Sentence length.

Sentences are divided into short (10 words max); average (30 words max), long (60 words max); and super long ones.

Short sentences. "Jesus Christ! Look at her face!" — Surprise.

"Her eyes is closed!" — Astonishment.

"She likes it!" — Amazement.

"Nobody could take my picture doing that!" — Moral disgust.

"Them goddam white folks!" — Fascinated fear (R. Wright. The

Long Dream).

"Не struck his fist on the table. Hard" (S. Chaplin. The Watchers and the Watched).

Long sentences. “Yet at least he (Mucho) believed in the cars. Maybe to excess: how could he not, seeing people poorer than him come in, Negro, Mexican, cracker, a parade seven days a week, bringing the most Godawful of trade-ins: motorized, metal extensions of themselves, of their families and what their whole lives must be like, out there so naked for anybody, a stranger like himself, to look at, frame cockeyed, rusty underneathTiender repainted in a shade just off enough to depress the value, if not Mucho himself, inside smelling hope­lessly of children, supermarket booze, two, sometimes three genera­tions of cigarette smokers, or only of dust — and when the cars were swept out you had to look at the actual residue of these lives, and there was no way of telling what things had been truly refused (when so little he supposed came by that out of fear most of it had to be taken and kept) and what had simply (perhaps tragically) been lost: clipped coupons promising savings of 5 to 10 cents, trading stamps, pink flyers advertising specials at the markets, butts, tooth-shy combs, help-wanted ads, Yellow Pages torn from the phone book, rags of old underwear or dresses that were already period cos­tumes, for wiping your own breath off the inside of a windshield with so you could see whatever it was, a movie, a woman, or car you coveted, a cop who might pull you over just for drill, all the bits and pieces coated uniformly, like a salad of despair, in a gray dressing of ash, condensed exhaust, dust, body wastes — it made him sick to look, but he had to look” (T. Pynchon. The Crying of Lot 49).

«Пуант». The rhythm and pitch breakdown due to a sharp sentence length drop (observed when a long sentenced is neighbored by a very short one). The short sentence puts into shape the catharsis – the dénouement of the crisis depicted in the long one.

"When the shooting started, he had clapped this helmet on his head so hard it banged his head as though he had been hit with a casserole and, in the last lung-aching, leg-dead, mouth-dry, bullet-spatting, bullet-cracking, bullet-singing run up the final slope of the hill after his horse was killed, the helmet had seemed to weigh a great amount and to ring his bursting forehead with an iron band. But he had kept it" (E. Hemingway. For Whom the Bell Tolls).