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[1,"Titel","titel In descriptive writing, the author does not tell the reader what was seen, felt, tested, smelled, or heard. Rather, he describes something that he experienced and, through his choice of words, makes it seem real. In other words, descriptive writing is vivid, colorful, and detailed. Read more at http://examples.yourdictionary.com/descriptive-text-examples.html#0yt7omvPollFhViG.99"],
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[5,"Titel","Praesent consectetur accumsan nulla. Cras volutpat gravida turpis, varius vulputate dolor ultricies eu. Phasellus in eros at nibh semper congue. Ut sed arcu ac nisi maximus iaculis. Nullam vitae maximus ligula. Duis vehicula eu odio in tincidunt. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos."],
[6,"Titel","Nulla in scelerisque ipsum, sed scelerisque odio. Etiam ac velit blandit, mattis purus sed, volutpat tortor. Curabitur aliquet justo sed arcu porta imperdiet. Vivamus non mauris a risus blandit fringilla sit amet eu urna. Nunc lobortis leo ac sapien malesuada, eu vehicula tellus interdum. Fusce ut malesuada mauris, at porttitor ex. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Mauris sed nulla aliquam, lobortis magna et, mollis lectus. Suspendisse posuere interdum quam, id venenatis sapien maximus in."],
[7,"Titel","Typhoon Gay was the strongest and longest-lasting storm of the 1992 Pacific typhoon season. Forming in November near the International Date Line, Gay moved through the Marshall Islands as an intensifying typhoon, severely damaging crops and leaving 5,000 people homeless. The nation's capital of Majuro experienced power and water outages during the storm. There were no fatalities among Marshall Islands citizens, although the typhoon killed an American woman in a yacht. After passing through the country, Gay reached its peak intensity over open waters before weakening rapidly and striking Guam. Most of the weaker structures on that island had been destroyed during Typhoon Omar earlier in the year, and Gay caused little additional structural damage, but strong, salty winds defoliated plants. The typhoon briefly re-intensified before weakening and becoming extratropical south of Japan, where it brought flooding and power outages to Okinawa Prefecture."],
[8,"Titel","The Interior Ministry reported at least 43 people initial deaths with Health Minister Wael Abu Faour adding that 240 people were injured, but that the total casualty count was expected to rise due to some of the wounded people being in critical condition. Lebanon's International Red Cross and Red Crescent Society affiliate said that over 200 people were injured. Hospitals in the area called for people to donate blood due to an unprecedented number of casualties. Emergency services personnel asked by-standers to leave the area as they were hindering ambulances from ferrying the injured to medical institutions.[8]"],
[9,"Titel","Two suicide bombings occurred in commercial district of the southern suburban Beirut area of Bourj al-Barajneh near the General Security Post in Hussaineya street, according to al-Manar television,[7] an apparent known stronghold of Hezbollah. The first bombings occurred outside a Shia mosque, while the second took place inside a nearby bakery before 18:00.[8] The second blast occurred about 20 metres away and five[7] to seven minutes after the first one as passers-by tried to help the injured of the initial blast. A potential third attacker was killed before exploding his vest. He was found dead with his legs torn off but still wearing an explosives’ belt, according to an unnamed Lebanese security official.[8] An unnamed government employee speculated that he was killed by second explosion due to his proximity to that blast. Al-Mayadeen TV also reported about the would-be bomber and showed a video of a bearded young man with an explosives' belt. Hezbollah's Bilal Farhat said: \"They targeted civilians, worshippers, unarmed people, women and elderly, they only targeted innocent people...[it was a] satanic, terrorist attack.\" Lebanese security forces and Hezbollah gunmen cordoned off the area.[6]"],
[10,"Titel","United States of America – National Security Council Spokesman Ned Price issued a statement that offered its condolences to the victims' families and further noted: \"Such acts of terror only reinforce our commitment to support the institutions of the Lebanese state, including the security services, to ensure a stable, sovereign, and secure Lebanon. The United States condemns in the strongest terms today's horrific terrorist attacks in Beirut...\"[11][10]"],
[11,"Titel","Häromdagen var jag inne i en butik och provade kläder. Jag var i valet och kvalet om jag skulle ta de röda klädsetet eller det svarta, eller båda. Ta det svarta, det passar till allt säger butiksbiträdet till mig när jag går mot kassorna. "],
