Johnyxxx
Senior Member
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2014
- Member Type
- Interested in Language
- Native Language
- Czech
- Home Country
- Czech Republic
- Current Location
- Czech Republic
Hello.
I am confused a little bit because it seems to me as though the sentence "Perhaps it was ... yes, and love" did not fit in the context. Does it refer to the first sentence in the paragraph? ("But I got nowhere with the theory ...")
When careful measurement, analysis and deduction convinced me — mainly from the fact that the lowermost layers of brick all had fallen outward, while the upper portions toppled in — I began to link up this mysterious and horrific force with the one which had rent the Lodge asunder. It looked as though a typhoon or gigantic centrifuge had needed elbow room in ripping down the wooden structure.
But I got nowhere with the theory, though in ordinary affairs I am called a man of too great imaginative tendencies. No less than three editors have cautioned me on this point. Perhaps it was the narrowing influence of great personal sympathy — yes, and love. I make no excuses, though beyond a dim understanding that some terrific, implacable force must have made spot his playground, I ended my ninth day of note-taking and investigation almost as much in the dark as I had been while a thousand miles away in Chicago.
Anthony M. Rud, Ooze, 1923.
Thanks a lot.
I am confused a little bit because it seems to me as though the sentence "Perhaps it was ... yes, and love" did not fit in the context. Does it refer to the first sentence in the paragraph? ("But I got nowhere with the theory ...")
When careful measurement, analysis and deduction convinced me — mainly from the fact that the lowermost layers of brick all had fallen outward, while the upper portions toppled in — I began to link up this mysterious and horrific force with the one which had rent the Lodge asunder. It looked as though a typhoon or gigantic centrifuge had needed elbow room in ripping down the wooden structure.
But I got nowhere with the theory, though in ordinary affairs I am called a man of too great imaginative tendencies. No less than three editors have cautioned me on this point. Perhaps it was the narrowing influence of great personal sympathy — yes, and love. I make no excuses, though beyond a dim understanding that some terrific, implacable force must have made spot his playground, I ended my ninth day of note-taking and investigation almost as much in the dark as I had been while a thousand miles away in Chicago.
Anthony M. Rud, Ooze, 1923.
Thanks a lot.
