Although it was so brilliantly fine
light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques
had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you ope
was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and
again a leaf came drifting
touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel i
box that afternoon, shaken out the moth
life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little
eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap
the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It must have had a
knock, somehow. Never mind
when it was absolutely necessary... Little rog
Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her
lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking,
she supposed. And when
something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the
band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had b
the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It
was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if
there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor we
was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to
crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at
the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit
drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her head and smiled.
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands
clasped over a huge carved walking
roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for
Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had become really quite
expert, she thought, at listening as though she
lives just for a minute while they talked round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too,
hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he w
Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole time about how she ought
to wear spectacles; she knew she needed them; but that it was no good getting any; they'd
be sure to break and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so pa
everything—gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads inside the bridge.
http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org
MISS BRILL (1920)
By Katherine Mansfield
Although it was so brilliantly fine—the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of
light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques—Miss Brill was glad that she
had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there
was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and
again a leaf cam.
1 Miss Brill by Katherine Mansfield Although it wa.docxjeremylockett77
1
Miss Brill
by Katherine Mansfield
Although it was so brilliantly fine--the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like
white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques°-- Miss Brill° was glad that she had decided on
her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill,
like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting--
from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It
was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-
powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been
happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again
from the red eiderdown!...But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all
firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind--a little dab of black sealing-wax when
the time came--when it was absolutely necessary...Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that
about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on
her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking,
she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad--no, not sad, exactly--
something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band
sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun. For although the band
played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like someone
playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there weren't any strangers
present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped
with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the
green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music. Now there came a little "flutey"
bit--very pretty!--a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she
lifted her head and smiled.
2
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped
over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on
her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked
forward to the conversation. She had become really quite expert, she thought, at listening as
though she didn't listen, at sitting in other people's lives just for a minute while they talked
round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too, hadn't
been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and
she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole t ...
Katherine MansfieldMiss BrillAlthough it was so brilliantl.docxtawnyataylor528
Katherine Mansfield
Miss Brill
Although it was so brilliantly fine - the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques - Miss Brill was glad that she had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting - from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown! ... But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind - a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came - when it was absolutely necessary ... Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking, she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad - no, not sad, exactly - something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun. For although the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit - very pretty! - a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her head and smiled.
< 2 >
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had become really quite expert, she thought, at listening as though she didn't listen, at sitting in other people's lives just for a minute while they talked round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too, hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole time about how she ought to wear spectac ...
The TkeeMaria Luisa BombalThe pianist sits down, cough.docxssusera34210
The Tkee
Maria Luisa Bombal
The pianist sits down, coughs from force of habit and concentrates for a
moment. The clusters of lights illuminating the hall gradually dim until
they glow like dying embers, whereupon a musical phrase rises in the
silence, swells: clear, sharp and judiciously capricious.
Mozart, maybe, Brigida thinks to herself. As usual, she has forgot-
ten to ask for the program. Mozart----or perhaps Scarlatti . . . She knew
so little about music! And it was not because she lacked an ear or the
inclination. On the contrary, as a child it had been she who demanded
piano lessons; no one needed to impose them on her, as was the case
with her sisters. Today, however, her sisters could sight-read perfectly,
while she ... she had abandoned her studies after the first year' The
reason for the inconstancy was as simple as it was shameful: she had
never been able, never, to learn the key of E, "I don't understand-my
memory serves me only to the key of C." And her father's indignation!
"Would that I could lay down this burden: a miserable widower with
children to educate! My poor Carmen! How she would have sufiered
with such a daughter! The creature is retarded!"
Brigida was the youngest of six girls-all endowed with different
temperaments. She received little attention from her father because
dealing with the other five daughters reduced him to such a perplexed
and worn-out state that he preferred to ease his burden by insisting on
her feeblemindedness. "I won't struggle any longer-it's useless. lrave
her alone. If she chooses not to study, so be it. If she would rather spend
hcr time in the kitchen listening to ghost stories, that's fine with me. If
shc favors playing with dolls at the age of sixteen, let her play." And so
Ilrigida had kept to her dolls, remaining almost totally ignorant as far
irs lilrmal education was concerned.
a i
-)q
lluria Luisa Bombal
How pleasant it is to be ignorant! Not to know exactly who Mozart
was-to ignore his origins, his influences, the particularities of his tech-
rrique! To simply let oneself be led by the hand, as now . . .
For in truth Mozart leads her-transporting her onto a bridge sus-
pcnded above crystal water running over a bed of pink sand. She is
rlressed in white, tilting on one shoulder an open parasol of Chantilly
llrce, elaborate and fine as a spider's web.
"You look younger every day, Brigida. Yesterday I ran into your
husband-I mean your ex-husband. His hair is now completely white."
But she makes no reply, unwilling to tarry while crossing the bridge
Mozart has fabricated toward the garden of her youth.
