURSE, ALL THESE INTERCUT WITH ARON AND HIS TRUCK. AND
</b><b> THE LANDSCAPE.
</b>
<b> A TITLE CARD READS:
</b> 'Utah. The Canyonlands. The slickrock desert. The red dust
and the burnt cliffs and the lonely sky-all that which lies
beyond the end of the roads.'
Edward Abbey. Desert Solitaire.
<b>
|
thousands
|
How many times does the word 'thousands' appear in the text?
| 1
|
potatoes, and still he had threepence to the good,
besides the sixpence the gentleman gave him, which was clear profit. The
sixpence was evidently a great prize to him, for he looked at it long
and earnestly.
"Wish I could keep it for mysel'," he muttered; "but it's no go--the
guv'nor will 'ave to 'ave it. But the coppers I'll keep 'ginst bad
times. Here, Nell," he said, nudging his sister, "you keep these 'ere
coppers; and then if the guv'nor axes me if I has any more, I can tell
him no."
"All right, Benny." And again the great round eyes sought the glowing
grate, and the sweet smile played over her face once more.
"What are 'e looking at, Nell?" said Benny, after a pause. "You look as
'appy as a dead duck in a saucepan."
"Oh, Benny, I see such beautiful pictures in the fire. Don't you
'members on fine days how we looks across the river and sees the great
hills 'way behind Birkenhead, such miles an' miles away?"
"Ay, I 'members. I'll take 'e across the river some day, Nell, when I'se
richer."
"Will 'e, Benny? I shall be so glad. But I sees great hills in the fire,
an' trees, an' pools, an' little rivers, an' oh! such lots of purty
things."
"Queer!" said Benny. "I don't see nowt o' sort."
Then there was silence again, and Joe--who had been to see that the
lamps at each end of the torn-up street were all right--came up.
"How are 'e now, my 'arties? Are 'e warmer'n you was?"
"Ay, Joe, we's nice now," said Nelly; "an' we's much 'bliged to you for
lettin' us come."
"Oh, ye're welcome. But ain't it time you was to home?"
"What's o'clock?" said Benny.
"Seven, all to a minit or so."
"Ay, then, we must be off," said the children in chorus; and wishing Joe
good night, they darted off into the wet, cold street, and disappeared
in the gloom.
"Purty little hangel!" said Joe, as he stood looking up the street long
after they had disappeared. "I wonder what will become o' her when she
grows up?"
CHAPTER II.
Addler's Hall.
The whole court
Went boiling, bubbling up from all the doors
And windows, with a hideous wail of laughs
And roar of oaths, and blows, perhaps.... I passed
Too quickly for distinguishing ... and pushed
A little side door hanging on a hinge,
And plunged into the dark.
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
On the western side of Scotland Road--that is to say, between it and
the Docks--there is a regular network of streets, inhabited mostly by
the lowest class of the Liverpool poor. And those who have occasion to
penetrate their dark and filthy recesses are generally thankful when
they find themselves safe out again. In the winter those streets and
courts are kept comparatively clean by the heavy rains; but in the
summer the air fairly reeks with the stench of decayed fish, rotting
vegetables, and every other conceivable kind of filth.
The children, that seem to fairly swarm in this neighbourhood, are
nearly all of a pale, sallow complexion, and of stunted growth. Shoes
and stockings and underclothing are luxuries that they never know, and
one good meal a day is almost more than they dare hope for. Cuffs and
kicks they reckon upon every day of their lives; and in this they are
rarely disappointed, and a lad who by dodging or cunning can escape this
daily discipline is looked upon by the others as "'mazin
|
looking
|
How many times does the word 'looking' appear in the text?
