Photo Editing
Jelly-o cake chocolate bar marzipan. Jelly tootsie roll liquorice pastry brownie donut. Chocolate cake soufflé chocolate tiramisu cake candy cake sesame snaps. Sweet roll danish chocolate bar chupa chups tiramisu lemon drops. Topping lollipop jelly danish chocolate cake cookie bear claw pie chupa chups. Icing jujubes soufflé topping chupa chups chocolate pastry sugar plum danish. Pastry sweet roll dragée liquorice gingerbread. Oat cake bonbon ice cream. Powder gingerbread marzipan wafer sweet danish. Ice cream chupa chups dragée oat cake chocolate bar. Donut toffee chocolate cake halvah. Wafer toffee jelly-o carrot cake halvah cotton candy cotton candy cake. Chocolate cake topping jelly-o topping croissant danish gingerbread. Gingerbread sugar plum fruitcake jelly-o biscuit jelly-o cheesecake bear claw cookie. Ice cream danish fruitcake jujubes gummi bears biscuit chocolate cake. Tiramisu marzipan jelly-o cheesecake pie. Cake candy sweet roll. Sesame snaps candy canes cotton candy pie cake oat cake cupcake jelly-o. Biscuit candy canes…
Made by Originals
Human faces are very powerful. User Experience designer Aarron Walter describes in his book Designing for Emotion why we appreciate human faces so much. He explains that we are constantly exploring the world around us by looking for something familiar. Familiarity gives us a feeling of comfort and reassurance. When we see a face, we are automatically triggered to feel something or to empathize with that person. If we recognize content on a website — such as a problem, dilemma, habit or whatever else — we feel connected and understood. Since we know ourselves so well, we unconsciously try to relate everything we see to ourselves. Obviously, we do that with other human faces, but also with when there are no human features involved. Only the recognition of our body’s proportions in a design is enough for us to perceive the design as being familiar and harmonic. This is the…
Photo Editing
Jelly-o cake chocolate bar marzipan. Jelly tootsie roll liquorice pastry brownie donut. Chocolate cake soufflé chocolate tiramisu cake candy cake sesame snaps. Sweet roll danish chocolate bar chupa chups tiramisu lemon drops. Topping lollipop jelly danish chocolate cake cookie bear claw pie chupa chups. Icing jujubes soufflé topping chupa chups chocolate pastry sugar plum danish. Pastry sweet roll dragée liquorice gingerbread. Oat cake bonbon ice cream. Powder gingerbread marzipan wafer sweet danish. Ice cream chupa chups dragée oat cake chocolate bar. Donut toffee chocolate cake halvah. Wafer toffee jelly-o carrot cake halvah cotton candy cotton candy cake. Chocolate cake topping jelly-o topping croissant danish gingerbread. Gingerbread sugar plum fruitcake jelly-o biscuit jelly-o cheesecake bear claw cookie. Ice cream danish fruitcake jujubes gummi bears biscuit chocolate cake. Tiramisu marzipan jelly-o cheesecake pie. Cake candy sweet roll. Sesame snaps candy canes cotton candy pie cake oat cake cupcake jelly-o. Biscuit candy canes…
Block Quote Example
Meantime Giorgio, with tranquil movements, had been unfastening the door; the flood of light fell on Signora Teresa, with her two girls gathered to her side, a picturesque woman in a pose of maternal exaltation. Behind her the wall was dazzlingly white, and the crude colours of the Garibaldi lithograph paled in the sunshine. Old Viola, at the door, moved his arm upwards as if referring all his quick, fleeting thoughts to the picture of his old chief on the wall. Even when he was cooking for the “Signori Inglesi”—the engineers (he was a famous cook, though the kitchen was a dark place)—he was, as it were, under the eye of the great man who had led him in a glorious struggle where, under the walls of Gaeta, tyranny would have expired for ever had it not been for that accursed Piedmontese race of kings and ministers. When sometimes a…
Standard Format with Featured Image
At night the body of clouds advancing higher up the sky smothers the whole quiet gulf below with an impenetrable darkness, in which the sound of the falling showers can be heard beginning and ceasing abruptly—now here, now there. Indeed, these cloudy nights are proverbial with the seamen along the whole west coast of a great continent. Sky, land, and sea disappear together out of the world when the Placido—as the saying is—goes to sleep under its black poncho. The few stars left below the seaward frown of the vault shine feebly as into the mouth of a black cavern. In its vastness your ship floats unseen under your feet, her sails flutter invisible above your head. The eye of God Himself—they add with grim profanity—could not find out what work a man’s hand is doing in there; and you would be free to call the devil to your aid…
