Synthesis Essay On Between Two Worlds

Synthesis Essay On Between Two Worlds
Eggla Mason
Audrey Ostendorf
ENG 101, Writing I
7 September 2015
Between Two Worlds
I stand at the edge of the world donde la tierra se une con el mar
The crisp tropical air is sweet with the scent of salt y el cálido viento susurra entre las palmeras
whom dance and sway to the rhythm of the sea envuelto en el abrazo del sol
My eyes study the shimmering ocean surface la manera en que la luz del sol parpadea como las
estrellas en el cielo de la noche and far into the horizon the boundaries between sky and sea is lost y
los dos se funden para convertirse en un interminable azul profundo
Behind me, above the sounds of the ocean, the distant sounds of murmuring vehicles
Camino, de vuelta hacia la fuente del sonido
Powdery ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
My natural creativity and talents flourished and grew, nurtured by the encouragement of my family
and the inspiration I found growing up between ambivalent cultures. The life I came to live can be
described in the Spanish phrase "Pura Vida" a pure life, to live a peaceful, simple, uncluttered life
with a deep appreciation for nature, family and friends; "a real living" that reflects your happiness,
well–being, conformity, and satisfaction. I grew surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean to the north and
the warm Caribbean sea to the south. Where my soul honors your soul and I honor the light, love,
truth, beauty and peace within you because it is also within me. It is through in sharing our stories
we are united, we are the same, and we become one. Dominican Republic is the pristine white sands
of its beaches, the magnificent natural beauty of an island that embraces its nature; Through
breathtaking mountain ranges, rivers and beaches, romantic waterfalls, and a open window to
explore ancient relics of centuries past of fascinating history in the country's museums. Dominican
Republic is it's cultural experiences, it's art, architecture, literature, it's music. You lose yourself to
its indigenous, primal, syncopated beat, its raw energy as it pulses through your veins, as hypnotized
and possessed by the ancient festive spirits of long ago your body moves gracefully and freely to the
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Chapter One : A Short Story
changed her mind and was returning. Stop that. She is not coming back. Rynna Hullvy had likely
sent a boy from town to gather wine for the next day's rituals. He was reaching for his third crescent
roll when Ser Allyn gestured to him from the doorway. Janto grabbed the roll and bid good evening
to his parents and Vesperi, pausing to consider whether he should leave her alone with them. But his
father had trusted her enough to let her act as a guest here, not a prisoner, so he felt confident
Vesperi would return that trust. She had not killed them yet, had she? She cut a bite of roasted turnip
as he stared, further proof she was trying to adjust. Ser Allyn tittered, so Janto followed him down
the hall. Maybe Serra had sent word, a note to ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Bring my father," Janto called to him. "Whatever he means, the king must know." Chapter 37
Vesperi Vesperi paced her room, impatient for . . . she did not know what. Certainly not a spoiled
prince who had forgotten her once his friends came calling. Not an imbecile who had beguiled her
into good behavior by cutting her ropes, who had claimed they had a shared destiny when no one
had wanted a connection with her before, who had ignored her the rest of the night. If her wrists had
not healed from the chaffing of rope, she would have thought herself dreaming in the dungeon.
Vesperi had pried the gossip out of a servant with an attractive braid of hair who never shut up. The
woman sounded more concerned than intrigued by it, and soon after she started talking, Vesperi had
wanted to clamp her mouth back shut with an iron claw. Bini, the woman was named. Knowing that
made Vesperi ill. She had never bothered to learn a servant's name before. Soon, I'll be offering to
empty my own chamber pot. Disgust shuddered through her. A familiar knock sounded four times in
quick succession. The prince was probably unaware he always knocked four times. So oblivious.
Her excitement rose though Vesperi would deny it. "Come in." She shouted permission because he
would wait if she didn't. Incredulous. "My lady." He was such a mess that she refrained from
cackling at his formal greeting. A forest green tunic hung slovenly off his shoulder, and his hair was
unbrushed or maybe mussed

Personal Narrative: The Start
Chapter One: The Start
My head was ringing. This can't be happening. There's just no possible way! Blood trickled down
my forehead. My heart beat what increasing with every breath. Why did this have to happen?
Why?? My head was beginning to pound. I closed my eyes, and began to remember what had
happened and what had gone so horribly wrong.
Mom was driving her red van away from Subway, where one of my sisters worked, and was on her
way to Kwik Shop. She was talking, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was too
preoccupied with listening to my music. The van stopped. I looked up and saw a red light. Mom
tapped my shoulder, before taking off my headphones.
"You weren't even listening to me, were you, Sarah?" She asked me, disappointment ... Show more
content on Helpwriting.net ...
The drinks hit the ground with a crash. The cold liquid hit me as I fell to the ground. My ears rang.
Blood was dripping off of my forehead. Screaming filled my ears. I heard my mom crying out to
me.
"SARAH!!!" Was all I heard as the world slowly slipped from my grasp. All of the light was fading
as I plummeted deep within my subconscious, the liquid darkness curling around me like an old
friend.
~~~TimeSkip~~~
I woke up in a hospital bed. The walls were painted a soft, faded lavender color. The floors had
white and gray tiles. The room had a cabinet and a TV. Currently, the TV was playing my favorite
mini series, Over the Garden Wall. I watched it for a few moments, smirking at the little mind–
boggling adventures Wirt, Beatrice, and Greg got themselves into. I smiled, before turning my head
to the window. It was near sunset, the clouds beginning to turn pinkish.
I saw that my mom was sitting in the chair next to my bed. She was sleeping. I sighed, before
leaning back and closing my eyes. I let sleep overtake me.
I woke up to my mother shaking me awake, as gently as she

A Short Story : The Story Of Miss Meela's Mothers
Miss Meela wailed underneath her broad brimmed hat as the pallbearers lowered the casket,
carrying her young kin. Just twenty four months of life before death came upon the home, leaving
nothing but remnants of sorrow and despair in the little village in Cascade. Her wide eyes a
bloodshot red welled up with salty tears as blankets of raw dirt covered the cream mahogany casket.
When the casket hit the soft soil at the bottom of the hole, her round face bore a sadness that no one
at the procession, not even her closest of kin can take away. One woman placed her hands gently on
Miss Meela's broad shoulders handing her a fresh tissue to soak up the tears from her swollen eyes.
After the burial, the weeping men and women gathered at the elegant two– story home of Mrs. Jones
which stood proudly at the foot of the shallow hill. She was Miss Meela's mother, a bold woman,
one of strength and grandeur. Her demeanour was fitting as she walked across the room with her
back straightened demanding in an arrogant tone for the attendees to respect her home. No one paid
much attention to her. Their worn faces and perched lips cringed in concern as eyes fixated on Miss
Meela. She sat and leaned her head back deep into the suede sofa in a dreamlike daze as though she
was separated from her astral body. She was a woman of thirty, buxom with a pretty face, full lips
and expressive eyes. Miss Meela was not her usual lively self and to anyone with a sensibility to her
current state, knew

A Good Scent From A Strange Mountain Analysis
From the first Americans who traversed the Bering land bridge to the Syrian refugees residing in our
country today, America maintains its reputation as a nation of immigrants. The majority of our
predecessors migrated here to fulfill the American dream– an opportunity to forge your fate and find
prosperity in a new land. America allows peasants the chance to discover riches and the hungry a
life of nourishment– however, for immigrants, there is a cost. Each opportunity presented gives
immigrants a choice– assimilate and prosper or stay true to your culture and perish. In A Good Scent
from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler, both Gabrielle and Kanh chose the former and
ended up with consequences neither anticipated. In The American Couple, Gabrielle is the epitome
of an immigrant surrendering their culture in favor of a more American lifestyle. From the first line
"My sister and I... with my husband" (Butler 155), we see Gabrielle sacrifice integral aspects of
herself to obtain her goal of becoming a "true" American, including relinquishing her name and
dignity to win even the slightest chance of making it to tryouts. The sacrifices she makes are not
only helpful but are mandatory for reaching her goal. The importance of her sacrifices become more
pronounced when it's shown she only succeeded in scoring a tryout after she changed her name from
"Tran Nam Thanh Gabrielle into Gabrielle Tran" (Butler 159). In other words, to win Americanizing
her name was crucial.