| 1
|
_,
and delighted the spectators chiefly by the splendour of the costumes
and machinery employed in their representation; but, afterwards, the
chief actors spoke their parts, singing and dancing were introduced, and
the composition of masks for royal and other courtly patrons became an
occupation worthy of a poet. They were frequently combined with other
forms of amusement, all of which were, in the case of the Court, placed
under the management of a Master of Revels, whose official title was
Magister Jocorum, Revellorum et _Mascorum_; in the first printed English
tragedy, _Gorboduc_ (1565), each act opens with what is called a
dumb-show or mask. But the more elaborate form of the Mask soon grew to
be an entertainment complete in itself, and the demand for such became
so great in the time of James I. and Charles I. that the history of
these reigns might almost be traced in the succession of masks then
written. Ben Jonson, who thoroughly established the Mask in English
literature, wrote many Court Masks, and made them a vehicle less for the
display of 'painting and carpentry' than for the expression of the
intellectual and social life of his time. His masks are excelled only
by _Comus_, and possess in a high degree that 'Doric delicacy' in their
songs and odes which Sir Henry Wotton found so ravishing in Milton's
mask. Jonson, in his lifetime, declared that, next himself, only
Fletcher and Chapman could write a mask; and apart from the compositions
of these writers and of William Browne (_Inner Temple Masque_), there
are few specimens worthy to be named along with Jonson's until we come
to Milton's _Arcades_. Other mask-writers were Middleton, Dekker,
Shirley, Carew, and Davenant; and it is interesting to note that in
Carew's _Coelum Brittanicum_ (1633-4), for which Lawes composed the
music, the two boys who afterwards acted in _Comus_ had juvenile parts.
It has been pointed out that the popularity of the Mask in Milton's
youth received a stimulus from the Puritan hatred of the theatre which
found expression at that time, and drove non-Puritans to welcome the
Mask as a protest against that spirit which saw nothing but evil in
every form of dramatic entertainment. Milton, who enjoyed the
theatre--both "Jonson's learned sock" and what "ennobled hath the
buskined stage"--was led, through his friendship with the musician
Lawes, to compose a mask to celebrate the entry of the Earl of
Bridgewater upon his office of "Lord President of the Council in the
Principality of Wales and the Marches of the same." He had already
written, also at the request of Lawes, a mask, or portion of a mask,
called _Arcades_, and the success of this may have stimulated him to
higher effort. The result was _Comus_, in which the Mask reached its
highest level, and after which it practically faded out of our
literature.
Milton's two masks, _Arcades_ and _Comus_, were written for members of
the same noble family, the former in honour of the Countess Dowager of
Derby, and the latter in honour of John, first Earl of Bridgewater, who
was both her stepson and son-in-law. This two-fold relation arose from
the fact that the Earl was the son of Viscount Brackley, the Countess's
second husband, and had himself married Lady Frances Stanley, a daughter
of the Countess by her first husband, the fifth Earl of Derby. Amongst
the children of the Earl of Bridgewater were three who took important
parts in the representation of _Comus_--Alice, the youngest daughter,
then about fourteen years of age, who appeared as _The Lady_; John,
Viscount Brackley, who took the part of the _Elder Brother_, and Thomas
Egerton, who appeared as the _Second Brother_. We do not know who acted
the parts of _Comus_ and _Sabrina_, but the part of the _Attendant
Spirit_ was taken by Henry Lawes, "gentleman of the Chapel Royal, and
one of His Majesty's private musicians." The Earl's children were his
pupils, and the mask was naturally
|
case
|
How many times does the word 'case' appear in the text?
| 0
|
.C.B.,â the man who ten years earlier had
been the nearest of his friends and whose deposition from this eminence
had practically left it without an occupant. He had seen him after their
rupture, but hadnât now seen him for years. Standing there before the
fire he turned cold as he read what had befallen him. Promoted a short
time previous to the governorship of the Westward Islands, Acton Hague
had died, in the bleak honour of this exile, of an illness consequent on
the bite of a poisonous snake. His career was compressed by the
newspaper into a dozen lines, the perusal of which excited on George
Stransomâs part no warmer feeling than one of relief at the absence of
any mention of their quarrel, an incident accidentally tainted at the
time, thanks to their joint immersion in large affairs, with a horrible
publicity. Public indeed was the wrong Stransom had, to his own sense,
suffered, the insult he had blankly taken from the only man with whom he
had ever been intimate; the friend, almost adored, of his University
years, the subject, later, of his passionate loyalty: so public that he
had never spoken of it to a human creature, so public that he had
completely overlooked it. It had made the difference for him that
friendship too was all over, but it had only made just that one. The
shock of interests had been private, intensely so; but the action taken
by Hague had been in the face of men. To-day it all seemed to have
occurred merely to the end that George Stransom should think of him as
âHagueâ and measure exactly how much he himself could resemble a stone.