Wildlife Safari
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Markup: HTML Tags and Formatting
That last is no more than a foot high, and about seven paces across, a mere flat top of a grey rock which smokes like a hot cinder after a shower, and where no man would care to venture a naked sole before sunset. On the Little Isabel an old ragged palm, with a thick bulging trunk rough with spines, a very witch amongst palm trees, rustles a dismal bunch of dead leaves above the coarse sand. The Great Isabel has a spring of fresh water issuing from the overgrown side of a ravine. Resembling an emerald green wedge of land a mile long, and laid flat upon the sea, it bears two forest trees standing close together, with a wide spread of shade at the foot of their smooth trunks. A ravine extending the whole length of the island is full of bushes; and presenting a deep tangled cleft…
Multiple Page Post
The only sign of commercial activity within the harbour, visible from the beach of the Great Isabel, is the square blunt end of the wooden jetty which the Oceanic Steam Navigation Company (the O.S.N. of familiar speech) had thrown over the shallow part of the bay soon after they had resolved to make of Sulaco one of their ports of call for the Republic of Costaguana. The State possesses several harbours on its long seaboard, but except Cayta, an important place, all are either small and inconvenient inlets in an iron-bound coast—like Esmeralda, for instance, sixty miles to the south—or else mere open roadsteads exposed to the winds and fretted by the surf. Perhaps the very atmospheric conditions which had kept away the merchant fleets of bygone ages induced the O.S.N. Company to violate the sanctuary of peace sheltering the calm existence of Sulaco. The variable airs sporting lightly with…
More Tag Example
It might have been said that there he was only protecting his own. From the first he had been admitted to live in the intimacy of the family of the hotel-keeper who was a countryman of his. Old Giorgio Viola, a Genoese with a shaggy white leonine head—often called simply “the Garibaldino” (as Mohammedans are called after their prophet)—was, to use Captain Mitchell’s own words, the “respectable married friend” by whose advice Nostromo had left his ship to try for a run of shore luck in Costaguana.
The old man, full of scorn for the populace, as your austere republican so often is, had disregarded the preliminary sounds of trouble. He went on that day as usual pottering about the “casa” in his slippers, muttering angrily to himself his contempt of the non-political nature of the riot, and shrugging his shoulders. In the end he was taken unawares by the out-rush of the rabble. It was too late then to remove his family, and, indeed, where could he have run to with the portly Signora Teresa and two little girls on that great plain? So, barricading every opening, the old man sat down sternly in the middle of the darkened cafe with an old shot-gun on his knees. His wife sat on another chair by his side, muttering pious invocations to all the saints of the calendar.
The old republican did not believe in saints, or in prayers, or in what he called “priest’s religion.” Liberty and Garibaldi were his divinities; but he tolerated “superstition” in women, preserving in these matters a lofty and silent attitude.
His two girls, the eldest fourteen, and the other two years younger, crouched on the sanded floor, on each side of the Signora Teresa, with their heads on their mother’s lap, both scared, but each in her own way, the dark-haired Linda indignant and angry, the fair Giselle, the younger, bewildered and resigned. The Patrona removed her arms, which embraced her daughters, for a moment to cross herself and wring her hands hurriedly. She moaned a little louder.
“Oh! Gian’ Battista, why art thou not here? Oh! why art thou not here?”
She was not then invoking the saint himself, but calling upon Nostromo, whose patron he was. And Giorgio, motionless on the chair by her side, would be provoked by these reproachful and distracted appeals.
“Peace, woman! Where’s the sense of it? There’s his duty,” he murmured in the dark; and she would retort, panting—
“Eh! I have no patience. Duty! What of the woman who has been like a mother to him? I bent my knee to him this morning; don’t you go out, Gian’ Battista—stop in the house, Battistino—look at those two little innocent children!”
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