Summary Of ' The Lord Of Saving You ! '
soon spread throughout the settlement and men and women, along with their children, kept coming
in and out of the cabin, asking her what had happened and staring at her. They brought food and
clothes with them for her and Christopher. The Cleary 's had several large dogs inside that barked
continuously with each new visitor and kept sticking their nose into her face. Mrs. Cleary also
chattered away non–stop and was cooking everything she could in the house, all the while shouting
"Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord for saving you!" The smoky smell of the fire, the scent of meat that
was being cooked, all the noise, the prying strangers, and the barking dogs, was overwhelming.
When Mrs. Cleary tried to force Ina to eat some food all she could do was become nauseous. But
Mrs. Cleary continued to fuss away at Ina still trying to force her to eat. She kept pushing a spoon at
Ina saying "You must eat something dear....you must eat something....just try!" Christopher kept
crying and was unhappy at all strangeness and noise of the people and dogs around him too. One of
the visitors who came to see the woman who walked out of the wilds, was an elderly lady named
Mrs.Kenhart. She told the Clearys that all that commotion and attention wasn 't good for Ina or the
baby. Ina needed to go someplace more quiet and secluded. Mrs.Kenhart had helped most of them
regain their health when they had been sick at one time or another and they respected her advice.
Reluctantly the Clearys helped move

Palutena's Short Story: Medusa
The air was thick with the putrid scent of flowers, spring water, and...what Medusa could only
describe as purity. It was a hard place to find for a being such as her, but not impossible. She
wouldn't have come here on a subconscious level considering that she was Goddess of Darkness...or
rather formerly so. She had been stripped of most of her power, plopped down to the mortal world
and left to rot. Palutena thought she had everything figured out, maybe she did, but Medusa would
rather be destroyed once again rather than just surrender her life living as the shadow of her former
self. No, she wouldn't just roll over and Palutena would be a fool for thinking she would.
Except...she honestly had no idea why she was alive. She didn't have any memories of anything
except Hades destroying her, yet here she was. Perhaps she had survived through sheer force of will,
perhaps someone had taken pity on her...she didn't know. Quite frankly, she didn't care either, the
important part was that she had another chance at revenge. Pit was buzzing around like an annoying
fly and she had been giving him the slip for some time now, leaving the weaker monsters she could
... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
She started walking towards the waterfall, stepping on water as the scenery around her began to
change and twist into something that matched the blackness inside of he heart. Such darkness in a
place as pure as this would no doubt attract attention, but she no longer cared. She would awaken
this creature she had heard so much about, and he would help her with her conquest to become a
Goddess once more and rule the heavens. That was her right, that was her purpose. She would let
nothing stop her. Once again she disappeared, only to reappear at the very back of the ancient
temple. Now, to find a good vantage point and focus her magic on reawakening the demon king.
Somehow, she felt him being so close to the sacred realm, and she liked what she

Ask the Dust by John Fante
BookRags Literature Study Guide
Ask the Dust by John Fante
For the online version of BookRags' Ask the Dust Literature Study Guide, including complete
copyright information, please visit:
http://www.bookrags.com/studyguide–ask–the–dust/
Copyright Information
©2000–2012 BookRags, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The following sections of this BookRags Literature Study Guide is offprint from Gale's For Students
Series: Presenting Analysis, Context, and Criticism on Commonly Studied Works: Introduction,
Author Biography, Plot Summary, Characters, Themes, Style, Historical Context, Critical Overview,
Criticism and Critical Essays, Media Adaptations, Topics for Further Study, Compare & Contrast,
What Do I Read Next?, For Further Study, and ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Their mutual love and hatred for one another, and for themselves, provides an intensely dark
comedy that exposes their inner conflicts, their racial bigotry and their low self–esteem, as they
struggle to survive in a contrived culture to which neither will ever really belong.
John Fante's description of Los Angeles during the depression––of gaunt faces and lost humanity––
is haunting and riveting, as told through the eyes of a young man who is not altogether stable. The
smog, traffic, dust, grime and shallow lifestyles of southern California were already present in 1939,
making this story relevant still today. The earthquake scene in the story is just as realistic as it might
be today, complete with military intervention and the emergence of human kindness in the face of
disaster.
Camilla, Arturo, Sammy, Vera and Hellfrick are all non–entities in the bustle of L.A. culture, but all
are profoundly human in their suffering, confusion, and vices. All are battling a poor sense of self–
worth and struggling to survive in an indifferent world. Arturo Bandini takes us through this story in
intimate first–person, exposing us to his mood swings, his astute observations and his growth as an
author and a man.

In the Alta Loma Hotel in the Bunker Hill district of Los Angeles, writer Arturo Bandini's hotel
room window opens onto the ground level, a smog and sand–choked base of a palm tree as his view.
Arturo's train of thought

Analyzing Dante's 'The Divine Comedy'
Part 1 How does Dante use metaphors/allegories as mechanisms for articulating his vision of
Christian ethos? Consider how the work is structured and how punishment is meted out and his use
of contrapasso.
Durante degli Alighieri, usually referred to as Dante (1265–1321), was an Italian poet, moral
philosophers, and political thinker best known for his epic poem La divina commedia. Essentially,
The Divine Comedy describes Dante's journey through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise guided at first
by the Roman poet Virgil, and then by Beatrice, the subject of his undying love. In many ways,
though, the poem is both a literary story of a journey and a commentary about the political and
moral issues of the time; Christianity, royalty, privilege, class, and most certainly the concept of sin
and the Devil. Besides being a treatise on the socio–political climate of the time, Dante used the
concept of Hell and Satan to explain human imperfection and a way to see another organization
within the temporal world. Dante parodies the Trinity in the three parts of Satan, but also paints a
mythology that became truth for many, and certainly part and parcel of modern popular culture.
Satan in Dante's works is quite familiar to the mModern individual: demonic, able to possess a
human's free will, lizard like but able to pretend, a liar, thief of sould, and the archenemy of God and
all that is good in the universe (Anderson, 2010, 365–75).
As a poem, The Divine Comedy uses metaphors quite

Poems: City Planners
The Poems analysed are: The City Planners, Margaret Atwood and The Planners, Boey Kim Cheng.
These are taken from the IGCSE Cambridge Poetry Anthology, but may be interesting for unseen
poetry too. Question Set
How do these poets use language and structure to get across their theme?
I wrote this in about half an hour. Both poems are very similar, and have the same topic – City
Planning – as shown in their titles. Structurally, they are different though, and the tone differs in
places. I've marked headings for each paragraph to show, roughly, what each one is about, with
major areas in CAPS (see my post on STILTS as a way to compare poems)
This paragraph analyses: similarities in SUBJECT as shown in the title; similarities and ... Show
more content on Helpwriting.net ...
The cutting here is less abrupt and violent, though most lines are end–stopped or punctuated, giving
a tighter feeling of control than Atwood's frequent enjambement over lines and line–breaks. 'They'
seem faceless, powerful, focussed on the 'new' and 'tomorrow', in wiping out the old. They 'erase'
with 'dexterity', which could suggest hiding, or removing in a negative sense – as suggested by
words like 'amnesia'. Yet the poet seems to have some admiration for their planning as he describes
it with words like 'grace' and 'gold' and suggests they have control over the elements: 'the sea draws
back / and the skies surrender. This is a stainless, blank planning though, with no place for the
unusual, quirky or individual and the poet mourns this, quietly when he says that his heart would not
write 'poetry' for it (though this is ironic as he has, in fact, put it in a poem). Perhaps he is showing
that he does not feel a sincere love for it in his heart.