He went cold, suddenly and horribly cold, to bed.
CHAPTER III.
The next day, in the afternoon, in the great grey suburb, he knew his
long walk had tired him. In the dreadful cemetery alone he had been on
his feet an hour. Instinctively, coming back, they had taken him a
devious course, and it was a desert in which no circling cabman hovered
over possible prey. He paused on a corner and measured the dreariness;
then he made out through the gathered dusk that he was in one of those
tracts of London which are less gloomy by night than by day, because, in
the former case of the civil gift of light. By day there was nothing,
but by night there were lamps, and George Stransom was in a mood that
made lamps good in themselves. It wasnât that they could show him
anything, it was only that they could burn clear. To his surprise,
however, after a while, they did show him something: the arch of a high
doorway approached by a low terrace of steps, in the depth of whichâit
formed a dim vestibuleâthe raising of a curtain at the moment he passed
gave him a glimpse of an avenue of gloom with a glow of tapers at the
end. He stopped and looked up, recognising the place as a church. The
thought quickly came to him that since he was tired he might rest there;
so that after a moment he had in turn pushed up the leathern curtain and
gone in. It was a temple of the old persuasion, and there had evidently
been a functionâperhaps a service for the dead; the high altar was still
a blaze of candles. This was an exhibition he always liked, and he
dropped into a seat with relief. More than it had ever yet come home to
him it struck him as good there should be churches.
This one was almost empty and the other altars were dim; a verger
shuffled about, an old woman coughed, but it seemed to Stransom there was
hospitality in the thick sweet air. Was it only the savour of the
incense or was it something of larger intention? He had at any rate
quitted the great grey suburb and come nearer to the warm centre. He
presently ceased to feel intrusive, gaining at last even a sense of
community with the only worshipper in his neighbourhood, the sombre
presence of a woman, in mourning unrelieved, whose back was all he
|
that
|
How many times does the word 'that' appear in the text?
| 10
|
the heart and mind of America had better
learn baseball.
--Jacques Barzun
<b>
</b>
You could look it up.
--Casey Stengel
<b>
</b>
Titles over --
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
A series of still photos. Black and white. Ancient.
BABE RUTH SWINGS -- An icon of American history. His giant
upper body balanced delicately on tiny ankles and feet. The
huge bat in an elegant follow-through...
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
TY COBB ROUNDS THIRD -- The most vicious ballplayer of them
all, a balletic whirling dervish.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
JACKIE ROBINSON STEALS ROME -- Yogi Berra applies the tag.
Too late.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
JOE DIMAGGIO WITH HIS SON in the Yankee clubhouse. Walking
down the runway, Joe in uniform. Number five.
<b> PULLBACK REVEALS:
</b>
A WALL COVERED WITH BASEBALL PICTURES behind a small table
covered with objects and lit candles. A baseball, an old
baseball card, a broken bat, a rosin bag, a jar of pine tar --
also a peacock feather, a silk shawl, a picture of Isadora
Duncan. Clearly, the arrangement is -- A SHRINE -- And it
glows with the candles like some religious altar.
We hear a woman's voice in a North Carolina accent.
