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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Mark Twain

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!

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

“Then it is since I came by, and maybe you can help me. Did you come up by the path?”

 

Marget blushed crimson at hearing her uncle falsely and impudently charged with begging, especially from one he had always denounced as a fraud, and was going to speak, but remembered herself in time and held her peace.

 

I did not like to hear our race called sheep, and said I did not think they were.

 

The two servants brought supplies from the pantry, together with white wine and red—a bottle of each. The astrologer, who very likely had never seen such delicacies before, poured out a beaker of red wine, drank it off, poured another, then began to eat with a grand appetite.

 

The ass had not said anything as yet; he now began to throw doubts. He said there had never been anything as beautiful as this before, and probably wasn't now. He said that when it took a whole basketful of sesquipedalian adjectives to whoop up a thing of beauty, it was time for suspicion.

 

“Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!”

 

In the midst of his grief he began to be conscious of hilarious noises and shoutings, apparently but a block or two away.  The next moment there were several sharp raps at the door; John Canty ceased from snoring and said—

 

“They are for thee!—all of them, every one!—for thee and Nan and Bet—and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!”

 

“Cheer us and warm us with thy gracious rays, O flaming sun of sovereignty!”

 

The King heard the two pass out, talking; heard their footsteps die quickly away—then he was alone with a boding, brooding, awful silence.

 

“Yes, so it is. And you’ve got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood.”

 

“You bad!” and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. “Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you’re just old pie, ’long-side o’ what I am. Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance.”

 

A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the courtroom. Many men were moved, and many women’s compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said:

 

“That ain’t no bad notion, Tom!” said Huck with animation.

 

“Infernal impudence!” said a bystander; “wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon—didn’t expect any company.”

 

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