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Do the independent stylistic analysis of the following texts.

1.

Then came to his mind the memory of a quaint scene in the Soudan. A soldier had been nearly hacked in two by a broad-bladed Arab spear. For one instant the man felt no pain. Looking down, he saw that his life-blood was going from him. The stupid bewilderment on his face was so intensely comic that both Dick and Torpenhow, still panting and unstrung from a fight for life, had roared with laughter, in which the man seemed as if he would join, but, as his lips parted in a sheepish grin, the agony of death came upon him, and he pitched^* grunting at their feet. Dick laughed again, remembering the horror.

R. Kipling

2.

The introduction of the notion of prototype into the categorization literature by Rosch and colleagues was a revolution. The basic idea was that a concept, for example, bird was not defined by a set of necessary and sufficient features – with all members that met the criteria being equals – but rather that the concept had a graded structure, with fuzzy boundaries, in which some members played a privileged role.

P. Ibbotson, M. Tomasells

3.

Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour – landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one’s hair! Shot out at the feet of God entirely naked! Tumbling head over heels in the asphodel meadows like brown paper parcels pitched down a shoot in the post office! With one’s hair flying back like the tail of a race-horse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard…

V. Wolf

4.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill

(driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odours plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

Percy B. Shelley

5.

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,

Before high-piled books, in character,

Hold like rich garners the full-ripened grain;

When I behold, upon the night’s starred face

Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to trace

Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!

That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the faery power

Of unreflecting love! – then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

J. Keats

6.

Credo

Goals are funnels

with walls that narrow

and finally at the neck –

the achievement –

a guillotine.

Better than goals are dreams

that can never be attained,

only lived.

Or dreamed.

Sc. Baxter

7.

To contemplation’s sober eye

Such is the race of man:

And they that creep, and they that fly,

Shall end where they began.

Alike the busy and the gay

But flutter thro’ life’s little day,

In fortune’s varying colours drest:

Brushed by the hand of rough mischance,

Or chilled by age, their airy dance

They leave, in dust to rest.

T. Gray

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