Summary
Margaret Atwood finds the identical houses of suburbia offending to the eye. There is nothing to set
one house apart from another. The houses look like clones of each other, even the trees are uniform
and the roads are so level, they seem to be rebuking the dent on their car. The houses seem soulless
and boring. They have been designed by unimaginative city planners who have no spark of
creativity. Silence pervades suburbia; the only intruding sound is of the lawn

The Human Girl
Upon his first glimpse of the human girl, Banni the dragon fell immediately in love. It didn 't matter
that the object of his infatuation was small and had no scales or claws. It didn 't matter that she
walked on two legs and possessed no wings at all. It didn 't even matter that she could not breathe
fire, which was a dragon 's pride and glory. To Banni, the human girl was the most beautiful creature
he had ever laid eyes on. Ever since he was a hatchling, Banni had been fascinated by humans. He
would always listen enthralled to the tales that his grandmother told about the tiny beings that had
none of a dragon 's strength but yet at times could be far more dangerous. No other dragon Banni
knew was so captivated by humans. To the other ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
On this certain occasion, Banni had ventured nearer to the village than he had ever done before. He
had been studying a human chopping wood when the girl emerged from a nearby dwelling. The girl
carried food, and the scent of freshly–cooked meat had caused Banni 's mouth to water. But the food
failed to captivate his attention for long. The only word that Banni could think of to describe the girl
was beautiful. Her skin was pale with a tinge of rose. Her eyes were a radiant aquamarine, but it was
her hair that entranced Banni and bestowed upon her an other–worldly appearance. Long and
lustrous, the girl 's hair was a fiery crimson, the same shade as Banni 's scales. In the sunlight, her
hair seemed to smolder and blaze like fire. The girl had given the food to the human who was
chopping wood. He then said something, causing her to tilt her head back and laugh. The girl 's
laugh had resonated like tinkling bells, warm and cheery. From then on, Banni 's heart was no longer
his. Banni embarked on more frequent trips to the village just for a glimpse of the girl. He was gone
so frequently that even his father, who was usually too preoccupied with his duties as clan leader,
began to notice his disappearances. One day, Banni was approached by his father, Cerbera. "My son,
I am very worried about you. Is there something wrong?" Banni feigned incomprehension. "No, of
course not. Why do you ask?" Cerbera stared at him, clearly not convinced. "I have been

Short Story
Chains rattled as Kalyssa lunged at Phenix. "Don't hurt him!"
She forgot about the restraints in her headlong rush forward, however, in her defense, her thoughts
were on Tung, not herself. Before Kalyssa could react and backpedal away from disaster, her head
snapped backward and her feet went out from under her.
She was falling.
In the silence between one heartbeat and the next, time slid to a crawl as the inevitable unfolded.
Teeth clenched, she waited for the hiss of air to rush forth from her mouth, listened for the
unmistakable sound of bone crunching against unforgiving rock and a wave of pain mushrooming
up and out at the point of impact.
Oof–a sharp stream of breath hissed from between her teeth and for a brief instant, she ... Show
As she lay compliant in his arms, it occurred to her that there was something nagging at her
thoughts, a sense that something was wrong. She should remember–something important. But the
irresistible draw of safety and tranquility was too potent to resist.
As a girl, Kalyssa desired many things from life, namely, a family who loved her, friends to share
girl–secrets with, birthday parties, laughter, dolls, and dreams. Oh, how the world had been a more
pleasant place back then, but after puberty, her hopes, and needs centered on the necessities to
survive–food, shelter, and clothing. For the world had turned harsh and dark, and in the darkness
lurked monsters, the creatures held sway over her nightmares. And now in her adult years, her
yearning tilted toward something she believed was forever out of her reach in spite of the best
efforts of the monks to include her in their brethren. The muscles in her chest cramped painfully; a
cruel hand ghosted through skin and flesh to grip her heart and squeeze the moment she
acknowledged what was missing in her life–a sense of belonging.
She had not belonged in her family and in her quietest moments when her internal world ruled by
the cool darkness of loneliness and the haunting grayness of isolation filled her every thought, a
dark voice whispered to her, no one wants you. You belong nowhere.
Weird as this

My First Day
I don't remember much about when I was a kid. One memory slips through the fog and caresses my
mind with the comforting aura that was once my childhood. It was my first day at Mrs. Joyce's
Daycare, little did I know that this place would forever hold a special place in my heart and in my
mind. On the way there, from my house in Terra Alta, it was about a 5–minute ride which was just
long enough to think about all the things that my little mind could think about. Namely how I was
going to get along with the other kids and whether I would make any friends. When I arrived at Mrs.
Joyce's I was terrified. As a child, I was always a momma's boy mainly due to the fact that my
parents were divorced and had been that way for as long as I could remember. I never wanted to be
with anyone else but my mother and my brother so this was a big step for me. Here I am going into
a strange place with strange people and spending an extended period of time away from my family.
As I am walking up the front steps I realize that this does not look like a daycare it looks more like
someone's home. Indeed, I was right, she transformed her home into a day care fit for children of my
age. As I walk into the living room I find Mrs. Joyce sitting in her chair with the other children
seated on the carpet in–front of her. I can remember almost to the exact detail the way she looked at
me when I walked through the doorway, caring and kind never a cross word or a sign of frustration.
I remember she spoke

Pockberry: A Short Story
CHAPTER NINE
Fairy Light Mixed With a Little Pockberry
We stood in the shadows of tall wax unicorn sculptures, looking up at their pointed black marble
horns. Underneath, each figure gold letters etched in brass: No Solicitors. No Dawdling and you
may not want to even think about breathing particularly on my flowers. Mason turned to me. "Okay.
You remember Plan B?" "Plan B," I gulped. "You never provided the details for Plan B." "Oh yeah.
Then we'll just have to wing it." "Right," I said, following him up a narrow path that wound around
a hill. At the top, I spotted a small cottage on a craggy cliff, overlooking the sea. Sunbeams bounced
off the water's surface far below, turning everything the color of honey. Mason's eyes narrowed.
"Hmm. It's beautiful, but ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Look, I know there's some kind of connection I could feel it when one of the centaur came to my
room." "Dude," Mason whispered. "Calm down." Seth was so startled he dropped his spoon,
squashing his pockberry dragon. "Wait, what? Your power to interpret the centaur's thoughts is truly
remarkable. Even your grandfather did not have a pure enough heart to exchange ideas with those
creatures. "Anyway," I continued. "We have to find the centaurs so we can save the Kingdom of
Sirethiel." Seth leaned toward me with a grin. Close up, I thought he looked ill. There were dark
shadows beneath his dark brown eyes and his skin was papery and withered like a carved apple that
had sat out in the sun too long. "Ah . . . of course, a quest. They're in a meadow beyond the
mountain." A little fairy dressed in flower petals, with auburn hair that fell in loose tendrils down her
back and wings like a butterfly, landed on his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of a mauve thistle
stuck in his lapel. She sat there for a moment, fading in and out. "Excellent," Seth said. "In the
morning, I can take you as far as the mountain. After that, you are on your own."
* *

Short Story Chapter 1
They swung so fast from branch to branch, Jerusho's gasps and pants disappeared entirely. One of
the twins called out every so often to confirm their direction. Janto's bones ached. With each new
grab, a pain spiked from his underarm to his elbow. They wouldn't be able to keep up this speed.
Nap's breathing was ragged, and he had appeared to be the fittest man in the group. Yet the
mysterious person leading them had no problem setting the pace. He even grinned back at them
between calls. In the middle of one such stare, he dropped straight down and out of sight. "Stop!"
Janto called. "He's on the ground!" He thanked Madel he need not reach for another limb before
hugging the trunk and working his way down. His grip had weakened since ... Show more content
on Helpwriting.net ...
"You? You are Sielban?" The Meditlan who had reached him first managed to raise his elbows,
casting a cursory glance toward Janto as he did. "It is an honor." The rest of the men repeated the
deference, but Sielban bid their arms lowered. "It is not my honor you seek here, but your own." His
tongue flicked out of his mouth as though a snake tasting the air. Sielban was more reptilian than
any Rasselerian Janto had seen. An endless volley of curses grew louder and louder, preceding
Jerusho who burst through a bramble bush. He stumbled to where the others gathered on the forest
floor, and held the packs out to the Meditlans. "Here, I'm here," was all Jerusho could manage,
scarcely noting their new companion. Sielban registered the last arrival with a cocked head, and
Janto swore their teacher's nose wiggled. "Good. All the little children are here." Then the man
sprang over the same bush Jerusho had trampled and disappeared. Janto leapt through only half a
second behind him. Chapter 10 Vesperi She woke to a shift of weight in her goose–down bed. The
faces of Lord Sellwyn's guards flipped through her mind, and she hoped for gentle Bellick rather
than rancid Lokas declaring her period of resistance over. It required a delicate balance, making the
men believe she respected their dominance while instilling a vague fear of what would happen if
they pushed her too far. Sometimes, the pendulum swung the other way. At least this man did

Duality In Romeo And Juliet And Jekyl And Hyde
Duality Essay In Romeo and Juliet and Jekyll and Hyde, a common theme is the idea of duality.
