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authorCase Duckworth2015-03-14 11:33:26 -0700
committerCase Duckworth2015-03-14 11:33:26 -0700
commit5685e1dba9b485939c833ba86f4e5c2e5e34453b (patch)
treef61602ba63e905e9bc7033ad06e790e7356e4dc6 /epigraph.html
parentMove test suite into its own folder (diff)
downloadautocento-5685e1dba9b485939c833ba86f4e5c2e5e34453b.tar.gz
autocento-5685e1dba9b485939c833ba86f4e5c2e5e34453b.zip
Mostly fix #11: Dedication/epigraph alignment
So the issue is solved in terms of how it looks, though
it adds a gross extra div into every page and uses :only-child,
which I don't think is super-supported. But it's the best I can
do that I know of until we get to better flexbox support.

Or you know, maybe later I can try doing some templating fixes--
injecting classes so that normally, .dedication is right-aligned
but when an epigraph is present, change the class to .dedication-left
or something. IDK. Either way is sort of ugly. :(
Diffstat (limited to 'epigraph.html')
-rw-r--r--epigraph.html6
1 files changed, 4 insertions, 2 deletions
diff --git a/epigraph.html b/epigraph.html index 87bae4a..a77a120 100644 --- a/epigraph.html +++ b/epigraph.html
@@ -34,8 +34,10 @@
34 <h1 class="title">epigraph</h1> 34 <h1 class="title">epigraph</h1>
35 35
36 36
37 37 <div class="header-extra">
38 </header> 38
39 </div>
40 </header>
39 41
40 42
41 <section class="content prose"><p>I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of <a href="spittle.html">other lovers</a> and queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to <a href="deathstrumpet.html">death</a>, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.</p></section> 43 <section class="content prose"><p>I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of <a href="spittle.html">other lovers</a> and queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to <a href="deathstrumpet.html">death</a>, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.</p></section>