Head_of_a_Text_File-1.sh

# In this challenge, we practice using the head command to display the first  lines of a text file.

# Display the first  lines of an input file.

# Input Format

# A text file.

# Output Format

# Output the first  lines of the given text file.

# Sample Input

# From fairest creatures we desire increase,
# That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
# But as the riper should by time decease,
# His tender heir might bear his memory:
# But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
# Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
# Making a famine where abundance lies,
# Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
# Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
# And only herald to the gaudy spring,
# Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
# And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding:
# Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
# To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
# When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
# And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
# Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
# Will be a tattered weed of small worth held:
# Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
# Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
# To say within thine own deep sunken eyes,
# Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
# How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
# If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
# Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse'
# Sample Output

# From fairest creatures we desire increase,
# That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
# But as the riper should by time decease,
# His tender heir might bear his memory:
# But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
# Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
# Making a famine where abundance lies,
# Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
# Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
# And only herald to the gaudy spring,
# Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
# And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding:
# Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
# To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
# When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
# And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
# Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
# Will be a tattered weed of small worth held:
# Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
# Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
 # From fairest creatures we desire increase,
# That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
# But as the riper should by time decease,
# His tender heir might bear his memory:
# But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
# Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
# Making a famine where abundance lies,
# Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
# Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
# And only herald to the gaudy spring,
# Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
# And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding:
# Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
# To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
# When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
# And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
# Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
# Will be a tattered weed of small worth held:
# Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
# Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;




head -n 20