Thank you all so much for the support lately! i know i havent posted much but thats because i have focused on quality over quantity but we posting more often now :) be sure to like and sub and join the server discord.gg/pTkfSESFeM
Most book lovers would agree that coming across a very long sentence in a novel can sometimes require multiple reads to comprehend. The world of literature is full of examples of sprawling monologues and multi-line descriptions, but it was American writer William Faulkner who was featured in the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for his lengthy passage from his 1936 book, Absalom, Absalom! The huge run-on sentence consists of 1,288 words and countless clauses. It takes patience to read, but once you get into the rhythm, it’s like delving into Faulkner’s stream of consciousness. The experimental writer’s sentence style inspired hundreds of writers since, including Samuel Beckett, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce, and other masters of modern literature. Nowadays, postmodern fiction writers such as John Barth are still influenced by Faulkner’s run-on technique. He once said, “It was Faulkner at his most involuted and incantatory who most enchanted me.” The current record holder for the longest english sentence is Jonathan Coe for his staggering 33-page, 13,955-word sentence in The Rotter’s Club, 2001. Though the record has been broken, Faulkner's legacy lives on. William Faulkner was featured in 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for this 1,288-word sentence from Absalom, Absalom! Try to read it without getting out of breath. Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragon’s outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunt’s indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditor’s hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demon’s command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before ’61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-be’s wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm’ each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old man’s state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, ‘Kill them! Shoot them down like the dogs they are!’ and Jones: ‘Sho, Kernel; sho now’ and catching him as he fell and commandeering the first passing wagon to take him to the house and carry him up the front steps and through the paintless formal door beneath its fanlight imported pane by pane from Europe which Judith held open for him to enter with no change, no alteration in that calm frozen face which she had worn for four years now, and on up the stairs and into the bedroom and put him to bed like a baby and then lie down himself on the floor beside the bed though not to sleep since before dawn the man on the bed would stir and groan and Jones would say, ‘flyer I am, Kernel. Hit’s all right. They aint whupped us yit, air they?’ this Jones who after the demon rode away with the regiment when the granddaughter was only eight years old would tell people that he ‘was lookin after Major’s place and niggers’ even before they had time to ask him why he was not with the troops and perhaps in time came to believe the lie himself, who was among the first to greet the demon when he returned, to meet him at the gate and say, ‘Well, Kernel, they kilt us but they aint whupped us yit, air they?’ who even worked, labored, sweat at the demon’s behest during that first furious period while the demon believed he could restore by sheer indomitable willing the Sutpen’s Hundred which he remembered and had lost, labored with no hope of pay or reward who must have seen long before the demon did (or would admit it) that the task was hopeless-blind Jones who apparently saw still in that furious lecherous wreck the old fine figure of the man who once galloped on the black thoroughbred about that domain two boundaries of which the eye could not see from any point. h/t: [Open Culture] Related Articles: Behind the Scenes: How the British Library Digitizes One of the World’s Biggest Books View Leonardo Da Vinci’s Notebooks Online and Go Inside the Mind of a Genius Library Places 1,600+ Occult Books Online With Help From ‘The Da Vinci Code’ Author 20+ Creative Gifts for People Who Love to Read
I wish I could be like u someday, plus when I joined da hood they were so many hackers and people killing and stomping me, I didn’t know where to go or what to do, and ur my inspiration, I wish I could make vids like u someday
Thank you all so much for the support lately! i know i havent posted much but thats because i have focused on quality over quantity but we posting more often now :) be sure to like and sub and join the server discord.gg/pTkfSESFeM
Hii I am your biggest fan
OMG NEW VIDEO👍😎😎
new videoo😃
thats alright!! hope you are having a good life.
After all of this time your still growing I was one of your first subscriber 😢😢😢😢 🎉🎉🎉
crispy is a flying W
real
Realism
Very epic fact:he exposed A TON.. Of stars
Facts
Hes flying wym?
Most book lovers would agree that coming across a very long sentence in a novel can sometimes require multiple reads to comprehend. The world of literature is full of examples of sprawling monologues and multi-line descriptions, but it was American writer William Faulkner who was featured in the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for his lengthy passage from his 1936 book, Absalom, Absalom!
The huge run-on sentence consists of 1,288 words and countless clauses. It takes patience to read, but once you get into the rhythm, it’s like delving into Faulkner’s stream of consciousness. The experimental writer’s sentence style inspired hundreds of writers since, including Samuel Beckett, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce, and other masters of modern literature.
