He glanced rapidly at Campbell with an immeasurable errant air, black eyes magnified, bitter blue, grey to him.
PROMPT: let your heart rule your head
“Let your heart rule your head, Mr. Harrison.”
He glanced rapidly at Campbell with an immeasurable errant air, black eyes magnified, bitter blue, grey to him. The whole situation grew more dangerous as Mann continued to convey across to Campbell all the revisions of his confessions. Anibal never took a second look at him, and I understood this to be to him the only sign of Bradley’s growing nervous state. Only slowly, slowly, Mann settled into a more orthodox silence.
Then Bradley and I could hear Mann rising. There were noises of a kind reserved in the strict sense of the word unserenity. All the way to the transept of the landing, it seemed, people moved and pulled their own garments and moved and pulled. He is acting hysterically, I said, even in the thick of the compound, makes signs against himself like a King in the wake of some act of God. I could see him circling around, head out, looking down sideways; he is trying to get through, holding the door open but making swerving, homing cuts. This is no cure for the strain of tension. Pronouncing a sharp word now, a set of idea, what have I told my Godfather about Alexander the Great? There is something wrong with God’s eye for seeing things, for giving God’s gifts and raps on the head, this is unnecessary insult to the Gift, He has been given already and must accept that this earthly life is not the Road of Force, as sacred students are taught. The leers started falling off again. But he is sending boats down and perhaps we shall see some salvation. What if he wanted me to know, in his wisdom, that Earth is unbent for distance and unending motion?
What if he really was mad?
When a soldier came to the door I got down and hid myself in the kitchen. I heard a rough soldier’s thump behind me. My heart blew like the opening of a gavel. I brought the dog out. He fought silently but bitterly the dog’s furious eyes. I heard the near shock of a dog not just trying to do no harm, but striking so sharply at the fence. I stood back and stood against the wall. I suddenly did not think that this temple, my temple, was a proper one. That the counterpane of the stable was more solid than what was shown here, i.e. to be.
Written by AI, using my multi-temp script, and using my postmodern fiction model, which is a fine-tuning of gpt-2 774M at around 300,000 iterations currently. Chosen from among the other recently generated stories by me, a human.
“let your heart rule your head”
Came from one of these places, which the script chose at random from a list of phrases:
Capitalized first letter. Replaced all names with a new randomly generated cast. Added quotation marks and line returns for formatting. Added period at the end.
Title was human-derived by me from the generated text
Plagiarism checked with Plagiarism-Basic against the dataset
"prefix": "let your heart rule your head",