Good and Evil or, love and hate are prime examples that duality is used in the two literature classics.
In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare hints at that nature is the source of life and destruction, he talks
about duality most commonly in the line."In man as well as herbs,grace and rude will." This means
that humans, like plants, have good and evil in them. He uses the example of a plant that which can
be used for medicine, but it can also be used as a poison. In Jekyll and Hyde, Stevenson uses duality
on one's appearance and personality.Later in the book, Utterson goes to meet Hyde and is greeted by
his maid. She is described as having an "evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy" however her manners are
excellent. Good and evil is more commonly seen in Jekyll and Hyde. Duality is implied on
appearance and personality in the book. "I see you feel as I do," said Mr. Enfield. "Yes, it's a bad
story. For my man was a fellow that nobody could have to do with, a really damnable man; and the
person that drew the cheque is the very pink of the proprieties, celebrated too, and (what makes it
worse) one of your fellows who do what they call good. Blackmail I suppose; an honest man paying
through the nose for some of the capers of his youth. Black Mail House is what I call the place with
the door, in consequence. Though even that, you know, is far from explaining all," he added, and
with the words

Descriptive Essay : My Favorite Places To The Omaha Airport
One of my favorite places to be is the Omaha airport. I love the atmosphere it has, and the ease of
everything there. Your every move is planned out for you. The airport is surrounded by a sea of
shiny hot vehicles. The hot summer sun reflects off the windshields and headlights. People haul their
enormous bags up the endless rows of cars to the shuttle station that is filled by a variety of people:
business men and women, families, and students. They all patiently wait, baking in the heat, for the
next bus to carry them to the airport. After what seems like an eternity, they all trudge on and stand
tightly together like sardines. The faint smell of sweat clings to the air as the bus pulls forward. At
the airport, the air is quiet except for the sound of bags being tugged off the metal racks of the bus as
the people file out. The perfectly paved sidewalk and the creaky revolving doors are all flooded with
silent people. The only other sound is the sound of feet hitting the pavement until they get inside.
Then there is a mountain of chaos–crying babies, angry parents, yelling customers, and passive–
aggressive workers. Rows of robot–like workers peek out behind computer screens. There are men
with their hair gelled down seamlessly to their head, and women with flawless makeup and their
hair pulled back into buns. They all blandly ask for personal and flight information and baggage.
Then they impatiently explain the process to rookie flyers. The flow of people starts to make its

The Second Elegy
"Mirrors, which scoop up the beauty that has streamed from their face and gather it back, into
themselves, entire."
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
"The Second Elegy"
Chapter One
"Bad love is better than no love? Can't buy it. Don't want to buy it." Eve spoke in a clipped fashion
as she walked hurriedly along the downtown street with her longtime friend, Shirley. Both women
were of strong bearing and fierce countenance.
Eve was a single, auburn–haired, thirty–eight–year–old professor of esoteric studies at the
University of Aztlan. Men, far and wide and from all walks of life, described her as a bronze–
skinned, magical beauty, emotionally weathered but determined. Her life continuously hung in the
balance, an unnerving play ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Bad love is no love, Shirley–no love at all." Her blood pressure rose, heat and tingling along her
neck and ears. She needed to say more about Shirley's bullshit idea. She didn't want it stuck in her
head. Whatever she didn't speak up about stayed stuck, and kept going round and round, so she
didn't like it one bit when she let that infernal fly keep up its mental buzzing.
She couldn't stop herself. "Goddammit, Shirley. There's more to love than illusion. I'll clear through
the junk and find the real thing. If this thing is junk, I'm not going to ride it for the thrill. I need to
trash what's trash. Fantasies are just that, fantasies. I want what's real. Doesn't have to be perfect–
just real."
Eve was the softer of the two friends, but whenever Shirley got under her skin, she got fired up. She
couldn't let wrong–mindedness and messed–up thinking pass, wouldn't compromise principle. Eve
wouldn't stop herself from saying what she needed to say when she needed to say it, lest a twisted
notion keep itself hidden and locked away in Shirley's mind, and then spring up like a jack–in–the–
box nightmare, playing out a terrifying relational scenario because she didn't say no when she
needed

The Little Bird And The Wild Boar Essay
The Little Bird and The Wild Boars
A Fable
A Fable written for children and adults alike to provide the hope to discover our inner truth, to
follow innate intuition and to allow oneself this journey.
Children follow their inner impulses. As adults, as parents and as members of society we lose our
unbridled freedom to act from inner intuition and conform to external pressure.
To reach our true happiness we must fulfill our potential and find our inner meaning to arrive in our
self,
When this goal is achieved, it is not only felt at an individual level, society and the world sense this
as well.
How do we find ourselves?
How do we carry on when we cannot see a solution, a way forward?
Where do we find the confidence to embark on this journey? ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
But that doesn't matter you can stay anyway.''
The Little Bird jumped for joy. At long last it had found a welcoming place to stay. From that point
onward The Bear and The Little Bird lived in harmony and became to best of friends. The Little
Bird felt safe and secure, as no wild boar would ever dare to challenge a bear.
As time went on the little bird became restless and sensed an inner longing. And said: ''My dear
Bear, I am so grateful for all that you have given me, your protection and security. But something
still escapes me, who am I and why do I exist?''
The Bear looked lovingly at The Little Bird and said ''You are something wonderful, always hold
that knowledge in your heart.
Carry on with your journey and you will find what you are looking for.'' With that the little bird
presented the bear with one it's most glorious feathers, turned and left the cave.
The Tree
With sadness, The Little Bird began on its way, feeling its confidence grow as it followed the path
through the forest. Hopping down the wooded path, the little bird couldn't help but notice that many

Personal Narrative: My Sky In Santa Cruz
I was thinking about an item in my life that held great meaning, an object that was full of nostalgia,
and at first, I thought of my acoustic guitar, but I realized that my blanket was the right topic to
write about. It seems strange that something so simple could be so important, but it holds many
memories of my childhood, which felt like a sturdy subject for this write–up. My blanket has a
calming aroma that smells of flowers and fresh air, and that scent is what reminds me of the many
things I have been through. For example, there were many times when I struggled with challenges in
my life I would comfort myself by wrapping it around me.
I still remember getting the blanket at Costco, in Santa Cruz. Every time we went there it was a new
Interestingly enough, my dreams will generally be nightmares if I don't fall asleep with my blanket,
it's something I have discovered recently, even more so, I can't rest without it. About two years ago,
my middle school group was holding a winter camp: the event was only for three days, and there
was not much room in my suitcase for my blanket so I decided not to bring it. Every night was pure
nightmares and discomfort, the bed I slept in was comfortable, so were the blankets, and it wasn't
because of the cold, I love the cold, so it had to have been my loss of a comforting blanket. I thought
about that shortly after I arrived home, I eventually did an experiment to see if I really couldn't sleep
without it; I was shocked to find that I can't sleep at all without my blanket.
My blanket has been a real comforter (pun completely intended), I would say it is most definitely
one of the first things I would rate most important. I think it would be interesting to find out if any
of the other essays on "a special Object" were also about someone's childhood blanket. I don't still
don't fully understand what's so nostalgic about it, if it's the scent, the soft feel, the faded flower
pattern or if it is everything. As funny and hysterical as this sounds, all this thinking and writing
about my blanket has made me very

An Excerpt From 'Whoa': A Narrative Fiction
Minutes after the ambulance left, a hush crept through the saloon like a slow sewage leak. A rat ran
from the cantina's cramped bathroom and darted past the bar, its claws scratching across the heavily
scarred plank floor. The place had turned quiet as a graveyard on a windless night.
