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Practice and improve writing style.

Improve your writing style by practicing using this free tool

Practice and improve your writing style below

Below, I have some random texts from popular authors. All you have to do is, spend some time daily, and type these lines in the box below. And, eventually, your brain picks the writing style, and your own writing style improves!

Practice writing like:

Type these lines in the boxes below to practice and improve your writing style.

'Let's gamble and have them bring one to the landing. What do we have to lose?'

 

'You can't eat on that. You have to be that, always, and then be the smartest of the smart. Then you need a lot of stuff coming up.'

 

There would be the telephone call. But it might be very late because she would be sleeping late. The young sleep late, he thought, and the beautiful sleep half again as late. She certainly would not call early and the shops did not open until nine or a little later.

 

'It was young girl poetry. Like young girl painting. Everyone is talented at a certain age.'

 

'I was only thinking of the face,' the Colonel said. 'But thank you for calling my attention. My attention has been faulty again.'

 

'You run along, Helen/ she said. 'I want to talk to Harold.'

 

'I don't know, 5 Nick said, getting wood for a fire.

 

'You got to take a cure, Billy,' Mr. Turner said. 'You won't mind the Keeley. It isn't bad.'

 

'That is all right/ said Mr. Wheeler. He looked out of the window again, drank the coffee, and lit a cigarette.

 

'They're regular elephants we've got to-night,' the boy said cheerfully.

 

“Be a good chap, Jake. Don’t tell her anything more about him. Tell her how they beat their old mothers.”

 

At Irun we had to change trains and show passports. I hated to leave France. Life was so simple in France. I felt I was a fool to be going back into Spain. In Spain you could not tell about anything. I felt like a fool to be going back into it, but I stood in line with my passport, opened my bags for the customs, bought a ticket, went through a gate, climbed onto the train, and after forty minutes and eight tunnels I was at San Sebastian.

 

“I won’t eat down-stairs with that German head waiter. He was damned snotty when I was getting Mike up-stairs.”

 

“Oh, forget about it,” Robert Cohn said. “Let’s bet on something else. Can you bet on bull-fights?”

 

He was being confidential now and it was giving him pleasure to be able to talk with the understanding that I knew there was something between him and Brett.

 

 

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