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Universal Dependencies - English - LinES

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Corpus Partdev

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s-103 About changing the properties of several controls at once
s-104 You can change property settings for a group of controls of the same type or for a group of controls of different types.
s-105 If you select controls of different types, Microsoft Access displays only the properties that are shared by the group in the property sheet.
s-106 If all the controls that you've selected share the same property setting, that setting appears in the property sheet; otherwise, that property box is blank.
s-107 If you change the property setting, the change is applied to all selected controls.
s-108 To select several controls at once in a data access page, you must have Microsoft Internet Explorer 5.5 installed on your computer.
s-109 In a form or report, the Name property never appears when more than one control is selected because control names must be unique.
s-110 About grouping data in PivotTable and PivotChart view
s-111 Grouping on intervals in PivotTable and PivotChart view
s-112 You can group items by specifying the type of interval and the size of the interval.
s-113 For example, you can group a field with date values into different months, and specify the interval as 2, to create groups such as Jan-Feb, Mar-Apr, and so on.
s-114 The type of interval you can specify for a field depends on the data type of the field.
s-115 Numeric fields
s-116 You can group in intervals of any integer, such as 1, 2, 5, 100, and so on. For example, you can group the EmployeeID field into groups of 1-100, 101-200, and so on.
s-117 Date and time fields
s-118 You can group in intervals such as days, weeks, and quarters.
s-119 For example, you can group the values in the ShippedDate field into months to show data for orders shipped in January, orders shipped in February, and so on.
s-120 He wondered if the young Auster had been any better at it than he was.
s-121 Across the way, occupying the greater part of the station's east wall, was the Kodak display photograph, with its bright unearthly colors.
s-122 The scene that month showed a street in some New England fishing village, perhaps Nantucket.
s-123 A beautiful spring light shone on the cobblestones, flowers of many colors stood in window boxes along the house fronts, and far down at the end of the street was the ocean, with its white waves and blue, blue water.
s-124 Quinn remembered visiting Nantucket with his wife long ago, in her first month of pregnancy, when his son was no more than a tiny almond in her belly.
s-125 He found it painful to think of that now, and he tried to suppress the pictures that were forming in his head.
s-126 Look at it through Auster's eyes, he said to himself, and don't think of anything else.
s-127 He turned his attention to the photograph again and was relieved to find his thoughts wandering to the subject of whales, to the expeditions that had set out from Nantucket in the last century, to Melville and the opening pages of Moby Dick.
s-128 From there his mind drifted off to the accounts he had read of Melville's last years the taciturn old man working in the New York customs house, with no readers, forgotten by everyone.
s-129 Then, suddenly, with great clarity and precision, he saw Bartleby's window and the blank brick wall before him.
s-130 Someone tapped him on the arm, and as Quinn wheeled to meet the assault, he saw a short, silent man holding out a green and red ballpoint pen to him.
s-131 Stapled to the pen was a little white paper flag, one side of which read: This good article is the Courtesy of a DEAF MUTE.
s-132 Pay any price.
s-133 Thank you for your help.
s-134 On the other side of the flag there was a chart of the manual alphabet LEARN TO SPEAK TO YOUR FRIENDS that showed the hand positions for each of the twenty-six letters.
s-135 Quinn reached into his pocket and gave the man a dollar.
s-136 The deaf mute nodded once very briefly and then moved on, leaving Quinn with the pen in his hand.
s-137 It was now past five o'clock.
s-138 Quinn decided he would be less vulnerable in another spot and removed himself to the waiting room.
s-139 This was generally a grim place, filled with dust and people with nowhere to go, but now, with the rush hour at full force, it had been taken over by men and women with briefcases, books, and newspapers.
s-140 Quinn had trouble finding a seat.
s-141 After searching for two or three minutes, he finally found a place on one of the benches, wedging himself between a man in a blue suit and a plump young woman.
s-142 The man was reading the sports section of the Times, and Quinn glanced over to read the account of Mets' loss the night before.
s-143 He had made it to the third or fourth paragraph when the man turned slowly toward him, gave him a vicious stare, and jerked the paper out of view.
s-144 After that, a strange thing happened.
s-145 Quinn turned his attention to the young woman on his right, to see if there was any reading material in that direction.
s-146 Quinn guessed her age at around twenty.
s-147 There were several pimples on her left cheek, obscured by a pimpish smear of pancake makeup, and a wad of chewing gum was crackling in her mouth.
s-148 She was, however, reading a book, a paperback with a lurid cover, and Quinn leaned over ever so slightly to his right to catch a glimpse of the title.