Medical personnel reported the injured man suffered from an ocular hemorrhage. His eye vessels
popped from acute hypertension caused by sudden fright. They couldn't detect signs of cuts from a
discharged shard. The blood on his palm had actually oozed from a gash on his hand. The rim of
steel along the barstool had a sharp edge.
Their explanation was that the man was drunk and panicked when he thought he saw his eye
bloodied in the mirror, the horrid legend inflicted ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Everyone in the cantina had returned to revelry and carousing. The bar hummed with hard–edged
and catchy tunes blasting out from the jukebox, blues numbers about hard drinking times and love
gained and lost.
Eve remained stunned. She tried to sort through the shock of who she was seated next to, a man both
cunning and genuine. He was edginess and bravado, sincerity and warmth. He scared her, an oasis
concealing a venomous Rio Grande rattlesnake.
The rest of the men bragged. They boasted about being lawyers, offices about two blocks to the
west, specialty criminal law. Suddenly, their look was not so much men on the prowl as professional
scavengers. They bragged about their legal conquests.
A big case had been spread across the front page of the local newspaper, the Aztlan Crier. No one in
town was unaware of the terrible doings of the defendant. The accused was loathed.
He had been indicted for verbally abusing then bludgeoning his wife to a bloody pulp of broken
bones and smeared gray matter. For the politico of significant means, the evidence was hard and
plentiful. He faced life in the infamous mid–twentieth century prison, Aztlan del Norte State
Maximum Security Penitentiary. The penitentiary had been built near the natural sandstone edifice
dubbed The Devil's Throne. It was a realm of insolent and psychically contorted beings, known for
extreme violence including beatings, rape, and

Essay on Walt Whitman's Song of Myself
Walt Whitman's Song of Myself
This paper deals with Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" in relation to Julia Kristeva's theories of
abjection––my paper does not point to abjection in the text, but rather the significance of the
abscence of abjection. This abscence, looming and revolting, arises from Whitman's attemt to
refigure a conception of sublimity which delimits the material which can trigger the sublime
moment. Whitman's democracy of the sublime is inclusive of those figures on the American
landscape, their lives and voices, which are functionalized into his world. This paper employs the
theories of George Lukacs and Julia Kristeva allow the unearthing of the archeological layers of
Whitman's text.
The most literal adjective ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
It lies there, quite close, but it cannot be assimilated. It beseeches, worries, and fascinates desire,
which, nevertheless, does not let itself be seduced."[1]
The strange elegance of this specter looms in the relief, in the archaic layers of Song of Myself. It is
beyond the foregrounded inversive space––at times utopic and sublime, the space is permeated with
universal brotherhood, happiness, the "compelled–sentimental"–– that I attempt to delve into, that
source from which generates the repulsive, hidden quivering of a text which, though cast out and
forced into absence, looms in the shadowed relief. The edification of his text and of his readership is
attempted through the construction of an inversive space which refigures the sublime: the apex of
the "cultured." I have chosen those moments in the text in which the poet nears the threshold of
bordering abject in order to construct his sublime utopian vision. It is here, this marked refigurement
where ecstasy occurs, where material which triggers the sublime is the signal of another text; a
repulsive reading looms from the absence of abjection
An invocation of the self begins Song of Myself, positioning the text as an edification of the
American readership: "I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what assume you shall assume, For
every atom belonging to me as god belongs to you" (lines 1–3). Thus Whitman's work joins with the

Lord Of The Flies Quotes
Setting: Quote: "Darkness poured out, submerging the ways between the trees till they were dim and
strange as the bottom of the sea. The candle buds opened their wide white flowers glimmering under
the light that pricked down from the first stars. Their scent spilled out into the air and took
possession of the island." (Chapter 3, Pg. 59) Response: The setting in this paragraph is peaceful and
mystifying. The words used to illustrate how the darkness fell over the jungle (poured, dim, strange)
allows the reader to visualize it happening calmly, while still keeping a mysterious air to it. The
comparison to the sea further highlights the mystery, as the sea to this day is still mostly unexplored
and unknown. Comparing this to the jungle makes ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
The quote makes it seem as though Ralph is losing hope, and is scared of losing control. His fear is
evident in the tone the quote is written in, with the pauses and upsetting outcomes he speaks of, such
as them losing their humanity and never being rescued from the island. This is the most scared
Ralph has been be in the book so far. The idea of someone as brave and optimistic as him losing
faith makes the fear even more evident, as it isn't something one would expect from Ralph. Though
it is just one statement, so much fear is evident in it, and really affects the atmosphere of the

Romanticism and Modernism as Strange Bedfellows: A Fresh...
Romanticism and Modernism as Strange Bedfellows: A Fresh Look of Jack Kerouac's
On the Road Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven! O time
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law and statute, took at once
The attraction of a Country in Romance! The Prelude–William Wordsworth
(Come in under the shadow of this rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening striding to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust. The Waste Land–T. S. Eliot On 2 April 1951, in a loft in
New York City, Jack Kerouac fed 120 feet of Japanese drawing paper into his typewriter, and for the
. . he created a new symbol of flaming American youth, the American hero of the Beat Generation"
(33). This same "flaming hero" was found in other facets of American culture, more specifically in
American cinema, with the likes of Marlon Brando and James Dean. However, even Moriarty's
flame would flicker at the conclusion of the novel where he is depicted as a gaunt figure in "a
motheaten overcoat" (306) without a car, walking alone in the frigid New York night.
The next subject is the west, the American symbol of autonomy and freedom. The west and its wild,
unbridled spirit have been celebrated as an American utopia in literature, lore, song and cinema.
Paradise states early on "the stars seemed to get brighter the more we climbed the High Plains. We
were in Wyoming. Flat on my back, I stared straight up at the magnificent firmament, glorying in
the time I was making" (30). Even the popular music of the time focused on the romantic concept of
moving west. In his essay, "Free Ways and Straight Roads," Lars Larsen notes how in the late 1940s,
"Nat 'King' Cole's version of Bobby Troupe's 'Route 66' helped redefine Steinbeck's grim migrant
road as a place of 'kicks'" (37). However, the west was not exactly the west of Paradise's dreams.
Not only is Sal disillusioned by the mass commercialism of a Wild West festival, but he spends two
weeks in a migrant camp in California in abject poverty living on fresh picked grapes before fleeing

Maples The Golem Research Paper
Maples the Golem , like the rest of the Golems, was born on the Steppes near the Ural mountains in
Russia. Some say that Golems are mystical creations, inventions from the minds of vulnerable
humans, only to be heard and silenced by those same individuals. Most would agree that Golems
create trouble all over the world. A few even say they are responsible for some of the biggest
problems in the universe. A Golem will tell you that he is just seeking new opportunities wherever
they arise. Golems grow fat from the scent of fear in humans. Maple's dream was to grow bigger
than the brown bears that roamed the Urals.
One chilly evening in the town of Morton Grove, Maples spotted a white brick house wedged
between two large red cinder block ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
He needed to find someone else. Someone new to the anxiety club, someone easier to control. Just
then, a young boy with a baseball bat and glove appeared. He was walking home with the bat
dragging on the pavement. "Lost another game, bud? If you weren't on the team, your friends would
have won." Big Brother, looked around, from side to side, and quickly ran into the house. Maples
laughed so hard he fell into the sewer near by. He dragged himself out of the sewer, smelling worse
than usual, and crept into Big Brother's bedroom. As he told Big Brother he should quit baseball and
take up old lady knitting, Big Brother grew more anxious. Maples, however, got fatter and fatter,
and sticky from the taste of fear. Big Brother put the covers over his head and tried to block out
Maples' voice with earphones and music, but Maples continue to poke him with unhappy thoughts.