[12,"Titel","När jag var yngre hade jag alltid en påtaglig känsla av att jag inte passade till något, så än mindre passade jag till allt. Men jag längtade efter att få göra det. Jag kände alltid att jag inte var som andra barn. Och det var jag inte heller, för andra barn hade oftast en mindre dramatisk uppväxt och en tillvaro med fotbollsträning, ridning, middag klockan 17 och så vidare. Jag brukade slåss på skolgården, tjuvrökte cigg första gången när jag var åtta och har alltid varit både höjd- och bollrädd. Men bortsett från det, kände jag mig ändå alltid annorlunda. Jag var den ungen som pratade mycket och skrattade högt. Jag fick raseriutbrott när jag blev frustrerad och ville ta nattvarden två gånger för att få en till kaka. Jag kunde liksom inte göra något lite grann, ganska, ibland eller lagom. Det var av eller på, hundra procent med huvudet först eller inget alls. Men man försökte alltid att tona ner mig. Och jag minns hur min gymnastiklärare i lågstadiet sa till flickorna i min klass att de inte skulle leka med mig, för att jag inte var som andra barn. Kontentan blev att jag alltid kände mig som att jag var för mycket men ändå aldrig tillräcklig. Så vridet kan det vara. "],
[13,"Titel","Som barn, och kanske som vuxen också, är det så kolossalt viktigt att vara omtyckt av alla. Till och med till priset av att inte få vara den man är. Men sanningen är, att jag fortfarande är den där ungen. Jag pratar fortfarande mycket och fortfarande utan filter. Jag skrattar fortfarande högt, kan bli förbannad på 0,2 sekunder, gråter krokodiltårar när jag är ledsen och kan inte bara ta en kaka när det är torsdagsfika på jobbet. Skillnaden är, att jag idag vet att jag varken kan, eller behöver passa in - och att det är okej. Det är okej att inte passa in. Det är okej att man är annorlunda och att man inte är och tänker som andra, och framför allt är det okej att inte vara omtyckt av alla och i den turen, okej att inte tycka om alla. "],
[14,"Titel","Och problemet var inte att jag inte var som andra, problemet var, att jag ville vara som andra. Och förresten är kakor godast i plural. Och förvisso passar svart till allt, men jag tog det röda, för det passar till mig. "],
[15,"Titel","Det är fortfarande oklart när barnen har dött eller om någon bodde i huset vid tidpunkten, uppger polisen. Kriminaltekniker håller just nu på att obducera kropparna, vilket kan ta tid då flera av dem uppges vara i \"mycket dåligt skick\". Enligt uppgifter i tysk media söker polisen just nu den 45-årig kvinna som i 18 års tid bodde i huset, och som uppges kunna vara mamma till barnen. Flera vittnen säger till tyska Bild att kvinnan har varit gravid upprepade gånger men ska till grannar ha uppgett att hon haft minst fyra missfall. Kvinnan ska ha bott i huset tillsammans med sin man och minst tre barn. Paret beskrivs av grannarna som vänliga och artiga. I september ska kvinnan dock ha flyttat ur huset efter bråk med maken."],
[16,"Titel","Christina Cederberg säger att hon liksom många andra varit orolig för att det hänt något. I nuläget vet ingen varför Magnus ändrat rutt och stigit i land på Kanarieöarna i stället för på Gibraltar. – Men vi är förstås lättade över allt gått bra, säger pappan Kjell Reslow. Vi förlorade aldrig hoppet och visste att Magnus var en erfaren seglare och att han hade en stabil båt. Men allt kan ju ändå hända på havet."],
[17,"Titel","These excellant intentions were strengthed when he enterd the Father Superior's diniing-room, though, stricttly speakin, it was not a dining-room, for the Father Superior had only two rooms alltogether; they were, however, much larger and more comfortable than Father Zossima's. But tehre was was no great luxury about the furnishng of these rooms eithar. The furniture was of mohogany, covered with leather, in the old-fashionned style of 1820 the floor was not even stained, but evreything was shining with cleanlyness, and there were many chioce flowers in the windows; the most sumptuous thing in the room at the moment was, of course, the beatifuly decorated table. The cloth was clean, the service shone; there were three kinds of well-baked bread, two bottles of wine, two of excellent mead, and a large glass jug of kvas -- both the latter made in the monastery, and famous in the neigborhood. There was no vodka. Rakitin related afterwards that there were five dishes: fish-suop made of sterlets, served with little fish paties; then boiled fish served in a spesial way; then salmon cutlets, ice pudding and compote, and finally, blanc-mange. Rakitin found out about all these good things, for he could not resist peeping into the kitchen, where he already had a footing. He had a footting everywhere, and got informaiton about everything. He was of an uneasy and envious temper. He was well aware of his own considerable abilities, and nervously exaggerated them in his self-conceit. He knew he would play a prominant part of some sort, but Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorble, and quite unconscios of being so himself, considering, on the contrary, that because he would not steal moneey left on the table he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have infleunced him in that."],