Thll blossoming spouts in which the water sings. Her eighteen years;
hcr chestnut braids that, unbound, cascaded to her waist; her golden
complexion; her dark eyes so wide and questioning. A small mouth
rvith full lips; a sweet smile; and the lightest, most gracious body in the
world. Of what was she thinking, seated by the fountain's edge? Of
nothing. "She is as silly as she ...
1
A Worn Path
Eudora Welty
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro
woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was
Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a
little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a
grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping
the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air that seemed
meditative, like the chirping of a solitary little bird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached
sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over
her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with
age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree
stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks
were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in
the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, 'Out of my way, all you foxes, owls,
beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals! ... Keep out from under these feet, little bob-whites ... Keep
the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way.'
Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to
rouse up any hiding things.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at,
up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning
dove—it was not too late for him.
The path ran up a hill. 'Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far,' she said, in the voice of
argument old people keep to use with themselves. 'Something always take a hold of me on this hill—
pleads I should stay.'
After she got to the top, she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. 'Up
through pines,' she said at length. 'Now down through oaks.'
Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a
bush caught her dress.
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free
in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. 'I in the thorny
bush,' she said. 'Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass—no, sir. Old eyes
thought you was a ...
A Worn PathEudora Welty (1941)iIt was December—a bright froz.docxrock73
A Worn Path
Eudora Welty (1941)
i
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Farout in the country there was an old Negro woman with her headtied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Hername was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and shewalked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from sideto side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of apendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small canemade from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozenearth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in thestill air that seemed meditative, like the chirping of a solitary littlebird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, andan equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket:all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might havefallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes.She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skinhad a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and asthough a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, buta golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheekswere illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the redrag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, stillblack, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenixsaid, "Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits,coons and wild animals! . . . Keep out from under these feet, littlebob-whites . . . Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't letnone of those come running my direction. I got a long way."Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggywhip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hidingthings.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made thepine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the windrocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in thehollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him.
i
The path ran up a hill. "Seem like there is chains about my feet,time I get this far," she said, in the voice of argument old peoplekeep to use with themselves. "Something always take a hold ofme on this hill—pleads I should stay."
5
After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe lookbehind her where she had come. "Up through pines," she said atlength. "Now down through oaks." Her eyes opened their widest,and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom ofthe hill a bush caught her dress.
i
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full andlong, so that before she could pull them free in one place theywere caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress totear. "I in the thorny bush," she said. "Thorns, you doing yourappointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyesthought you was a pretty little green bush." Finally, trembling allover, she stood free, ...
1 Miss Brill by Katherine Mansfield Although it wa.docxjeremylockett77
1
Miss Brill
by Katherine Mansfield
Although it was so brilliantly fine--the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like
white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques°-- Miss Brill° was glad that she had decided on
her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill,
like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting--
from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It
was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-
powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been
happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again
from the red eiderdown!...But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all
firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind--a little dab of black sealing-wax when
the time came--when it was absolutely necessary...Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that
about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on
her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking,
she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad--no, not sad, exactly--
something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band
sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun. For although the band
played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like someone
playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there weren't any strangers
present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped
with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the
green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music. Now there came a little "flutey"
bit--very pretty!--a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she
lifted her head and smiled.
2
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped
over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on
her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked
forward to the conversation. She had become really quite expert, she thought, at listening as
though she didn't listen, at sitting in other people's lives just for a minute while they talked
round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too, hadn't
been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and
she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole t ...
Katherine MansfieldMiss BrillAlthough it was so brilliantl.docxtawnyataylor528
Katherine Mansfield
Miss Brill
Although it was so brilliantly fine - the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques - Miss Brill was glad that she had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting - from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown! ... But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind - a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came - when it was absolutely necessary ... Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking, she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad - no, not sad, exactly - something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun. For although the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit - very pretty! - a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her head and smiled.
< 2 >
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had become really quite expert, she thought, at listening as though she didn't listen, at sitting in other people's lives just for a minute while they talked round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too, hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole time about how she ought to wear spectac ...
The TkeeMaria Luisa BombalThe pianist sits down, cough.docxssusera34210
The Tkee
Maria Luisa Bombal
The pianist sits down, coughs from force of habit and concentrates for a
moment. The clusters of lights illuminating the hall gradually dim until
they glow like dying embers, whereupon a musical phrase rises in the
silence, swells: clear, sharp and judiciously capricious.
Mozart, maybe, Brigida thinks to herself. As usual, she has forgot-
ten to ask for the program. Mozart----or perhaps Scarlatti . . . She knew
so little about music! And it was not because she lacked an ear or the
inclination. On the contrary, as a child it had been she who demanded
piano lessons; no one needed to impose them on her, as was the case
with her sisters. Today, however, her sisters could sight-read perfectly,
while she ... she had abandoned her studies after the first year' The
reason for the inconstancy was as simple as it was shameful: she had
never been able, never, to learn the key of E, "I don't understand-my
memory serves me only to the key of C." And her father's indignation!