Nowadays, postmodern fiction writers such as John Barth are still influenced by Faulkner’s run-on technique. He once said, “It was Faulkner at his most involuted and incantatory who most enchanted me.” The current record holder for the longest english sentence is Jonathan Coe for his staggering 33-page, 13,955-word sentence in The Rotter’s Club, 2001. Though the record has been broken, Faulkner's legacy lives on.
William Faulkner was featured in 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for this 1,288-word sentence from Absalom, Absalom! Try to read it without getting out of breath.
Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragon’s outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunt’s indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditor’s hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demon’s command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before ’61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-be’s wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm’ each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old man’s state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, ‘Kill them! Shoot them down like the dogs they are!’ and Jones: ‘Sho, Kernel; sho now’ and catching him as he fell and commandeering the first passing wagon to take him to the house and carry him up the front steps and through the paintless formal door beneath its fanlight imported pane by pane from Europe which Judith held open for him to enter with no change, no alteration in that calm frozen face which she had worn for four years now, and on up the stairs and into the bedroom and put him to bed like a baby and then lie down himself on the floor beside the bed though not to sleep since before dawn the man on the bed would stir and groan and Jones would say, ‘flyer I am, Kernel. Hit’s all right. They aint whupped us yit, air they?’ this Jones who after the demon rode away with the regiment when the granddaughter was only eight years old would tell people that he ‘was lookin after Major’s place and niggers’ even before they had time to ask him why he was not with the troops and perhaps in time came to believe the lie himself, who was among the first to greet the demon when he returned, to meet him at the gate and say, ‘Well, Kernel, they kilt us but they aint whupped us yit, air they?’ who even worked, labored, sweat at the demon’s behest during that first furious period while the demon believed he could restore by sheer indomitable willing the Sutpen’s Hundred which he remembered and had lost, labored with no hope of pay or reward who must have seen long before the demon did (or would admit it) that the task was hopeless-blind Jones who apparently saw still in that furious lecherous wreck the old fine figure of the man who once galloped on the black thoroughbred about that domain two boundaries of which the eye could not see from any point.
h/t: [Open Culture]
Related Articles:
Behind the Scenes: How the British Library Digitizes One of the World’s Biggest Books
View Leonardo Da Vinci’s Notebooks Online and Go Inside the Mind of a Genius
Library Places 1,600+ Occult Books Online With Help From ‘The Da Vinci Code’ Author
20+ Creative Gifts for People Who Love to Read
"I feel like I'm being toxic rn"
Bro is so unaware that he's feeling toxic while playing a game full of radioactive wastes💀
I don't understand
I feel your like an hater
He made this comment a year ago motherfucker@@rowenapetras3207
@@rowenapetras3207he is saying that da hood communoty is toxic
some da hood players (most) are literally just as toxic as the Chernobyl accident
i9 love how he talks a lot abt the anti fog LMFAO 😂
every vid😂
keep up the great work Crispy!
I just found your channel yesterday and I already watched half of your vdeos!
same his vids are nice
wait he is the owner of dahood?
@@dodging_dummy585 no dummy
@@GokublackTheGoatfrBro kid stfu why you being rude he asked a question
Never thought i would see myself watching roblox but content is enjoyable and relaxing 😂 nice content bro ❤
9:29 THAT COMMAND HAD ME ROLLING😂
Fr bruh 💀😂
yeah
I'm a fan of juice and that still have me rolling 😭
that script has already been detected and isn't work in 20:23, I published new version.
Bro the dev gave him mods
I dont know what i hate the most, he tryna be sorry for the kids or the kids that still tryna have their girlfriends back.
Its the first time i see someone on roblox actually making some edaters break up in such a stupid way
4:40 she was a fairy
5:57 100% racially motivated
i love how crispy talks about the annoying fog
W man thank u for everything
7:12 "No shit" That got me 😂
Hi mb asking but what u use for snipe People
You just got a new subscriber:) I love this video 😂
WWWW uploadd as always crispy it was very funny and made my day betterr ❤
Bro crispgo go I love ur videos so much every time oyu post you😊 make my day so much better
"Dont ever get near my wife" IM LAUGHING OUT LOUD FR 😂
I would finish my last 100 mbs in my data watching crispy
I love ur videos so much! Never give up
OMG EARLY HII I AM A HUGE FAN🎉🎉🎉🎉
I just wanted support because I know it was a long time to make video Andi just wanted to say ilove your videos💞 keep up the work
I wish I could be like u someday, plus when I joined da hood they were so many hackers and people killing and stomping me, I didn’t know where to go or what to do, and ur my inspiration, I wish I could make vids like u someday
Yo crispy ill ask You a question is krnl a good executor?