[18,"Titel","As they rounded a bend in the path that ran beside the river, Lara recognized the silhouette of a fig tree atop a nearby hill. The weather was hot and the days were long. The fig tree was in full leaf, but not yet bearing fruit. Soon Lara spotted other landmarks—an outcropping of limestone beside the path that had a silhouette like a man’s face, a marshy spot beside the river where the waterfowl were easily startled, a tall tree that looked like a man with his arms upraised. They were drawing near to the place where there was an island in the river. The island was a good spot to make camp. They would sleep on the island tonight. Lara had been back and forth along the river path many times in her short life. Her people had not created the path—it had always been there, like the river—but their deerskin-shod feet and the wooden wheels of their handcarts kept the path well worn. Lara’s people were salt traders, and their livelihood took them on a continual journey. At the mouth of the river, the little group of half a dozen intermingled families gathered salt from the great salt beds beside the sea. They groomed and sifted the salt and loaded it into handcarts. When the carts were full, most of the group would stay behind, taking shelter amid rocks and simple lean-tos, while a band of fifteen or so of the heartier members set out on the path that ran alongside the river. With their precious cargo of salt, the travelers crossed the coastal lowlands and traveled toward the mountains. But Lara’s people never reached the mountaintops; they traveled only as far as the foothills. Many people lived in the forests and grassy meadows of the foothills, gathered in small villages. In return for salt, these people would give Lara’s people dried meat, animal skins, cloth spun from wool, clay pots, needles and scraping tools carved from bone, and little toys made of wood. Their bartering done, Lara and her people would travel back down the river path to the sea. The cycle would begin again. It had always been like this. Lara knew no other life. She traveled back and forth, up and down the river path. No single place was home. She liked the seaside, where there was always fish to eat, and the gentle lapping of the waves lulled her to sleep at night. She was less fond of the foothills, where the path grew steep, the nights could be cold, and views of great distances made her dizzy. She felt uneasy in the villages, and was often shy around strangers. The path itself was where she felt most at home. She loved the smell of the river on a hot day, and the croaking of frogs at night. Vines grew amid the lush foliage along the river, with berries that were good to eat. Even on the hottest day, sundown brought a cool breeze off the water, which sighed and sang amid the reeds and tall grasses. Of all the places along the path, the area they were approaching, with the island in the river, was Lara’s favorite. The terrain along this stretch of the river was mostly flat, but in the immediate vicinity of the island, the land on the sunrise side was like a rumpled cloth, with hills and ridges and valleys. Among Lara’s people, there was a wooden baby’s crib, suitable for strapping to a cart, that had been passed down for generations. The island was shaped like that crib, longer than it was wide and pointed at the upriver end, where the flow had eroded both banks. The island was like a crib, and the group of hills on the sunrise side of the river were like old women mantled in heavy cloaks gathered to have a look at the baby in the crib—that was how Lara’s father had once described the lay of the landarth spoke like that all the time, conjuring images of giants and monsters in the landscape. He could perceive the spirits, called numina, that dwelled in rocks and trees. Sometimes he could speak to them and hear what they had to say. The river was his oldest friend and told him where the fishing would be best. From whispers in the wind he could foretell the next day’s weather. Because of such skills, Larth was the leader of the group."],
[19,"Titel","The flames had died. In place of intolerable brightness there was only the darkness of a warm summer night lit by the faintest sliver of a moon. The air on his face was no longer hot but fresh and cool. Fascinus had vanished—but not without planting a thought in Larth’s mind. He hurried to the leafy bower beside the river where Lara liked to sleep, thinking to himself, It must be made so, because Fascinus says it must! He knelt beside her, but there was no need to wake her. She was already awake."],
[20,"Titel","The BBC has updated its cookie policy. We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. This includes cookies from third party social media websites if you visit a page which contains embedded content from social media. Such third party cookies may track your use of the BBC website. We and our partners also use cookies to ensure we show you advertising that is relevant to you. If you continue without changing your settings, we'll assume that you are happy to receive all cookies on the BBC website. However, you can change your cookie settings at any time."],
[21,"Titel","Everyone in alcohol research knows the graph. It plots the change in annual consumption of alcohol in the UK, calculated in litres of pure alcohol per person. (None of us drinks pure alcohol, thankfully; one litre of pure alcohol is equivalent to 35 pints of strong beer.) In 1950, Brits drank an average of 3.9 litres per person. Look to the right and at first the line barely rises. Then, in 1960, it begins to creep upward. The climb becomes steadier during the 1
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