"Would that I could lay down this burden: a miserable widower with
children to educate! My poor Carmen! How she would have sufiered
with such a daughter! The creature is retarded!"
Brigida was the youngest of six girls-all endowed with different
temperaments. She received little attention from her father because
dealing with the other five daughters reduced him to such a perplexed
and worn-out state that he preferred to ease his burden by insisting on
her feeblemindedness. "I won't struggle any longer-it's useless. lrave
her alone. If she chooses not to study, so be it. If she would rather spend
hcr time in the kitchen listening to ghost stories, that's fine with me. If
shc favors playing with dolls at the age of sixteen, let her play." And so
Ilrigida had kept to her dolls, remaining almost totally ignorant as far
irs lilrmal education was concerned.
a i
-)q
lluria Luisa Bombal
How pleasant it is to be ignorant! Not to know exactly who Mozart
was-to ignore his origins, his influences, the particularities of his tech-
rrique! To simply let oneself be led by the hand, as now . . .
For in truth Mozart leads her-transporting her onto a bridge sus-
pcnded above crystal water running over a bed of pink sand. She is
rlressed in white, tilting on one shoulder an open parasol of Chantilly
llrce, elaborate and fine as a spider's web.
"You look younger every day, Brigida. Yesterday I ran into your
husband-I mean your ex-husband. His hair is now completely white."
But she makes no reply, unwilling to tarry while crossing the bridge
Mozart has fabricated toward the garden of her youth.
Thll blossoming spouts in which the water sings. Her eighteen years;
hcr chestnut braids that, unbound, cascaded to her waist; her golden
complexion; her dark eyes so wide and questioning. A small mouth
rvith full lips; a sweet smile; and the lightest, most gracious body in the
world. Of what was she thinking, seated by the fountain's edge? Of
nothing. "She is as silly as she ...
1
A Worn Path
Eudora Welty
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro
woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was
Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a
little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a
grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping
the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air that seemed
meditative, like the chirping of a solitary little bird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached
sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over
her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with
age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree
stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks
were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in
the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, 'Out of my way, all you foxes, owls,
beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals! ... Keep out from under these feet, little bob-whites ... Keep
the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way.'
Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to
rouse up any hiding things.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at,
up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning
dove—it was not too late for him.
The path ran up a hill. 'Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far,' she said, in the voice of
argument old people keep to use with themselves. 'Something always take a hold of me on this hill—
pleads I should stay.'
After she got to the top, she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. 'Up
through pines,' she said at length. 'Now down through oaks.'
Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a
bush caught her dress.
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free
in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. 'I in the thorny
bush,' she said. 'Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass—no, sir. Old eyes
thought you was a ...
A Worn PathEudora Welty (1941)iIt was December—a bright froz.docxrock73
A Worn Path
Eudora Welty (1941)
i
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Farout in the country there was an old Negro woman with her headtied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Hername was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and shewalked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from sideto side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of apendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small canemade from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozenearth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in thestill air that seemed meditative, like the chirping of a solitary littlebird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, andan equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket:all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might havefallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes.She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skinhad a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and asthough a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, buta golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheekswere illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the redrag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, stillblack, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenixsaid, "Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits,coons and wild animals! . . . Keep out from under these feet, littlebob-whites . . . Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't letnone of those come running my direction. I got a long way."Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggywhip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hidingthings.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made thepine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the windrocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in thehollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him.
i
The path ran up a hill. "Seem like there is chains about my feet,time I get this far," she said, in the voice of argument old peoplekeep to use with themselves. "Something always take a hold ofme on this hill—pleads I should stay."
5
After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe lookbehind her where she had come. "Up through pines," she said atlength. "Now down through oaks." Her eyes opened their widest,and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom ofthe hill a bush caught her dress.
i
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full andlong, so that before she could pull them free in one place theywere caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress totear. "I in the thorny bush," she said. "Thorns, you doing yourappointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyesthought you was a pretty little green bush." Finally, trembling allover, she stood free, ...
A Worn PathEUDORA WELTY[1909–2001]It was December—a bright f.docxSALU18
A Worn Path
EUDORA WELTY
[1909–2001]
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air, that seemed meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, “Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals! … Keep out from under these feet, little bobwhites… . Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don’t let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way.” Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hiding things.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him.
The path ran up a hill. “Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far,” she said, in the voice of argument old people keep to use with themselves. “Something always take a hold of me on this hill—pleads I should stay.”
After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. “Up through pines,” she said at length. “Now down through oaks.”
Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a bush caught her dress.
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. “I in the thorny bush,” she said. “Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyes thought you was a pretty little green bush.”
Finally, trembling a.
The Story of an Hour Kate Chopin (1894)Knowing that Mrs..docxsarah98765
"The Story of an Hour"
Kate Chopin (1894)
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and.