"Night time is the best time," Golem told himself. "That's when the imagination is the most
creative". Maples smiled, he was getting good at this word

Confucianism in Journey to the West
University: University of Leiden 14 June 2012
Department: Language and Culture of China
Course: Visual Political Communication (BA3)
Semester: Summer Semester 2011/2012
Lecturer: Florian Schneider
Journey to the West
A Textual–Visual Discourse Analysis
Name: Stefan Ruijsch (Student No. 0620203)
Major: Chinese Studies, BA 3
E–mail: s.ruijsch@umail.leidenuniv.nl
Phone: 06–48369645
Address: Vrijheidslaan 256, 2321 DP Leiden Word Count: 9,387
Table of Contents
page
1. Introduction......................................................... . 1
2. Theory.................................................................. 4 2.1. Discourse theory – A Short
Explanation............... 4 2.2. Confucianism................................................ 6 2.2.1. The Principles of
Confucianism............... 6 2.2.2. The Confucian ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Ever since, I wondered whether this impression was correct. The goal of this thesis is to satisfy this
curiosity and to determine, through textual and visual analyses, if the 1986 television series also
carries a Confucian message, or whether it was solely produced for entertainment purposes. This
leads to the following research question:
How does the 1986 television series Journey to the West convey the novel's original Confucian
message, and what does this suggest for its production purposes?
I argue that authors and producers often attempt to impose their own set of cultural and political
ideologies on its audience through a certain depiction of right and wrong. In this manner, works of
fiction might influence, perhaps even alter, the ideologies of the audience.[3] Accordingly, analyzing
the depiction of ideologies in media content can serve as a basis for further research on if and how
producers intend to influence their audience.

This particular case of Confucianism in the 1986 Journey to the West television series is especially
interesting, due to China's socio–political setting of that time. The influence of the Chinese
Communist Party (CCP) on media content[4] combined with its usage of Confucianism to secure its
own right to rule[5] make the Journey to the West television series the perfect medium to promote
Confucianism to the masses. The enormous popularity of Journey to the West

Chapter 5 Answer Key
Myers Psychology 6/e Test Bank II CHAPTER 5 Sensation Learning Objectives Sensing the World:
Some Basic Principles (pp. 172–177) 1. Contrast the processes of sensation and perception. 2.
Distinguish between absolute and difference thresholds, and discuss research findings on subliminal
stimulation. 3. Describe the phenomenon of sensory adaptation, and explain its functional value.
Vision (pp. 177–188) 4. Explain the visual process, including the stimulus input, the structure of the
eye, and the transduction of light energy. 5. Discuss the different levels of visual information
processing and the value of parallel processing. 6. Explain the Young–Helmholtz and opponent–
process theories of color vision, and describe the ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Soothing musical audiotapes accompanied by faint and imperceptible verbal messages designed to
increase a desire to lose weight best illustrate: a. kinesthesis. b. sensory interaction. c. subliminal
stimulation. d. parallel processing. e. difference thresholds. Subliminal stimulation, p. 173 Medium,
Factual/Definitional, Objective 2, Ans: b 15. A subliminal message is one that is presented: a. while
an individual is under hypnosis. b. below the absolute threshold for awareness. c. in a manner that is
unconsciously persuasive. d. with very soft background music. e. repetitiously. Subliminal
stimulation, p. 173 Medium, Conceptual, Objective 2, Ans: d 16. Which of the following strategies
best illustrates the use of subliminal stimulation? a. A department store places flashing red lights
near its sale merchandise. b. A magazine ad pictures a pack of cigarettes with a beautiful mountain
stream in the background. c. A church organist plays relaxing background music during a pastor's
congregational prayer. d. A trim female figure is imperceptibly flashed on the TV screen during an
ad for a weight–reduction clinic. Subliminal stimulation, p. 174 Medium, Factual/Definitional,
Objective 2, Ans: c 17. Those who believe in the value of subliminal audiotapes would be wrong to
claim that: a. people are capable of parallel processing. b. signal detection is influenced by a
person's motivational state. c. unconsciously processed

I Am A Tourist Guide At St. Michael 's Cathedral
With Love and Squalor Amelia He When I boarded the afternoon flight for Vancouver, my total
outfit consisted of a small carry–on bag, a North Face rain jacket, and a black leather snap purse
containing my ticket, passport, wallet, and a folded paper with my residential address on West Mall
Street. It was early September. I was at the ripe age of seventeen, bright, timid, and full of the
foolish illusions of youth. A gush of tears at my mother's farewell wave, a touch in the throat when
the plane engine clacked, a pathetic sigh as the familiar cosmopolitan environs passed in view. The
threads which bound me so tightly to home were irreversibly broken. While stranded mid–air, I
reached to the stale tourist catalogue packed in the back seat pocket. The cover page was a glossy
picture of St. Michael 's Cathedral. And I recall a very strange, inexplicable incident. I had been
volunteering as a tourist guide at St. Michael 's Cathedral all day long. Towards sunset, just before it
got dark, I left my shift and sat on the steps of Banh Mi Boys Sandwich Shop unwrapping a
sandwich. The April sun bathed the clear frosty weather. All the skyscrapers sparkled and glittered in
the brilliant light –– a stark contrast from the gloomy hue emitted by the panhandler next to me on
the steps. The young man fidgeted and jittered in the chill, with his dwarfish figure, his bent back,
his face with the stamp of forty years upon it, his jacket torn at the seams, his head, balding but for
locks

The Portal In The Lake Essay
The Portal in the Lake
Crack! My heavy, black leather boots snapped twigs and leaves alike as I trekked through the forest.
My dark blue jeans were soaked with sweat, even though it was March. My black, furry vest,
complete with survival tools, covered my long–sleeved, sky blue, fleece–lined sweater. My navy–
blue backpack held a change of clothes, food, and other necessities. My dark turquoise iPhone 6s
was resting in my vest pocket. "C'mon!" I called to my eleven–year–old twin brother, Jake, who was
at least ten paces behind me. "Slow down, Vi!" Jake laughed good–naturedly. Unlike most boys,
Jake was okay for a brother. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to catch up. When he finally did,
we hiked a little farther, then stopped. As I ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Suddenly held down by an indescribable force, I struggled to resurface. When I reached the surface,
I felt a hand grab me and pat my back. I coughed out mouthfuls of brackish lake water. "You okay?"
I heard a familiar voice say. Shaking, I collapsed into Jake's arms. When I finally recovered, I
looked around and realized I was not back at our camp. "Where are we?" I breathed in awe.
Glancing around me, I saw the heavily forested area. Then, I saw the snow–capped mountain peak
overhead. The lake that I had just swam out of was now crystal clear. Standing quietly, I could hear
the rustle of the breeze through the trees. I reached into my vest to take a picture of this place with
my phone. But when I brought it out, I strained to hear the dying beep of my phone. "Noooo!" I
groaned in agony. My entire life had been for nothing! My phone was DEAD! In the distance, I
could hear Jake's footsteps, and I could smell his muddy boots. Actually, I couldn't! That was
strange, because usually his boots could be smelled miles away. I turned to look at him and I gasped.
His boots and hiking outfit had been replaced with, on his head, a newsboy hat, and, on his torso, a
ragged tunic hung loosely on his limbs, like our stepmother's false hug, and on his legs, breeches,
and high socks. I laughed. Jake smiled. "Nice dress!" I looked down and moaned. I had on a waist–
gripping, mint–green dress with a frilly white apron

A Short Story : A Story?
I looked up at the blinding–blue sky. I looked at the swaying trees. I looked at the surrounding
people, who were strolling around, chatting. I looked down, at the cracked bricks that served as a
path. I was discouraged to discover that nothing was different. Nothing had changed. No secret
passages opened to a rich palace, no booby trap had swallowed me up to trap me in an ancient
dungeon. There was nothing magic or amazing or life–changing about this button. I sighed,
downhearted. I knew I had gotten my hopes up too much; I always did. I knew that Mom and dad
would be expecting me home soon. I started to saunter home. That's when I started seeing things. As
the sun was setting, I saw a red, parrot–like bird that I would describe as a Firebird. A red bird in
California? Weird. As I eventually managed to throw myself inside, the sky was turning a deep
blue–purple. "Liv! dinner's ready!" Mom called. We had a dinner of spaghetti. I slept peacefully that
night, not remembering the red bird. As I rose up the next morning, I had a sense of dread. Only 9
days until school would begin. Better make the most of these days. With that, I sprung out of bed,
got ready to go outside, and I bolted out of my room. I jumped down the stairs, wrote a note to Mom
and Dad, and I swept out of the house. As soon as I went outside, I knew something was off. The
world of my peaceful neighborhood was loud. I heard whispers, whispers from the trees, the
animals, the fish. I

Analysis: A Good Scent From A Strange Mountain
Ann Beattie describes A good Scent from a Strange Mountain, "Deeply affecting ... A brilliant
collection of stories about storytellers whose recited folklore radiates as implicit prayer. One of the
strongest collections I've read in ages." This book is Robert Olen Butler's Pulitzer Prize–winning
collection of lyrical and poignant stories about the aftermath of the Vietnam War and its impacts on
the Vietnamese in Louisiana. Frame narrative is used throughout the book. It means a literary
technique used to contain an embedded narrative, a story within a story, to provide the readers with
context about the main narrative. The stories are largely character–driven, with cultural differences
between Vietnam and the United States as an important theme. "Open Arms" and "Love" both
stories are related to their wives.