<b>
|
candles
|
How many times does the word 'candles' appear in the text?
| 1
|
or. He could crouch and lie low, watch his prey a long
while, spring upon it, open his jaws, swallow a mass of louis, and
then rest tranquilly like a snake in process of digestion, impassible,
methodical, and cold. No one saw him pass without a feeling of
admiration mingled with respect and fear; had not every man in Saumur
felt the rending of those polished steel claws? For this one, Maitre
Cruchot had procured the money required for the purchase of a domain,
but at eleven per cent. For that one, Monsieur des Grassins discounted
bills of exchange, but at a frightful deduction of interest. Few days
ever passed that Monsieur Grandet's name was not mentioned either in the
markets or in social conversations at the evening gatherings. To some
the fortune of the old wine-grower was an object of patriotic pride.
More than one merchant, more than one innkeeper, said to strangers
with a certain complacency: "Monsieur, we have two or three millionaire
establishments; but as for Monsieur Grandet, he does not himself know
how much he is worth."
In 1816 the best reckoners in Saumur estimated the landed property of
the worthy man at nearly four millions; but as, on an average, he had
made yearly, from 1793 to 1817, a hundred thousand francs out of that
property, it was fair to presume that he possessed in actual money a sum
nearly equal to the value of his estate. So that when, after a game of
boston or an evening discussion on the matter of vines, the talk fell
upon Monsieur Grandet, knowing people said: "Le Pere Grandet? le Pere
Grandet must have at least five or six millions."
"You are cleverer than I am; I have never been able to find out the
amount," answered Monsieur Cruchot or Monsieur des Grassins, when either
chanced to overhear the remark.
If some Parisian mentioned Rothschild or Monsieur Lafitte, the people of
Saumur asked if he were as rich as Monsieur Grandet. When the Parisian,
with a smile, tossed them a disdainful affirmative, they looked at each
other and shook their heads with an incredulous air. So large a fortune
covered with a golden mantle all the actions of this man. If in early
days some peculiarities of his life gave occasion for laughter or
ridicule, laughter and ridicule had long since died away. His least
important actions had the authority of results repeatedly shown. His
speech, his clothing, his gestures, the blinking of his eyes, were law
to the country-side, where every one, after studying him as a naturalist
studies the result of instinct in the lower animals, had come to
understand the deep mute wisdom of his slightest actions.
"It will be a hard winter," said one; "Pere Grandet has put on his fur
gloves."
"Pere Grandet is buying quantities of staves; there will be plenty of
wine this year."
Monsieur Grandet never bought either bread or meat. His farmers supplied
him weekly with a sufficiency of capons, chickens, eggs, butter, and
his tithe of wheat. He owned a mill; and the tenant was bound, over and
above his rent, to take a certain quantity of grain and return him the
flour and bran. La Grande Nanon, his only servant, though she was no
longer young, baked the bread of the household herself every Saturday.
Monsieur Grandet arranged with kitchen-gardeners who were his tenants
to supply him with vegetables. As to fruits, he gathered such quantities
that he sold the greater part in the market. His fire-wood was cut from
his own hedgerows or taken from the half-rotten old sheds which he built
at the corners of his fields, and whose planks the farmers carted into
town for him, all cut up, and obligingly stacked in his wood-house,
receiving in return his thanks. His only known expenditures were for the
consecrated bread, the clothing of his wife and daughter, the hire of
their chairs in church, the wages of la Grand Nanon, the tinning of the
saucepans, lights, taxes, repairs on his buildings, and the costs of
his
|
discussion
|
How many times does the word 'discussion' appear in the text?
| 0
|
loudspeaker declaring in French that loitering is not
permissible and that should any bags be left unattended that
they will be destroyed; the honking of the horns from other
automobiles; the unintelligible chatter of people as they get
their bearings. Inside the cab, playing on the radio, is
Angelique Kidjo's funky song "Batonga".
Then, the rear door to the cab opens and in an EXTREME CLOSE
UP we see ZED, a young man with wild, almost mesmerizing eyes
shielded by small round glasses, and with a head of nappy red
hair. His face has drops on it from the flurry outside.
He settles himself, then looks to the CAB DRIVER, an easy
going Senegalese/Frenchman, in the front seat.
<b> ZED
</b> Hotel Mondial.
<b> CAB DRIVER
</b> Le Mondial. Tres bien.