6Lu Xun (1881 - 1936)Diary of a MadmanChineseModernismDrhetttrevannion
6
Lu Xun (1881 - 1936)
Diary of a MadmanChineseModernism
"Diary of a Madman" is a famous short story by Lu Xun, who is regarded as a great writer of modern Chinese literature. Lu Xun (surname: Lu, and the pen name of Zhou Shuren) was a short story writer, translator, essayist, and literary scholar. Although Lu was educated in the Confucian tradition when he was young, he later received a modern western education; he studied modern medicine in Japan and was exposed to western literature (including English, German, and Russian literatures). In 1918, "Diary of a Madman" was published in New Youth, a magazine of the New Culture Movement that promoted democracy, egalitarianism, vernacular literature, individual freedom, and women's rights. Inspired by the Russian writer Nikolai Gogol's story of the same title, Lu wrote this story, which is the first western-style story in vernacular Chinese. The cannibalistic society that the madman narrator sees is generally interpreted as a satirical allegory of traditional Chinese society based on Confucianism. Although Lu and his works were associated with leftist ideas (and Mao Zedong favored Lu's works), Lu never joined the Communist Party of China. The English translations of this short story include a version by William A. Lyell, a former professor of Chinese at Stanford University.Consider while reading:What elements of detective fiction does Borges include in "The Garden of Forking Paths"?How does having multiple possible outcomes influence the resolution of the text?How does Borges use the symbolism of the labyrinth?Borges is known for his use of magical realism and his work in the science fiction genre. How does Borges incorporate magical realism into "The Garden of the Forking Paths?" What effect does it create?
Kwon, Kyounghye. (n.d.). Compact Anthology of World Literature: The 17th and 18th Centuries (Part 6). Dahlonega, GA: University of North Georgia Press.
CC-BY-SA.
5
10
THE GARDEN PARTY
License: Public Domain
Katherine Mansfield
And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect
day for a garden-party if they had ordered it. Windless, warm, the sky without a
cloud. Only the blue was veiled with a haze of light gold, as it is sometimes in
early summer. The gardener had been up since dawn, mowing the lawns and
sweeping them, until the grass and the dark flat rosettes where the daisy plants
had been seemed to shine. As for the roses, you could not help feeling they
understood that roses are the only flowers that impress people at garden-parties;
the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing. Hundreds, yes, literally
hundreds, had come out in a single night; the green bushes bowed down as
though they had been visited by archangels.
Breakfast was not yet over before the men came to put up the marquee.
"Where do you want the marquee put, mother?"
"My dear child, it's no use asking me. I'm determined to leave everything to
you children this year. Forget I ...
Smith, Aaron. Future of Technology.” Pew Research Center Interne.docxpbilly1
Smith, Aaron. “Future of Technology.” Pew Research Center: Internet, Science & Tech, Pew Research Center, 31 Dec. 2019, www.pewresearch.org/internet/2014/04/17/us-views-of-technology-and-the-future/.
Jones, Barry O. Sleepers, Wake!: Technology & the Future of Work. Oxford University Press, 1995.
https://books.google.com/books?hl=zh-TW&lr=&id=sHfmCwAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PR7&dq=Technology+and+the+Future&ots=tS2aNC8cYf&sig=vSPtWlznk9pHhMS_A-a8YuCWlNA#v=onepage&q&f=false
1
FAHRENHEIT 451
by Ray Bradbury
This one, with gratitude,
is for DON CONGDON.
FAHRENHEIT 451:
The temperature at which book-paper catches fire and burns
CONTENTS
one The Hearth and the Salamander 1
two The Sieve and the Sand 67
three Burning Bright 107
PART I
It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things
blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this
great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood
pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing
conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring
down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic
helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame
with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the
house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and
yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above
all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace,
while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and
2
lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and
blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.
Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back
by flame.
He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at
himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror. Later, going to
sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in
the dark. It never went away, that. smile, it never ever went away, as
long as he remembered.
He hung up his black-beetle-colored helmet and shined it, he hung
his flameproof jacket neatly; he showered luxuriously, and then,
whistling, hands in pockets, walked across the upper floor of the fire
station and fell down the hole. At the last moment, when disaster
seemed positive, he pulled his hands from his pockets and broke his
fall by grasping the golden pole. He slid to a squeaking halt, the heels
one inch from the concrete floor downstairs.
He walked out of the fire station and along the midnight street
toward the subway where the silent, air-propelled train slid
soundlessly down its lubricated flue in the earth and let him out with a
great puff of warm air an to the cream-tiled escalator rising to the
suburb.
Whistling, he let the escalator waft him into the still night air. He
walked toward the comer, thinking little at a.
1010 Essay Short Story Analysis Comparison Stories include.docxhyacinthshackley2629
1010 Essay
Short Story Analysis/ Comparison
Stories include:
1. “The Story of an Hour”-Chopin
3. “Bluebeard”-Perrault
*You must use and cite at least 4 outside sources (you don’t have to include story
Analysis of story(s)
Film versions
Other versions of story (compare)
*Length- 4-6 pgs+ works cited page
Analyze any one of the stories by breaking it into and analyzing all of its elements.
