Amount of texts to »hand« 14, and there are 11 texts (78.57%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3)
Average lenght of texts 234 Characters
Average Rating 7.714 points, 1 Not rated texts
First text on Jul 26th 2003, 18:22:08 wrote
zickzackman about hand
Latest text on Dec 12th 2023, 14:01:04 wrote
schmidt, matthias about hand
Some texts that have not been rated at all
(overall: 1)

on Dec 12th 2023, 14:01:04 wrote
schmidt, matthias about hand

Random associativity, rated above-average positively

Texts to »Hand«

Sonja wrote on Jan 2nd 2008, 13:24:25 about

hand

Rating: 8 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

I miss the keyword »shorthand« which nowadays generally seems obsolete allthough it still mustn't be unrecognised. I learned shorthand in the business academy and we had to take down the whole lessons stenographic. We had to transcribe the whole stenogramms into the exercise books which were extremely strict controlled by the professors.

A.E. wrote on Apr 30th 2004, 11:20:29 about

hand

Rating: 30 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

AS through the wild green hills of Wyre
The train ran, changing sky and shire,
And far behind, a fading crest,
Low in the forsaken west
Sank the high-reared head of Clee,
My hand lay empty on my knee.
Aching on my knee it lay:
That morning half a shire away
So many an honest fellows fist
Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist.
Hand, said I, since now we part
From fields and men we know by heart,
For strangersfaces, strangerslands,—
Hand, you have held true fellowshands.
Be clean then; rot before you do
A thing they’d not believe of you.
You and I must keep from shame
In London streets the Shropshire name;
On banks of Thames they must not say
Severn breeds worse men than they;
And friends abroad must bear in mind
Friends at home they leave behind.
Oh, I shall be stiff and cold
When I forget you, hearts of gold;
The land where I shall mind you not
Is the land where alls forgot.
And if my foot returns no more
To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore,
Luck, my lads, be with you still
By falling stream and standing hill,
By chiming tower and whispering tree,
Men that made a man of me.
About your work in town and farm
Still you’ll keep my head from harm,
Still you’ll help me, hands that gave
A grasp to friend me to the grave.

A.E.Housman

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