I also hope this list might be helpful for teachers and professors of writing, who want more lengthy sentence examples to show their students.
The longest sentence award goes to:. I think any sentence more than words is almost guaranteed to be complex, complicated, and enormous.
Allen, whose vacancy of mind and incapacity for thinking were such, that as she never talked a great deal, so she could never be entirely silent; and, therefore, while she sat at her work, if she lost her needle or broke her thread, if she heard a carriage in the street, or saw a speck upon her gown, she must observe it aloud, whether there were anyone at leisure to answer her or not. Improve your book with feedback from a professional editor. Learn about novel editing …. Cole of the rise and progress of the affair was so glorious — the steps so quick, from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner at Mr.
Robin; 1 st Mate , P. Bear coming over the sea to rescue him. John, white robes are given to the redeemed, and the four-and-twenty elders stand clothed in white before the great-white throne, and the Holy One that sitteth there white like wool; yet for all these accumulated associations, with whatever is sweet, and honorable, and sublime, there yet lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights in blood.
Shoot them down like the dogs they are! They aint whupped us yit, air they?
Stop making this sentence, and begin instead to make Moholy-Nagy cocktails, for those are what we really need, on the frontiers of bad behavior! Word count: He also had a thing about over-loading his sentences with scads of punctuation marks. If not, then there should be! I love that idea for a word for sentences that are longer than they need to be!
How about sententiaegus?
fitegame.cf Combining the latin for sentence and long? Some of these are breathtaking. Irimias scrapes the mud off his lead-heavy shoes, clears his throat, cautiously opens the door, and the rain begins again, while to the east, swift as memory, the sky brightens, scarlet and pale blue leans against the undulating horizon, to be followed by the sun, like a beggar daily panting up to his spot on the temple steps, full of heartbreak and misery, ready to establish the world of shadows, to separate the trees one from the other, to raise, out of the freezing, confusing homogeneity of night in which they seem to have been trapped like flies in a web, a clearly defined earth and sky with distinct animals and men, the darkness still in flight at the edge of things, somewhere in the far side of the western horizon, where its countless terrors vanish one by one like a desperate, confused, defeated army.
Interesting blog. There are several in Philip Roth around the to word mark. Musgrove and her daughter within. When I imagine the woman who wrote them, I think of her as about my age, maybe a little younger. I can see why she wrote that, on the wall of the cupboard, but I also see that she must have learned it, here, in this room. Where else? She was never a schoolboy. With him, during some previous period of boyhood reminiscence, of confidences exchanged. I have not been the first then. There is something powerful in the whispering of obscenities, about those in power. It deflates them, reduces them to the common denominator where they can be dealt with.
It was like a flag waved from a hilltop in rebellion.
Therefore I am sent for…. What does he get for it, his role as page boy? Like the flag of an unknown country, seen for an instant above a curve of hill, it could mean attack, it could mean parley, it could mean the edge of something, a territory. The Commander is standing in front of the fireless fireplace, back to it, one elbow on the carved wooden overmantel, other hand in his pocket. When I knocked he probably rushed over to the fireplace and propped himself up.
She does such things to look good, I think. But that is what I must look like to her, as well. How can it be otherwise? Possibly nobody ever talked like that in real life, it was all a fabrication from the beginning. Something could be exchanged, we thought, some deal made, some trade-off, we still had our bodies.
The image of the peephole suggests the intimacy of her earlier conversations with Moira, but in fact, the potential for such common ground is absent here. Dishtowels are the same as they always were. Sometimes these flashes of normality come at me from the side, like ambushes. The ordinary, the usual, a reminder, like a kick.
I see the dishtowel, out of context, and I catch my breath. Likewise, her relationship with Luke, who was at first a married man with a pedantic interest in etymology, is ironically rendered in her role as a Handmaid and her relationship to the Commander. He gives her his word, which she can take or reject.
It is her faith, in Nick as in her readers, that frees her, that liberates her at last into a field of possibility and difficulty, where she can finally compose herself, in a story that is her own. You can suggest to your library or institution to subscribe to the program OpenEdition Freemium for books.
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