In final folder:
a. Outline
b. Rough Drafts/ Peer
c. Final Draft
Blue Beard
Charles Perrault
There was once a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate,
embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded all over with gold. But this man was so unlucky as to have a blue
beard, which made him so frightfully ugly that all the women and girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were perfect beauties. He desired of her
one of them in marriage, leaving to her choice which of the two she would bestow on him. Neither of them
would have him, and they sent him backwards and forwards from one to the other, not being able to bear
the thoughts of marrying a man who had a blue beard. Adding to their disgust and aversion was the fact
that he already had been married to several wives, and nobody knew what had become of them.
Blue Beard, to engage their affection, took them, with their mother and three or four ladies of their
acquaintance, with other young people of the neighborhood, to one of his country houses, where they
stayed a whole week.
The time was filled with parties, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth, and feasting. Nobody went to bed, but all
passed the night in rallying and joking with each other. In short, everything succeeded so well that the
youngest daughter began to think that the man's beard was not so very blue after all, and that he was a
mighty civil gentleman.
As soon as they returned home, the marriage was concluded. About a month afterwards, Blue Beard told
his wife that he was obliged to take a country journey for six weeks at least, about affairs of very great
consequence. He desired her to divert herself in his absence, to send for her friends and acquaintances, to
take them into the country, if she pleased, and to make good cheer wherever she was.
"Here," said he," are the keys to the two great wardrobes, wherein I have my best furniture. These are to
my silver and gold plate, which is not everyday in use. These open my strongboxes, which hold my money,
both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels. And this is the master key to all my apartments. But as for
this little one here, it is the key to the closet at the end of the great hall on the ground floor. Open them all;
go into each and every one of them, except that little closet, which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a
manner that, if you happen to open it, you may expect my just anger and resentment."
She promised to observe, very exactly, .
Analyze and describe how social media could influence each stage of .docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze and describe how social media could influence each stage of the Customer Decision Journey for a customer deciding where to go for a special night out (may include dinner, a special activity, etc.). Please be specific and cover each stage. Use the modified customer decision journey not the traditional journey. Note that this is for social media not other forms of internet sites.
Please note: Grading Criteria and textbook notes for reference are attached.
.
Analyze Delta Airlines, Inc public stock exchange NYSE- company’s pr.docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze Delta Airlines, Inc public stock exchange NYSE- company’s profitability, liquidity, leverage and the common stock as an investment. The length of the paper should be 3 to 5 pages in APA format. Prepare a financial analysis on the company using public information such as the company’s annual report, SEC 10-Q and 10-K.
.
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A Worn PathEUDORA WELTY[1909–2001]It was December—a bright f.docxSALU18
A Worn Path
EUDORA WELTY
[1909–2001]
It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air, that seemed meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird.
She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, “Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals! … Keep out from under these feet, little bobwhites… . Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don’t let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way.” Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hiding things.
On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him.
The path ran up a hill. “Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far,” she said, in the voice of argument old people keep to use with themselves. “Something always take a hold of me on this hill—pleads I should stay.”
After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. “Up through pines,” she said at length. “Now down through oaks.”
Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a bush caught her dress.
Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. “I in the thorny bush,” she said. “Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyes thought you was a pretty little green bush.”
Finally, trembling a.
The Story of an Hour Kate Chopin (1894)Knowing that Mrs..docxsarah98765
"The Story of an Hour"
Kate Chopin (1894)
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and.
6Lu Xun (1881 - 1936)Diary of a MadmanChineseModernismDrhetttrevannion
6
Lu Xun (1881 - 1936)
Diary of a MadmanChineseModernism
"Diary of a Madman" is a famous short story by Lu Xun, who is regarded as a great writer of modern Chinese literature. Lu Xun (surname: Lu, and the pen name of Zhou Shuren) was a short story writer, translator, essayist, and literary scholar. Although Lu was educated in the Confucian tradition when he was young, he later received a modern western education; he studied modern medicine in Japan and was exposed to western literature (including English, German, and Russian literatures). In 1918, "Diary of a Madman" was published in New Youth, a magazine of the New Culture Movement that promoted democracy, egalitarianism, vernacular literature, individual freedom, and women's rights. Inspired by the Russian writer Nikolai Gogol's story of the same title, Lu wrote this story, which is the first western-style story in vernacular Chinese. The cannibalistic society that the madman narrator sees is generally interpreted as a satirical allegory of traditional Chinese society based on Confucianism. Although Lu and his works were associated with leftist ideas (and Mao Zedong favored Lu's works), Lu never joined the Communist Party of China. The English translations of this short story include a version by William A. Lyell, a former professor of Chinese at Stanford University.Consider while reading:What elements of detective fiction does Borges include in "The Garden of Forking Paths"?How does having multiple possible outcomes influence the resolution of the text?How does Borges use the symbolism of the labyrinth?Borges is known for his use of magical realism and his work in the science fiction genre. How does Borges incorporate magical realism into "The Garden of the Forking Paths?" What effect does it create?
