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发现更多的随机性 写作思路
显示更多显示更少为什么要使用段落?
段落是处理特定观点或想法的书面话语的独立单元。 一个段落由一个或多个句子组成。 尽管任何语言的语法都不需要段落,但段落通常是正式写作的预期部分,用于组织更长的散文。
段落的目的是表达演讲者或作家的控制思想,并以具体的方式支持它。 一篇文章中的大多数段落都有三部分的结构-介绍,正文和结论。
引言(第一句)为接下来的内容奠定了基础,并阐述了要点。 身体(句子2-4 )以支持的细节和解释来发展这一点。 结论(最后一句)重申了要点或总结了所说的内容。
段落的语言历史
段落的创建是文本和通信的重要组成部分,可以在古代找到。 在古典时代,写作通常由将文本分成较小部分的时段或段落组成。 作者能够一次专注于一个想法,因为这种特殊的布局能够中断思想的流动。 段落的使用首先出现在希腊历史学家的著作中,如公元前5世纪中叶的希罗多德。 在他的历史中,希罗多德将事件分为段落,使它们更容易记住和联系。 他的同学,历史学家修昔底德(公元前5世纪) ,使用段落来组织他的作品,类似于赫尔曼诺特。 这一段的历史可以追溯到欧洲的希腊罗马文化、中东和西方文明。 有证据表明,诗篇在希伯来圣经中被分为段落。 阿拉伯诗人在作品中也使用了拼音来分隔节。 古兰经可能是中世纪第一个使用段落的文字,是阿拉伯世界的一个例子。 段落首先出现在西方世界的书面英语中,特别是在13世纪和14世纪的手稿中。 当时的作家们使用缩进甚至微小的图画来将他们的作品分成几个部分。 到文艺复兴时期,更多的作家在写作中使用段落,缩进的风格变得更加一致。 书信传统,专注于交际作品,分为较短的,交替的段落,出现在16世纪。 第一个“现代”段落出现在17世纪中叶。 威廉·莎士比亚和克里斯托弗·马洛都使用了我们今天所知道的段落结构。 通过这种简单的安排,案文被分成几个部分,使沟通更加简单和高效。 莎士比亚的当代作家威廉·米切尔( William Mitchell )出版了一系列关于现代段落结构和布局的作品,完善了它的使用和风格。 随着时间的推移,该段的某些组成部分已被添加或删除。 例如,一些文本现在依赖于以前可能被认为不必要的嵌入式链接和图像。 尽管如此,该段落的基础仍然是一样的:一段文本通过标点符号或格式与另一段文本分开,允许作者一次专注于一个想法而不会被打断。
5个问题来帮助你提出段落
- 我想在我的段落中讨论的主要主题是什么?
- 我可以举出哪些例子和证据来支持我的观点?
- 我的段落应该使用什么语气和风格?
- 我应该使用哪些特定的单词,短语或图像?
- 该段落在哪里适合写作的更广泛背景?
我可以使用这个工具创建的随机段落吗?
是的,你可以。The Story Shack声称对这些名字没有任何版权要求,但当然也有可能这个名字生成器提供的一些价值已经被其他任何人所拥有,所以请确保总是做你的尽职调查。
我可以用这个[名字]产生多少个想法?
这个随机段落生成器可以为你的项目产生数以千计的想法,所以请放心地继续点击,最后使用方便的复制功能将你的段落导出到你选择的文本编辑器。尽情享受吧!
什么是好的段落?
在这个生成器中,有成千上万的随机段落。这里有一些样本可以开始。
理念 #1 | It may have been the devil himself who prompted the kids in my schoolyard back in 1947 to chant “Patsy Foley’s roly-poly from eating too much ravioli.” | © Donal Mahoney |
理念 #2 | Time was not coming through for Steven. | © Dave Novak |
理念 #3 | There’s a frail woman with frizzy hair sitting in front of me at the coffee shop who I want to punch in the face. She hasn’t wronged me in anyway — she is merely sipping her coffee, inconspicuously nibbling on a blueberry muffin with bony, liver-spotted fingers — but I want to crack her nose with my fist. I know it’s terrible |
理念 #4 | the thought alone would make anyone find me offensive and cruel, but I would never do it. It’s just a thought. We all have them, right? | © Jonathan Dittman |
理念 #5 | She woke up in her bed like every morning to the stone wall room: a light-bulb hanging in the middle of the room, a mirror framed with cobwebs, and dirty plates left to be collected by the people dressed in fine robes that never said a word. The girl started her day as she always did by trying to pull open the hatch that kept the window concealed. When her arms got tired she dragged a small stool under the light-bulb and started to read her book. It was a simple story and the only one she had ever known, but one line near the beginning always fascinated her. The people went about their day under the sun. | © Andy Cashmore |
理念 #6 | My captor from time to time reaches down and strokes my forehead, my cheek, with what seems to be a loving touch, filled with compassion, as though he cares |
理念 #7 | he all too quickly withdraws that same hand and calls an assistant over to tend to a perfunctory duty: my bathing, my feeding, my excrement needs. I suppose he’s above performing such tasks himself. After all, it is he who holds me captive |
理念 #8 | he is the one who orders others to minister to my needs. They obey his commands to the letter. | © Robert Paul Blumenstein |
理念 #9 | This story first appeared in The Bookends Review on December 16, 2016. | © Amy Vatner |
理念 #10 | There are twelve rifles. Eleven contain a live round. A blank cartridge is in one. You have no way of knowing which resides in the weapon you are given. | © Joe Kilgore |
理念 #11 | I awoke, sat up and realized that the circular platform I was on was floating high above mountains and under a high cloud. I had no idea how I got there and I don’t know how it just hovered there like that. Two others were there already, Utina and Paul. They immediately wanted to know my story, especially what I’d been dreaming. I told them that I had been in my jail cell, alone, sleeping and my dreams were the nightmares I always had, of combat. My outpost had been overrun by Afghan rebels after more than twelve hours of constant fighting, lots of it hand to hand, bodies everywhere. I was lightly wounded, I thought. My nightmares got so bad that I later tried killing people on the streets of San Diego. SWAT unit stopped me with a tranquilizer dart. I was jailed and went to sleep on the cell bunk. “It’s never ending combat once I fall asleep,” I explained to them. | © Edward G. Gauthier |
理念 #12 | I woke today knowing I would lose my job. | © Danielle N. Gales |
理念 #13 | The shop was not much bigger than a cupboard. As a solution to this problem, the place had been filled with sturdy wooden shelves, leaving a little room for a counter and a workbench. People definitely didn’t come here for luxury, but The Fixer had never been about that anyway. Affordable repairs, that’s what it was for. Housewives from all over the neighborhood brought their broken vacuum cleaners, blenders, lamps and other household trinkets here. They didn’t care that the place was a dust pile, as long as they could exchange a couple of their green bills for their once again functioning devices. | © Martin Hooijmans |