The story Open Arms is narrated by a resident of another Versailles, a modern community outside
New Orleans with a large North Vietnamese population. The narrator opens the story by saying "I
fought for my country long enough to lose my wife to another ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
As a spy in Vietnam, he was able to direct U.S. missiles onto the homes of men who aroused his
jealousy by looking at or flirting with his wife. After moving to New Orleans, he suspects his wife
of having an affair with a Vietnamese restaurant owner, and he is powerless in Louisiana and thus
turns to a witch doctor (Voodoo practitioner) to solve the problem of his wife's infidelity. It ends
happily for him that his wife stay by his side at the hospital.
Both stories are narrated by Vietnamese characters. Open Arms and Loves are both talk about their
wives but both stories have different ending. The narrators had immigrated to Louisiana as part of
the Vietnamese diaspora after the war. Stories carry more thematic weight and complexity within
that

A Comparison: A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain and...
Throughout the short story collections in Robert Butler's A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain
and Junot Diaz's Drown, the most prominent differences between these short stories were 1) poverty
versus enough and 2) a healthy versus destructive home and family life and other surroundings. 1.
Poverty vs. Enough Drown illustrates a narrator growing up in a very low income Spanish home
with the bare minimums to survive, "We lived south of the Cementerio Nacional in a wood–frame
house with three rooms. We were poor. The only way we could have been poorer was to have lived
in the campo or to have been Haitian immigrants, and Mami regularly offered these to us as brutal
consolation...We didn't eat rocks but we didn't eat meat or beans, ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
You couldn't look him in the eye either–that wasn't allowed" (Diaz, 26). The narrator expresses the
lack of having his father as a part of his child hood; "I lived without a father for the first nine years
of my life...I didn't know him at all. I didn't know that he'd abandoned us. That this waiting for him
was all a sham" (Diaz, 69–70). Further, the narrator describes deceit and exposure to infidelity at a
young age while his father has an affair on his mother; "...we both knew Papi had been with that
Puerto Rican woman he was seeing and wanted to wash off the evidence quick (Diaz, 23). I met the
Puerto Rican woman right after Papi had gotten the van (Diaz, 34). I don't remember being out of
sorts after I met the Puerto Rican woman, but I must have been because Mami only asked me
questions when she thought something was wrong in my life (Diaz, 42). I didn't say anything to
Mami either...Later I would think, maybe if I had told her, she would have confronted him, would
have done something, but who can know these things" (Diaz, 43). Most stories within A Good Scent
from a Strange Mountain show narrators who are exposed to a gentler, more caring and moral home
and family life in which there was not deceit or overpowering superiors. The narrators often make
reference to their lineage of Catholic faith and

What Is The Theme Of A Good Scent From A Strange Mountain
Briana Morrissette
English 333
Jessica Hagner
5 December 2015
Memories
Robert Olen Butler came from a small town in Granite City, Illinois. His hometown was a melting
pot, bursting with a variety of cultures. The steel mill brought in people from the Midwest and the
South. It also accumulated a large amount of Eastern European immigrants. When he was younger,
he spent his time enjoying things like baseball, but he also was into to reading and theater. He
deemed his father as his hero, but he also favored Ernest Hemingway also. He had a great bond with
his father, who was the chairman of the theater department at the St. Louis University. His father
helped him find his love of theater. The things he learned in theater helped a lot later when ... Show
A Good Scent From A Strange Mountain opens with its first story "Open Arms." Told by a
Vietnamese Buddhist, who migrated to Louisiana, and is disclosing a memory. He shares details
about the time he worked for the Americans, as an interrupter, during the Vietnam War. He conveys
this story from his own perspective, but talks of another man named Thâp. They are both
Vietnamese and both Buddhists, but this is not why he tells his story. Thâp was now on their side
fighting against his people, those he chose to fight for. The overwhelming emotions Butler painted
for the readers of Thâp and the loss of this mans family. The visual imagery is used to express how
this man longed for his wife's touch one last time. In reading just a few lines one could picture his
face and the sadness in his eyes. The narrator sees Thâp and not as his countryman, but as a man
who also longed for his wife. Butler doesn't make a joke of how and why the man killed himself, but
to show his commitment. A Buddhist Vietnamese who was devoted to his wife and his beliefs.
James Nagel says "His death inspires devastating realizations for the narrator, which he now
formulates in retrospect: "Thâp was a true believer, and that night he felt that he had suddenly
understood the democracies he was trying to believe in. He felt that the communists whom he had
rightly broken with, who had killed his wife and shown him their own fatal flaw, nevertheless had

Moral Split And Respect In Bobbie Ann's Deer Hunter
Moral Split and Respect
We will always find ourselves in "moral split" situations. We struggle to make the right decision and
hoping that what we decide would be the correct choice. Sometimes our decisions are strictly
depended on the notion of self–filling prophecy while others are for the sake of philanthropy. We are
selfish if the chosen actions turn out to be a negative impact on the majority of people; however, the
negativity is unforeseeable. If we know ahead of time that our decisions are going to be harmful to
others then more likely than not we would have tried to avoid that complication. Then again, life is
unpredictable. It is unpredictable just like the Vietnam War. Americans went into the war with
culture ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
The Americans at front wanted to show the world that communism must be contained; however,
citizens at home thought differently. The Southern Vietnamese didn't want to be governed by such
leadership. The Northern Vietnamese wanted imperialism because they believed their way of ruling
was superlative and superior. These different perspectives are intensively analyzed in many well–
written novels and powerful films concerning the Vietnam War throughout the world. With this in
mind, the fascinating book that glimpsed at the Vietnam War through a domestic eye is In Country
written by Bobbie Ann Mason while the film, Deer Hunter, directed by Michael Cimino provides
visual understanding. This domestic eye is from strictly the ones that reside in America; however,
we cannot forget the Asian view of this war. With this in mind, The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh, "A
Good Scent from a Strange Mountain" by Robert Olen Butler, and the two movies; The Scent of
Green Papaya directed by Tran Anh Hung and Three Seasons directed by Tony Bui are the best
sources that allow us to understand the other view of war. However, regardless of the different
views, there is always the questioning of morality. As discussed previously, morality is a choice that
is based on individual valuations; therefore, no one should be criticized for his or her decision. With
this in mind, ethics are deeply embedded in "The Madagascar Plum"

Edgar Allan Poe1 Essay
Edgar Allan Poe1 In every story conceived from the mind of Edgar Allan Poe, a scent of his essence
had been molded into each to leave the reader with a better understanding of Poe's life. Poe
displayed his greatest life's achievements and his worst disappointments in a series of stories created
throughout his whole life. It is the goal of this research paper to reveal symbolic facts about his life
and define these hidden maxims in a way that is easy to understand and beneficial to the reader.
Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19th, 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts ("Poe, Edgar Allan,"
Encyclopedia Britannica 540). Poe's parents were David Poe, an actor based in Baltimore and
Elizabeth Arnold Poe, an actress born in England, also ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
When he arrived at the party, he learned that it was Elmira's engagement party, striking a dramatic
blow to Poe's heart (540). After John Allan and Poe had their quarrels over Poe's gambling
addiction, he joined the army under the alias of "Edgar Allan Perry" ("Poe, Edgar Allan,"
Encyclopedia Britannica 540). In 1829, Poe was honorably discharged, but not before attaining the
rank of Sergeant Major (540). A year later, John Allan scheduled an appointment for Poe with the
West Point U.S. Military Academy (540). Poe had not been in the academy for a year when he was
dismissed from West Point. It was after his military career when Poe starting to become a successful
writer of poetry and short stories. In 1831, Poems included three of his greatest works: "To Helen,"
"The City in the Sea," and "Israfel" ("Poe, Edgar Allan," World Book Encyclopedia 591). When his
poems failed to reach recognition, Poe began to write short stories such as "MS. Found in a Bottle"
in 1833 (591). It was around this time when he married his fourteen–year old cousin, Virginia
Clemm, who was a very influential character in Poe's later works (591). In 1840, Poe published a
collection of his first twenty–five stories called Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque ("Poe, Edgar
Allan," World Book Encyclopedia 591). Even when this collection failed to sale or gain recognition,

Wide Sargasso Sea Essay
Wide Sargasso Sea
Places take on a symbolic significance in Wide Sargasso Sea. Discuss the way in which Jean Rhys
uses different locations in the narrative.
Place in 'Wide Sargasso Sea' seems to be used to convey Antoinette's frame of mind at different
times in her life. Wally Look Lai believes that "The West Indian setting...is central to the novel...
(and) the theme of rejected womanhood is utilized symbolically in order to make an artistic
statement about West Indian society and about an aspect of the West Indian experience".
In Part One of 'Wide Sargasso Sea', Coulibri and the convent in
Spanish Town are presented as contrasts in that they represent danger and safety respectively.
Antoinette's mother describes how she ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
This suggests that this is a dangerous place for them to be in, and that, like Eden, the garden is a
symbol of corrupted innocence. This gives the reader a hint of what is coming. Rhys sets a tone of
eerie silence in this West
Indian landscape.
She uses many of her senses to describe the garden, which was
'wonderful to see' and smelt 'very sweet and strong'. She conveys every aspect of the garden in a
very powerful manner, which in turn conveys the wildness of it. This effect is heightened by the
animal imagery used to describe the 'thin brown tentacles' of the orchids.
The garden can no longer be controlled: it has given itself over to wildness and savage overgrowth.
This parallels with the fact that the black people can no longer be controlled by the white people.
Therefore, some may interpret the garden as a symbol of the deterioration of the social hierarchy of
the time. The natural surroundings are often used as symbols in this novel. The first time that she
has her recurring dream, she is 'in the forest' with 'someone who hated' her. This forest is clearly
symbolic of her isolation and the danger that she feels she is in, living in Coulibri.
Antoinette seems particularly preoccupied with morbidity and decay

Ultimate Love in Like Water for Chocolate by Laura...
Ultimate Love in Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel
Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate is a love story set in Mexico, interspersed with recipes,
related in unadorned, uncomplicated language. Yet when the ingredients are combined and simmer,
subtle and unusual flavors emerge. On one level, this is the story of Tita, youngest daughter of the
formidable matriarch Mama Elena who forbids Tita to marry her true love Pedro because tradition
says that the youngest daughter must care for her mother until her death. When Pedro marries Tita's
oldest sister in order to be near Tita, it begins a life–long conflict filled with passion, deception,
anger, and pure love. Interwoven throughout the narrative are the recipes, which, like ... Show more
content on Helpwriting.net ...
As a toddler she spent her days witnessing the magic that Nacha manifested every time she set
herself to make a platter. Tita was her apprentice and without knowing it, little by little, she
completely embodied the power to cook, and what?s more, to reveal herself through her food. When
she had no other way to express herself, food became her mode of communication. Mama Elena?s
cruel appointing of Tita as head of all the preparations for the wedding of her sister Rosaura and the
man that Tita loved, resulted very tragically. While baking the cake with Nacha, Tita?s tears sank
into the batter of the cake, and acted as poisonous toxins that nauseated all those who ate it, ruining
the wedding, and killing Nacha herself, who also tasted Tita?s melancholy teardrops:
Weeping was just the first symptom of a strange intoxication
–an acute attack of pain and frustration– that seized the guests and scattered them across the patio
and the grounds and in the bathrooms, all of them wailing over their lost loves
(39).
Her feelings towards the other nuptial that occurs in the novel are completely different since it
occurs much later in her life and Mama Elena and all the forces that were against her, had vanished.
At her niece?s wedding, Tita felt so much happiness in preparing all the edibles that everyone
complimented her food and those who dared to ask her for the secret recipe only received the reply:
?The secret is to make it with love? (239). As in

Short Story
Sayeed seated himself on the bed and leaned forward. "Backpacking?" The corners of his mouth
twitched. "Where all have you been?" "The Chitral Mountains, Peshewar, and now Lahore for a few
days before I go home. The people I'm with will notice I'm gone and notify the American Embassy.
You should let me go before this becomes an international incident." By the time Dave was done
with his speech, the man was laughing. "What's your name?" "Jordan. I'd give you my passport, but
for some reason I don't have it anymore." Sayeed pulled the navy book in question from his jacket
and thumbed through it. "Jordan Campbell. Place of birth, Atlanta, Georgia." He flipped several
pages and turned the book sideways. "You arrived almost two weeks ago to ... Show more content
on Helpwriting.net ...
"Excuse me for a minute. I'd like for you to meet someone." Dave's heart slammed against his ribs
and continued to do so long after Sayeed walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.
Goliath, on the other hand, remained in the room, still glaring. Dave nodded at him before resting
his head against the cement wall. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck as he said a silent prayer. *
* * Finally showered, Sara searched through her armoire for the black, lacy lingerie Sayeed
frequently requested her to wear and pulled them out. She couldn't afford to make a mistake, not
even in the clothes she wore. Meeting Eddie and realizing her family wanted to bring her home had
weakened her, awakening the loneliness and ache for them that she had long put to sleep. She
couldn't afford to succumb to those emotions. As the bra straps slid over shoulders, Sara locked
away the thoughts and honed in on the pain and loss of the past two years. Those were the emotions
that would help her achieve her goals. She squatted, pulled off the leg of the nightstand, and took out
the pouch hidden within. After slipping it under the rubber band wound around her bicep, Sara
replaced the leg and finished dressing. Eddie had no idea who he was going up against. If he thought
he and his associate could take on Sayeed and win, they were both stupid. Everyone Sara cared
about would die in the process. That was not an option. After a quick glance in the mirror, she
walked out of

A Summary Of A Short Chapter : Chapter 1
he crossed the distance so fast? Sielban grinned then hurried over to the camp. Janto trailed behind
him.
Jerusho reached the climbers first. Janto heard him bellow, "What happened? Did you reach the
crest then impale yourself on it?"
Hamsyn and Tonim, shirtless, carried a contraption of ripped tunics strung across tree branches. A
form answered from within the pallet.
"If only. The women at home might forgive my voice if I had managed the Feat." Flivio's sharp
timbre was unmistakable. "I lost a foothold and slid many yards until my leg stuck inside a crevice.
These two heard my manly cries of pain and reached me thirty minutes later–"
Hamsyn cut in. "Ten minutes later. You were not so far ahead of us as that!"
Flivio laughed, though ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"There is no hope of catching up. Flivio was on Nap's tail up the southern face, but no one has seen
Rall for hours. Better to stay here and celebrate victory with them. Besides, I should keep an eye on
my brother."
"Agreed," said Hamsyn, "and I have learned climbing is not my Feat." Janto scooped up each man's
canteen and took them to the water bucket, returning full ones to a round of thank yous. Hamsyn
took his in silence, lost in thought before addressing Sielban. "Teacher, I am uncertain what my Feat
should be. I had thought it hunting, but my skills are nearly useless in the cover of Braven's woods
and climbing is not my strength. I'm adequate at archery but hopeless at racing far distances–the
burning in my lungs rises far too fast. What should I pursue here? I am afraid my Murat will know
no victories." Sielban cocked his head. "How many men have you known who have been to the
Murat?" "Not many. Two of my village's council. The man who runs Carafin's markets mentioned he
had gone when news got out that my application was accepted. There is the king," he glanced briefly
at Janto, "and his man, Ser Gomalyn, who comes to inspect our holdings once a year."
"Have any of these men told you what titles they claimed at the Murat?"
"Well, no, though the king, of course, won the archery Feat in his year." Janto had heard the honor
brought up many times by servants and members of the council, but it struck him now that his father
had

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