Kwon, Kyounghye. (n.d.). Compact Anthology of World Literature: The 17th and 18th Centuries (Part 6). Dahlonega, GA: University of North Georgia Press.
CC-BY-SA.
5
10
THE GARDEN PARTY
License: Public Domain
Katherine Mansfield
And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect
day for a garden-party if they had ordered it. Windless, warm, the sky without a
cloud. Only the blue was veiled with a haze of light gold, as it is sometimes in
early summer. The gardener had been up since dawn, mowing the lawns and
sweeping them, until the grass and the dark flat rosettes where the daisy plants
had been seemed to shine. As for the roses, you could not help feeling they
understood that roses are the only flowers that impress people at garden-parties;
the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing. Hundreds, yes, literally
hundreds, had come out in a single night; the green bushes bowed down as
though they had been visited by archangels.
Breakfast was not yet over before the men came to put up the marquee.
"Where do you want the marquee put, mother?"
"My dear child, it's no use asking me. I'm determined to leave everything to
you children this year. Forget I ...
Smith, Aaron. Future of Technology.” Pew Research Center Interne.docxpbilly1
Smith, Aaron. “Future of Technology.” Pew Research Center: Internet, Science & Tech, Pew Research Center, 31 Dec. 2019, www.pewresearch.org/internet/2014/04/17/us-views-of-technology-and-the-future/.
Jones, Barry O. Sleepers, Wake!: Technology & the Future of Work. Oxford University Press, 1995.
https://books.google.com/books?hl=zh-TW&lr=&id=sHfmCwAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PR7&dq=Technology+and+the+Future&ots=tS2aNC8cYf&sig=vSPtWlznk9pHhMS_A-a8YuCWlNA#v=onepage&q&f=false
1
FAHRENHEIT 451
by Ray Bradbury
This one, with gratitude,
is for DON CONGDON.
FAHRENHEIT 451:
The temperature at which book-paper catches fire and burns
CONTENTS
one The Hearth and the Salamander 1
two The Sieve and the Sand 67
three Burning Bright 107
PART I
It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things
blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this
great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood
pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing
conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring
down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic
helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame
with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the
house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and
yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above
all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace,
while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and
2
lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and
blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.
Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back
by flame.
He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at
himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror. Later, going to
sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in
the dark. It never went away, that. smile, it never ever went away, as
long as he remembered.
He hung up his black-beetle-colored helmet and shined it, he hung
his flameproof jacket neatly; he showered luxuriously, and then,
whistling, hands in pockets, walked across the upper floor of the fire
station and fell down the hole. At the last moment, when disaster
seemed positive, he pulled his hands from his pockets and broke his
fall by grasping the golden pole. He slid to a squeaking halt, the heels
one inch from the concrete floor downstairs.
He walked out of the fire station and along the midnight street
toward the subway where the silent, air-propelled train slid
soundlessly down its lubricated flue in the earth and let him out with a
great puff of warm air an to the cream-tiled escalator rising to the
suburb.
Whistling, he let the escalator waft him into the still night air. He
walked toward the comer, thinking little at a.
1010 Essay Short Story Analysis Comparison Stories include.docxhyacinthshackley2629
1010 Essay
Short Story Analysis/ Comparison
Stories include:
1. “The Story of an Hour”-Chopin
3. “Bluebeard”-Perrault
*You must use and cite at least 4 outside sources (you don’t have to include story
Analysis of story(s)
Film versions
Other versions of story (compare)
*Length- 4-6 pgs+ works cited page
Analyze any one of the stories by breaking it into and analyzing all of its elements.
In final folder:
a. Outline
b. Rough Drafts/ Peer
c. Final Draft
Blue Beard
Charles Perrault
There was once a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate,
embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded all over with gold. But this man was so unlucky as to have a blue
beard, which made him so frightfully ugly that all the women and girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were perfect beauties. He desired of her
one of them in marriage, leaving to her choice which of the two she would bestow on him. Neither of them
would have him, and they sent him backwards and forwards from one to the other, not being able to bear
the thoughts of marrying a man who had a blue beard. Adding to their disgust and aversion was the fact
that he already had been married to several wives, and nobody knew what had become of them.
Blue Beard, to engage their affection, took them, with their mother and three or four ladies of their
acquaintance, with other young people of the neighborhood, to one of his country houses, where they
stayed a whole week.
The time was filled with parties, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth, and feasting. Nobody went to bed, but all
passed the night in rallying and joking with each other. In short, everything succeeded so well that the
youngest daughter began to think that the man's beard was not so very blue after all, and that he was a
mighty civil gentleman.
As soon as they returned home, the marriage was concluded. About a month afterwards, Blue Beard told
his wife that he was obliged to take a country journey for six weeks at least, about affairs of very great
consequence. He desired her to divert herself in his absence, to send for her friends and acquaintances, to
take them into the country, if she pleased, and to make good cheer wherever she was.