s-149 Against all his expectations, it was a book he himself had written Suicide Squeeze by William Wilson, the first of the Max Work novels.
s-150 Quinn had often imagined this situation: the sudden, unexpected pleasure of encountering one of his readers.
s-151 He had even imagined the conversation that would follow: he, suavely diffident as the stranger praised the book, and then, with great reluctance and modesty, agreeing to autograph the title page, since you insist.
s-152 But now that the scene was taking place, he felt quite disappointed, even angry.
s-153 He did not like the girl sitting next to him, and it offended him that she should be casually skimming the pages that had cost him so much effort.
s-154 His impulse was to tear the book out of her hands and run across the station with it.
s-155 He looked at her face again, trying to hear the words she was sounding out in her head, watching her eyes as they darted back and forth across the page.
s-156 He must have been looking too hard, for a moment later she turned to him with an irritated expression on her face and said, You got a problem, mister?
s-157 Quinn smiled weakly. No problem, he said.
s-158 I was just wondering if you liked the book.
s-159 The girl shrugged. I've read better and I've read worse.
s-160 Quinn wanted to drop the conversation right there, but something in him persisted.
s-161 Before he could get up and leave, the words were already out of his mouth. Do you find it exciting?
s-162 The girl shrugged again and cracked her gum loudly. Sort of. There's a part where the detective gets lost that's kind of scary.
s-163 Is he a smart detective?
s-164 Yeah, he's smart. But he talks too much.
s-165 You'd like more action?
s-166 I guess so.
s-167 If you don't like it, why do you go on reading?
s-168 I don't know. The girl shrugged once again.
s-169 It passes the time, I guess.
s-170 Anyway, it's no big deal. It's just a book.
s-171 He was about to tell her who he was, but then he realized that it made no difference.
s-172 The girl was beyond hope.
s-173 For five years he had kept William Wilson's identity a secret, and he wasn't about to give it away now, least of all to an imbecile stranger.
s-174 Still, it was painful, and he struggled desperately to swallow his pride.
s-175 Rather than punch the girl in the face, he abruptly stood up from his seat and walked away.
s-176 At six-thirty he posted himself in front of gate twenty-four.
s-177 The train was due to arrive in time, and from his vantage in the center of the doorway, Quinn judged that his chances of seeing Stillman were good.
s-178 He took out the photograph from his pocket and studied it again,
s-179 paying special attention to the eyes.
s-180 He remembered having read somewhere that the eyes were the one feature of the face that never changed.
s-181 From childhood to old age they remained the same, and a man with the head to see it could theoretically look into the eyes of a boy in a photograph and recognize the same person as an old man.
s-182 Quinn had his doubts, but this was all he had to go on, his only bridge to the present.
s-183 Once again, however, Stillman's face told him nothing.
s-184 The train pulled into the station, and Quinn felt the noise of it shoot through his body: a random, hectic din that seemed to join with his pulse, pumping his blood in raucous spurts.
s-185 His head then filled with Peter Stillman's voice, as a barrage of nonsense words clattered against the walls of his skull.
s-186 He told himself to stay calm.
s-187 But that did little good. In spite of what he had been expecting of himself at this moment, he was excited.
s-188 The train was crowded, and as the passengers started filling the ramp and walking toward him, they quickly became a mob.
s-189 Quinn flapped the red notebook nervously against his right thigh, stood on his tiptoes, and peered into the throng.
s-190 Soon the people were surging around him.
s-191 There were men and women, children and old people, teenagers and babies, rich people and poor people, black men and white women, white men and black women, Orientals and Arabs, men in brown and gray and blue and green, women in red and white and yellow and pink, children in sneakers, children in shoes, children in cowboy boots, fat people and thin people, tall people and short people, each one different from all the others, each one irreducibly himself.
s-192 Quinn watched them all, anchored to his spot, as if his whole being had been exiled to his eyes.
s-193 Each time an elderly man approached, he braced himself for it to be Stillman.
s-194 They came and went too quickly for him to indulge in disappointment, but in each old face he seemed to find an augur of what the real Stillman would be like, and he rapidly shifted his expectations with each new face, as if the accumulation of old men was heralding the imminent arrival of Stillman himself.
s-195 For one brief instant Quinn thought, So this is what detective work is like. But other than that he thought nothing.
s-196 He watched.
s-197 Immobile among the moving crowd, he stood there and watched.
s-198 The next morning, and for many mornings to follow, Quinn posted himself on a bench in the middle of the traffic island at Broadway and 99th Street.
s-199 I wish it was. But this has nothing to do with literature.
s-200 With what, then?
s-201 Quinn paused, looked around the room without seeing anything, and tried to start.
s-202 I've a feeling there's been a terrible mistake.

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