Dodgy sizing issue with Google Fonts – HTML & CSS – SitePoint Forums

Paul, everyone. Ok, before I jump my bones, no, I didn’t put away the code below and that’s because I couldn’t get the engine to stop and refrain from modifying the data online style that I have to maintain. When I couldn’t get his silly engine to stop ruthlessly renaming styles, I spent a whole day trying manually to lay out the document in the format I know you professionals are most comfortable with and every fucking time I edited anything it broke the page. I can’t ask the engine to rewrite my styles or create new ones (how do people put up with this guy?). There was a site hosted by the original Tidy guy and he was awesome! It added absolutely nothing to your page; the only thing it did was cascading indentation – and if you wanted it, it would offer to lowercase your styles which were not case sensitive (ID). He added nothinghe withdrew nothing. So – temporary guys, just temporary. I can only take part of it before my brain explodes. The code below validates.

I had so many people complaining about my “overuse” of placeholder text in Latin that I decided to try something a little different: Shakespeare.

This is my first time trying this. At first I was going to go Will Lite and stick to his most popular quotes (Brevity is the soul of wit; My Horse My Horse, my Kingdom ~ etc.) but the problem is. . . I love Shakespeare so much it’s impossible to just snack when the man is second to none banquet for best writing in English already. This will more than satisfy our need to arrive at a viewport design. And I can use it again.

The other thing I upload is a small graphical representation of the box that used to be Style FIVE and is now rebranded THREE. It’s hard to explain, so refer to the graphic: THREE must sit at the base of the RNDBDR2‘s border-radius container frame’s LOWER OUTER EDGE whenever the content of COLUMN-A is insufficient to place it there coincidently. In other words: the baseline. There can be a little or a lot of data in COLUMN-A – this anchors THREE when there isn’t enough data to push it on its own.

If you can get me there in general, I should be able to tweak the pixels to make it perfect. See my graph to understand precisely what I mean. If the data in COLUMN-A is really full, THREE can hang lower – much lower if necessary – than the full height of RNDBDR1. Its good. A short COLUMN-B is not the problem; a short COLUMN-A is. And both RNDBDRs are Flexboxes so it should be the kind of easy coding that Flex was designed for. THREE needs a top margin of 70 pixels at all times. Like I said, take me out there in general and I’ll have fun with the pixels to make it perfect. —s



VIEWPORT 99 ᰄ semicodin

“Come, you spirits that tend on
“Cry ‘havoc!
“But, soft! What light through
yonder window breaks?
It is the east,
and Juliet is the sun.”
let slip the dogs of war
“We are such stuff
as dreams are made on,
and our little life
is rounded with a sleep.”
“Methought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,’ the innocent sleep, sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleeve of care, the death of each day’s life . . . ”
mortal thoughts, unsex me here . . .”
“Till then sit still, my soul:
foul deeds will rise,
though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.”
“O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell,
and count myself a king of infinite space,
were it not that I have bad dreams.”
“Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good that I myself have done unto myself? O, no! alas, I rather hate myself for hateful deeds committed by myself!
I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, and every tongue brings in a several tale, and every tale condemns me for a villain.
“As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.”
“If you prick us, do we not bleed? . . . If you poison us, do we not DIE?
“I, that am rudely stamp’d, deformed, unfinish’d, scarce half made up”
“What – you dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone and do the murder.”
“You taught me language; and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!”
“The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!”
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes . . .
When shall we three
meet again?
In thunder, lightning,
or in rain?
When the hurly-burly’s
When the battle’s
lost and won.
That will be ere
the set of sun.
Where the place?
Upon the heath.
There to meet with
Fair is foul,
and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog
and filthy air.
and to-morrow,
and to-morrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more:
It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.”
“To be, or not to be: that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream, ay, there’s the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil . . .”
the brinded cat hath mew’d.
Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries ’tis time, ’tis time.
Round about the cauldron go; in the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone days and nights has thirty-one swelter’d venom sleeping got, boil thou first i’ the charmed pot. Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, witches’ mummy, maw and gulf  of the ravin’d salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark, liver of blaspheming jew, gall of goat, and slips of yew silver’d in the moon’s eclipse, nose of turk and tartar’s lips, finger of birth-strangled babe ditch-deliver’d by a drab, make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, for the ingredients of our cauldron. Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon’s blood, then the charm is firm and good.”
“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.”
“Now is the winter of our discontent.”
“Brevity is the soul of wit.”
“This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.”
“This above all: to thine own self be true.”

Harry L. Blanchard