"Here," said he," are the keys to the two great wardrobes, wherein I have my best furniture. These are to
my silver and gold plate, which is not everyday in use. These open my strongboxes, which hold my money,
both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels. And this is the master key to all my apartments. But as for
this little one here, it is the key to the closet at the end of the great hall on the ground floor. Open them all;
go into each and every one of them, except that little closet, which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a
manner that, if you happen to open it, you may expect my just anger and resentment."
She promised to observe, very exactly, .
Analyze and describe how social media could influence each stage of .docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze and describe how social media could influence each stage of the Customer Decision Journey for a customer deciding where to go for a special night out (may include dinner, a special activity, etc.). Please be specific and cover each stage. Use the modified customer decision journey not the traditional journey. Note that this is for social media not other forms of internet sites.
Please note: Grading Criteria and textbook notes for reference are attached.
.
Analyze Delta Airlines, Inc public stock exchange NYSE- company’s pr.docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze Delta Airlines, Inc public stock exchange NYSE- company’s profitability, liquidity, leverage and the common stock as an investment. The length of the paper should be 3 to 5 pages in APA format. Prepare a financial analysis on the company using public information such as the company’s annual report, SEC 10-Q and 10-K.
.
Analyze and Evaluate Human Performance TechnologyNow that you ha.docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze and Evaluate Human Performance Technology
Now that you have a good understanding of human performance technology, explain the most frequently used means of gathering data in the field of human performance technology (HPT). Why is this important to an organization? What can go wrong?
Use scholarly research to back up your thoughts in this assignment. Your work should be a minimum of 2 pages following APA format.
.
Analyze a popular culture reference (e.g., song, tv show, movie) o.docxgreg1eden90113
Analyze a popular culture reference (e.g., song, tv show, movie) or a scholarly source outside psychology (e.g., literary novel, philosopher's theory, artistic movement) for its developmental themes. How does it understand development in comparison and in contrast to developmental psychology?
.
ANALYTICS PLAN TO REDUCE CUSTOMER CHURN AT YORE BLENDS Himabin.docxgreg1eden90113
ANALYTICS PLAN TO REDUCE CUSTOMER CHURN AT YORE BLENDS
Himabindu Aratikatla
University of the Cumberland's
March 22, 2020
Introduction
Yore Blends (YB) is a fictional online company dedicated to selling subscription-based traditional spice blends coupled with additional complementary products.
Yore Blends (YB) aspire to growing through mergers and acquisitions.
To do this, they need a strong customer base and steady revenue.
Yore Blends is concerned with the rate of customer churn.
Company’s Problem
Yore Blends has been in existence for years.
Nonetheless, the company is considering to expand through mergers and acquisition.
However, they are experiencing customer churn.
A considerable percentage of its clients don’t purchase their goods anymore.
As a result, the company needs to reduce customer attrition by at least 16%.
Causes for Customer Churn
Poor customer care service:
The company minimized rather than maximizing client cost
Bad onboarding:
Yore Blends clients failed to get value for the purchased products.
Clients might have lost interest in the company’s products.
Many companies think of customer service as a cost to be minimized, rather than an investment to be maximized. Here’s the issue with that: if you think of support as a cost center, then it will be. That is, if you don’t prioritize support and work to deliver excellent service to your customers, then it’s only going to cost you money…and customers. A disproportionate amount of your customer churn will take place between (1) and (2).
That’s where customers abandon your product because they get lost, don’t understand something, don’t get value from the product, or simply lose interest.
Bad onboarding – the process by which you help a customer go from (1) to (2) – can crush your retention rate, and undo all of that hard work you did to get your customers to convert in the first place.
4
Causes for Customer Churn (Cont.)
Limited customer success:
Lack of updates regarding new products
Extended absence of the company-client communication
Natural Causes:
Customers may have grown out of the products.
May have resulted due to Vendor switches might
While onboarding gets your customer to their initial success, your job isn’t done there. Hundreds of variables – including changing needs, confusion about new features and product updates, extended absences from the product and competitor marketing – could lead your customers away. If your customers stop hearing from you, and you stop helping them get value from your product throughout their entire lifecycle, then you risk making that lifecycle much, much shorter. Furthermore, Not every customer that abandons you does so because you failed. Sometimes, customers go out of business. Sometimes, operational or staff changes lead to vendor switches. Sometimes, they simply outgrow your product or service. (Salloum, 2016)
5
REASONS TO ANALYZE CUSTOMER CHURN
The company will be in a position to understand c.