Your my best roblox RUclipsr Lmaoo😂
never talk sh*t to crip💀
LOVE IT KEEP IT COMING
If a fly didn't have wings would it be called a walk??
You got a point there
Crispy good content as always W CRISPY
Being nice❌
Simping ✅
Must’ve gotten a lot of experience on da hood
7:24, you forgot he actually was letting you get it, lol
Great Content keep up the good work!
dude crispy is right imagine say a girl " wife " when you never seen her in your life 💀
what do you use to rename urself?
Bro is the only good hacker that's actually funni
Sup crispy been a while
Crispy>simps
Hey Crispy what script u are using , and what executor u would recommend me , because i use delta :D
The gui Exploit but the admin Its not
My mans won't let a single human being get near a 20 mile radius of a woman because it's simping. That's real respect right there.
Not really tbh
@@st4rrynaedud online dating is not allowed in roblox wdym "not really tbh" if u can get 5 days ban+ur only dating some pixels
@@edgarbarrios-hs9nb fr like imagine falling for a brick 💀
0:02 hUman being what kinda human you are 😂
That was Elias or ezra?
When I seen his guy I had to subscribe this guy is awesome and funny and the way people get mad 😂😂😂
Crispy I respect you homie What you're doing is making roblox of what it was before a friendly game👍
6:00 bro is on a villain arc
“don’t get near my wife” literally him that didn’t meet her irl: 😭
2:14
Girl : AAAAAA
You : Now get trolled idot
Girl : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA **deds from void**
This is so entertaining. Bullying kids on da hood is really fun even tho is rude af.
at the beginning bro just ruined someones entire relationship W crispy
5:45 ☠️
Crispy im new sub i have question are you admin of da hood
this script has been already detected and didn't work in 20:23, I found an updated version and published it!
LITERY THE BEST RUclipsR
Fax
beger
I hate simps bro they people that have no love and I beg your pardon they have -10,000 cash in there bank rn
Yo if I buy faded premium is that’s script or premium on me account?
wat exucuter u got?
True legend crispy go W 🎉
hey crispy I am a big fan bro
*to commenters* wdym banger or your videos are always perfect? The video is 11 mins and u just saw this 4 minutes ago bruh stop lying 💀
I dont even play dh but im subbed to thus guy cuz hes funny 😂❤
Your videos is always perfect
hello crispy!
A few years ago I remember being in one of your vids 😂
people minding their own Business:
CrispyGo: stop dancing >:(
The most chilliest exploiter
He is not
Omg crispy is the smartest and my 2nd fav da hood content creator
Will there be a tutorial for the avatar and the command?
first video watching you and u should do more of you being fly
pls tell me how to get the rename command i asked you on discord
10:39 bro what did mitsuri do😭😭 also im a fan
What’s the script for cmds
Its paid, destiny Premium it Costs 2500 robux
Hi crispy... I wanted to ask how u get all those commands.
I never thought I would see an ds fan playing da hood💀
what hacking app do u use
how do u do these bring and dropcash commands it dont work for me
how does he get those admin commands
faded premium
2:09 BRO REALLY HAS FLUNG HER TO SPACE LIKE KICK THE BABY, also this made me rofl
how do you always get into star player servers
crispy's risking his account gettin IP banned just to make content for us. W
3:38😂😂
Crispy my fav yter he’s epic I want exploits to troll but I need an running thing
ONG CRISPY LIKED
how you use these commands? like drop cash or bring
Crispy is a fly! 😂
ur biggest fan. i love u
Nobody gonna talk bout the fact he said "!juice wrld" and she went into a seizure 💀 9:27
3:39😂😂😂
He earned my respect
Crispy they saying monkey to be racist to the people who is black that why
yo cripsy how you get the commands, if it a script can you put he script in a vid or in this comment?
*Sniff* *Sniff* I smell........ underrated 😰❤️
how do u get these commands like ;freeze or ;bring?
Another banger ❤
Him calling mitsuri from demon slayer a crackhead just made me rage...
Edit: 10:36
How did you fly & stuff?
Amazing work best w every keep up the great work man
When Crispygo dies the emo guy when crispygo yeets into other dimensio- 7:23
What are those eyes that crispy is wearing? I meant how are they called
bro guess How many flys are Dead in my bedroom 💀
41 Flys Dead in my bedroom