He starts driving.
<b> CAB DRIVER
</b> Avec cette pluie ca risque de prendre un
moment. L'autoroute est ferme. A cause
du 14 Juillet.
He drives for a while.
<b> CAB DRIVER
</b> [Do you mind the radio?]
Zed looks at the meter, francs are clicking away. He also
looks at the cab driver's license, his name is Moises Du
Bois.
<b> CAB DRIVER
</b> [Do you want me to turn the radio off?]
<b> ZED
</b> (realizing he's being asked a
question)
I don't speak French.
The driver turns around.
<b> CAB DRIVER
</b> (in broken English)
Ah. American?
<b> ZED
</b> That's right.
<b>
|
english
|
How many times does the word 'english' appear in the text?
| 0
|
?
POSEIDON.
Yea; but lay bare thy heart. For this land's sake
Thou comest, not for Hellas?
PALLAS.
I would make
Mine ancient enemies laugh for joy, and bring
On these Greek ships a bitter homecoming.
POSEIDON.
Swift is thy spirit's path, and strange withal,
And hot thy love and hate, where'er they fall.
PALLAS.
A deadly wrong they did me, yea within
Mine holy place: thou knowest?
POSEIDON.
I know the sin
Of Ajax[8], when he cast Cassandra down....
PALLAS.
And no man rose and smote him; not a frown
Nor word from all the Greeks!
POSEIDON.
And 'twas thine hand
That gave them Troy!
PALLAS.
Therefore with thee I stand
To smite them.
POSEIDON.
All thou cravest, even now
Is ready in mine heart. What seekest thou?
PALLAS.
An homecoming that striveth ever more
And cometh to no home.
POSEIDON.
Here on the shore
Wouldst hold them or amid mine own salt foam?
PALLAS.
When the last ship hath bared her sail for home!
Zeus shall send rain, long rain and flaw of driven
Hail, and a whirling darkness blown from heaven;
To me his levin-light he promiseth
O'er ships and men, for scourging and hot death:
Do thou make wild the roads of the sea, and steep
With war of waves and yawning of the deep,
Till dead men choke Euboea's curling bay.
So Greece shall dread even in an after day
My house, nor scorn the Watchers of strange lands!
POSEIDON.
I give thy boon unbartered. These mine hands
Shall stir the waste Aegean; reefs that cross
The Delian pathways, jag-torn Myconos,
Scyros and Lemnos, yea, and storm-driven
Caphêreus with the bones of drownèd men
Shall glut him.--Go thy ways, and bid the Sire
Yield to thine hand the arrows of his fire.
Then wait thine hour, when the last ship shall wind
Her cable coil for home! [_Exit_ PALLAS.
How are ye blind,
Ye treaders down of cities, ye that cast
Temples to desolation, and lay waste
Tombs, the untrodden sanctuaries where lie
The ancient dead; yourselves so soon to die!
[_Exit_ POSEIDON.
* * * * *
_The day slowly dawns_: HECUBA _wakes_.
HECUBA.
Up from the earth, O weary head!
This is not Troy, about, above--
Not Troy, nor we the lords thereof.
Thou breaking neck, be strengthenèd!
Endure and chafe not. The winds rave
And falter. Down the world's wide road,
Float, float where streams the breath of God;
Nor turn thy prow to breast the wave.
Ah woe!... For what woe lacketh here?
My children lost, my land, my lord.
O thou great wealth of glory, stored
Of old in Ilion, year by year
We watched ... and wert thou nothingness?
What is there that I fear to say?
And yet, what help?... Ah, well-a-day,
This ache of lying, comfortless
And haunted! Ah, my side, my brow
And temples! All with changeful pain
My body rocketh, and would fain
Move to the tune of tears that flow:
For tears are music too, and keep
A song unheard in hearts that weep.
