Mother Of Learning Epub

[Kimbery Challacombe]

Im using In-Design CS 6 (only version I have access to) and when importing a PDF into in-design and then exporting as an Epub file, some of the photos are displaying with horizontal white lines through them. In In-design everything looks fine but on export it's not.

As for the lines, I still think they're stitching artifacts from being flattened. And again, the print size and screen size are totally irrelevant. All you've done here is create a picture of your page. The readers will not be able to change the font, the font size or anything else.

Because I'm trying to convert a PDF to an epub format and this was the easiest method I could find to do it. The original Document is a word file and it's got loads of photos in it so I don't want to lose the formatting etc. I tried importing the word doc to in-design but it didn't work well. I suppose I could leave it as a PDF but I'm unsure if that will display as well on an e-reader as the PDF is originally 8.5 x 11"

You're going to have to indulge me but what exactly are you trying to achieve here? Why not just distribute PDFs? What you're doing here is not going to improve the reader experience and in fact, will likely make it worse.

Ok So I'm trying to make a digital copy of the book for posting on Amazon. I was under the impression that they had to be in epub and mobi format in order for people to be able to view it on their e-reader or other device as a digital book. If they don't then sure I'll leave it as a PDF. Would I need to adjust the page size of the PDF though so it's readable on an e-reader screen? I'd imagine that if it's an 8.5 x 11" PDF and they're viewing it on a 7" screen that the font would be too small to read when the pdf is fit to the page.

Okay? That's fair that I'm no expert in creating digital books, I wouldn't even call myself an amateur (I'm just doing this to help my mother) but the paper size of a PDF would determine the resolution of the file and hence the scale that it displays at on a smaller screen. I'm not wrong in saying that when the PDF is set to 8.5 x11" that the font will be too small to view on a 7" device. When you create the file inside word or in-design, they use paper size to determine the scale/resolution. I'm not computer illiterate, I'm a video game designer. I've just never used In-Design before nor have I made a digital book. And I know you're not meaning offence but telling me I'm a noob doesn't help much. If I had the money to hire someone else or upgrade the software and buy the lynda tutorial I would but unfortunately I don't.

This is all still a little off topic from my original issue which is the fact that the images are getting lines through them on export and that doesn't make sense. They look fine in In-Design and the photos are all 300DPI at 6000x4000 resolution. Is this just In-Design scaling the images incorrectly? I could probably scale them all in Photoshop down to a lower res and export a new PDF.

Why would there be any transparency in the images though? They're jpegs that don't even support transparency. So confused. Anyway I am taking your advice. I didn't even know Amazon would do the conversion for you so definitely going with that route. Thanks Bob!

I would hate to tell you what this lousy little book cost me in money and anxiety and time. When I got home from the Second World War twenty-three years ago, I thought it would be easy for me to write about the destruction of Dresden, since all I would have to do would be to report what I had seen. And I thought, too, that it would be a masterpiece or at least make me a lot of money, since the subject was so big.

But not many words about Dresden came from my mind then-not enough of them to make a book, anyway. And not many words come now, either, when I have become an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls, with his sons full grown. I think of how useless the Dresden -part of my memory has been, and yet how tempting Dresden has been to write about, and I am reminded of the famous limerick:

I had the Bell Telephone Company find him for me. They are wonderful that way. I have this, disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with a breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.

As a trafficker in climaxes and thrills and characterization and wonderful dialogue and suspense and confrontations, I had outlined the Dresden story many times. The best outline I ever made, or anyway the prettiest one, was on the back of a roll of wallpaper.

The end, where all the lines stopped, was a beetfield on the Elbe, outside of Halle. The rain was coming down. The war in Europe had been over for a couple of weeks. We were formed in ranks, with Russian soldiers guarding us-Englishmen, Americans, Dutchmen, Belgians, Frenchmen, Canadians, South Africans, New Zealanders, Australians, thousands of us about to stop being prisoners of war.

An idiotic Englishman, who had lost all his teeth somewhere had his souvenir in a canvas bag. The bag was resting on my insteps. He would peek into the bag every now and then, and he would roll his eyes and swivel his scrawny neck,, trying to catch people looking covetously at his bag. And he would bounce the bag on my insteps.

I thought this bouncing was accidental. But I was mistaken. He had to show somebody what was in the bag, and he had decided he could trust me. He caught my eye, winked, opened the bag. There was a plaster model of the Eiffel Tower in there. It was painted gold. It had a clock in it.

And we were flown to a rest camp in France, where we were fed chocolate malted milkshakes and other rich foods until we were all covered with baby fat. Then we were sent home, and I married a pretty girl who was covered with baby fat, too.

I think about my education sometimes. I went to the University of Chicago for a while after the Second World War. I was a student in the Department of Anthropology. At that time, they were teaching that there was absolutely no difference between anybody. They may be teaching that still.

While I was studying to be an anthropologist, I was also working as a police reporter for the famous Chicago City News Bureau for twenty-eight dollars a week. One time they switched me from the night shift to the day shift., so I worked sixteen hours straight. We were supported by all the newspapers in town, and the AP and the UP and all that. And we would cover the courts and the police stations and the Fire Department and the Coast Guard out on Lake Michigan and all that. We were connected to the institutions that supported us by means of pneumatic tubes which ran under the streets of Chicago.

And the first story I covered I had to dictate over the telephone to one of those beastly girls. It was about a young veteran who had taken a job running an old-fashioned elevator in an office building. The elevator door on the first floor was ornamental iron lace. Iron ivy snaked in and out of the holes. There was an iron twig with two iron lovebirds perched upon it.

This veteran decided to take his car into the basement, and he closed the door and started down, but his wedding ring Was caught in all the ornaments. So he was hoisted into the air and the floor of the car went down, dropped out from under him, and the top of the car squashed him. So it goes.

I happened to tell a University of Chicago professor at a cocktail party about the raid as I had seen it, about the book I would write. He was a member of a thing called The Committee on Social Thought. And he told me about the concentration camps, and about how the Germans had made soap and candles out of the fat of dead Jews and so on.

The Second World War had certainly made everybody very tough. And I became a public relations man for General Electric in Schenectady, New York, and a volunteer fireman in the Village of Alplaus, where I bought my first home. My boss there was one of the toughest guys I ever hope to meet. He had been a lieutenant colonel in public relations in Baltimore. While I was in Schenectady he joined the Dutch Reformed Church, which is a very tough church, indeed.

I wrote the Air Force back then, asking for details about the raid on Dresden, who ordered it, how many planes did it, why they did it, what desirable results there had been and so on. I was answered by a man who, like myself, was in public relations. He said that he was sorry, but that the information was top secret still.

I took two little girls with me, my daughter, Nanny, and her best friend, Allison Mitchell. They had never been off Cape Cod before. When we saw a river, we had to stop so they could stand by it and think about it for a while. They had never seen water in that long and narrow, unsalted form before. The river was the Hudson. There were carp in there and we saw them. They were as big as atomic submarines.

That was about it for memories, and Mary was still making noise. She finally came out in the kitchen again for another Coke. She took another tray of ice cubes from the refrigerator, banged it in the sink, even though there was already plenty of ice out.

History in her solemn page informs us that the Crusaders were but ignorant and savage men, that their motives were those of bigotry unmitigated, and that their pathway was one of blood and rears. Romance, on the other hand, dilates upon their piety and heroism, and portrays, in her most glowing and impassioned hues, their virtue and magnanimity, the imperishable honor they acquired for themselves, and the great services they rendered to Christianity.

3a8082e126