[_She rises and gazes towards the Greek ships far off on the shore._
|
ships
|
How many times does the word 'ships' appear in the text?
| 2
|
April 14, 2010
<b> FADE IN:
</b>
<b> 1 INT. NICK'S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT 1
</b>
Looking incredibly weary, NICK WATERS, 30's, enters his
apartment in his business suit. He stumbles into --
<b> 2 INT. NICK'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION 2
</b>
He drops his briefcase, strips off his jacket, loosens
his tie and collapses onto the bed like a dead man. PAN
OVER TO the alarm clock which reads "1:23 AM."
<b> MATCH CUT TO:
</b>
<b> 3 INT. NICK'S BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING 3
</b>
The alarm clock now reads "4:59 AM." It switches to
"5:00" and a BLARING BUZZER goes off. Nick sits up in
bed, shuts off the buzzer and painfully forces himself
out of bed. He hurries out of the bedroom, passing the
saddest, deadest houseplant in history.
<b> 4 INT. NICK'S KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER 4
</b>
Nick opens his fridge to reveal a wasteland of moldy
leftover containers and crusty condiments. The orange
juice container he grabs is empty.
<b> NICK
</b> Damn.
He opens the freezer. It contains nothing but multiple
boxes of "Jimmy Dean's Breakfast Bowl -- with Bacon!" He
|
nick
|
How many times does the word 'nick' appear in the text?
| 7
|
ORCANES. I thank thee, Sigismund; but, when I war,
All Asia Minor, Africa, and Greece,
Follow my standard and my thundering drums.
Come, let us go and banquet in our tents:
I will despatch chief of my army hence
To fair Natolia and to Trebizon,
To stay my coming 'gainst proud Tamburlaine:
Friend Sigismund, and peers of Hungary,
Come, banquet and carouse with us a while,
And then depart we to our territories.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II.
Enter CALLAPINE, and ALMEDA his keeper.
CALLAPINE. Sweet Almeda, pity the ruthful plight
Of Callapine, the son of Bajazeth,
Born to be monarch of the western world,
Yet here detain'd by cruel Tamburlaine.
ALMEDA. My lord, I pity it, and with my heart
Wish your release; but he whose wrath is death,
My sovereign lord, renowmed [28] Tamburlaine,
Forbids you further liberty than this.
CALLAPINE. Ah, were I now but half so eloquent
To paint in words what I'll perform in deeds,
I know thou wouldst depart from hence with me!
ALMEDA. Not for all Afric: therefore move me not.
CALLAPINE. Yet hear me speak, my gentle Almeda.
ALMEDA. No speech to that end, by your favour, sir.
CALLAPINE. By Cairo [29] runs--
ALMEDA. No talk of running, I tell you, sir.
CALLAPINE. A little further, gentle Almeda.
ALMEDA. Well, sir, what of this?
CALLAPINE. By Cairo runs to Alexandria-bay
Darotes' stream, [30] wherein at [31] anchor lies
A Turkish galley of my royal fleet,
Waiting my coming to the river-side,
Hoping by some means I shall be releas'd;
Which, when I come aboard, will hoist up sail,
And soon put forth into the Terrene [32] sea,
Where, [33] 'twixt the isles of Cyprus and of Crete,
We quickly may in Turkish seas arrive.
Then shalt thou see a hundred kings and more,
Upon their knees, all bid me welcome home.
Amongst so many crowns of burnish'd gold,
Choose which thou wilt, all are at thy command:
A thousand galleys, mann'd with Christian slaves,
I freely give thee, which shall cut the Straits,
And bring armadoes, from [34] the coasts of Spain,
Fraughted with gold of rich America:
The Grecian virgins shall attend on thee,
Skilful in music and in amorous lays,
As fair as was Pygmalion's ivory girl
Or lovely Io metamorphosed:
With naked negroes shall thy coach be drawn,
And, as thou rid'st in triumph through the streets,
The pavement underneath thy chariot-wheels
With Turkey-carpets shall be covered,
And cloth of arras hung about the walls,
Fit objects for thy princely eye to pierce:
A hundred bassoes, cloth
|
callapine
|
How many times does the word 'callapine' appear in the text?
| 7
|
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