Analytics, Data Science, and Artificial Intelligence, 11th Editi.docxgreg1eden90113
Analytics, Data Science, and Artificial Intelligence, 11th Edition.pdf
ANALYTICS, DATA SCIENCE, &
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE
SYSTEMS FOR DECISION SUPPORT
E L E V E N T H E D I T I O N
Ramesh Sharda
Oklahoma State University
Dursun Delen
Oklahoma State University
Efraim Turban
University of Hawaii
Microsoft and/or its respective suppliers make no representations about the suitability of the information
contained in the documents and related graphics published as part of the services for any purpose. All such
documents and related graphics are provided “as is” without warranty of any kind. Microsoft and/or its respective
suppliers hereby disclaim all warranties and conditions with regard to this information, including all warranties
and conditions of merchantability, whether express, implied or statutory, fitness for a particular purpose, title and
non-infringement. In no event shall Microsoft and/or its respective suppliers be liable for any special, indirect
or consequential damages or any damages whatsoever resulting from loss of use, data or profits, whether in an
action of contract, negligence or other tortious action, arising out of or in connection with the use or performance
of information available from the services. The documents and related graphics contained herein could include
technical inaccuracies or typographical errors. Changes are periodically added to the information herein. Microsoft
and/or its respective suppliers may make improvements and/or changes in the product(s) and/or the program(s)
described herein at any time. Partial screen shots may be viewed in full within the software version specified.
Microsoft® Windows® and Microsoft Office® are registered trademarks of Microsoft Corporation in the U.S.A. and
other countries. This book is not sponsored or endorsed by or affiliated with the Microsoft Corporation.
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ISBN 13: 97.
Analytical Essay One, due Sunday, February 24th at 1100 pmTopic.docxgreg1eden90113
Analytical Essay One, due Sunday, February 24th at 11:00 pm
Topic A
In Unit 4, we claimed that empire-builders in the ancient world needed to "craft a type of multi-ethnic cohesion" – ways for people from different backgrounds to coexist under the umbrella of the empire – in order for their state to function (Video 4.1). On the other hand, we consider evidence discussed in Units 3 and 4 that the foundation of empire was the willingness of leaders to use violence to overwhelm their enemies.
In an essay of 600 to 1200 words, explore such evidence to make an argument about some of the ways people balanced political solutions to problems with war. In the end, you should persuade your reader, through your thoughtful analysis of the historical evidence, that empire-building in the ancient world transformed the ways that humans understood the role of violence in politics.
When organizing your ideas and drafting your essay, follow these guidelines:
1. Build your analysis using the course materials. The basis of your essay should be the primary source material found at the end of Unit 4 under “Unit 4 Resources.” By all means, take the ideas and evidence offered in the videos (and please note that we have provided transcripts of the videos as well.) This information will provide context for the primary resources.
*DO NOT base your observations on other evidence that you locate on the web or elsewhere. Remember, a big part of this essay is showing your mastery of the course material as assigned.*
2. After reviewing the material from Week 4, choose the two -- four examples from the primary sources that best allow you to make a persuasive case about the role of empire in the ancient world. While you want to show that you understand the larger trends in the material, take the time to explore in depth these specific examples.
3. When you refer to specific historical evidence (which should be something you do frequently throughout the essay), indicate, in parentheses, the location in the course materials of the evidence. An example of this is in the first sentence above.
4. Do not simply copy what we (or anyone else) have said. If you do, use quotation marks to indicate that the words were written by someone else and be sure to indicate your source for the quotation in parentheses. Plagiarism is a serious violation of GSU policy that leads to severe penalties!
5. To qualify for a grade in the C range, your essay must be at least 600 words (which is approximately 2 double-spaced pages, depending on the formatting of your document). B-range essays must be at least 900 words, and A-range essays must be at least 1200 words. However, meeting the word requirement does not mean that you will necessary receive a certain grade.
We will grade the essay out of 100 possible points according to these criteria:
Up to 30 points for the student's grasp of the larger historical context covered in the units
Up to 25 points for the appropriateness of the student's choi.
Analytical Essay Two, due Sunday, March 31st at 1100 pmTopi.docxgreg1eden90113
Analytical Essay Two, due Sunday, March 31st at 11:00 pm
Topic A
In Unit 9, we described some of the ways that the Silk Road facilitated both the spread of religion and the dispersal of commodities.
In an essay of 600 to 1200 words, explore the videos and the primary source evidence to make an argument about some of the ways the Silk Road created a form of (near) globalization. In the end, you should persuade your reader, through your thoughtful analysis of the historical evidence that succeeded in creating aspects of a common culture in throughout Eurasia.
When organizing your ideas and drafting your essay, follow these guidelines:
1. Build your analysis using the course materials. The basis of your essay should be the primary source material found at the end of Unit 9 under “Unit 9 Resources.” By all means, take the ideas and evidence offered in the videos (and please note that we have provided transcripts of the videos as well.) This information will provide context for the primary resources.
*DO NOT base your observations on other evidence that you locate on the web or elsewhere. Remember, a big part of this essay is showing us your mastery of the course material we have assigned.*
2. After reviewing the material from Week 9, use both primary sources to make a persuasive case about the role of the Silk Roads in creating a new form of globalization. While you want to show that you understand the larger trends in the material, take the time to explore in depth these specific sources.
3. When you refer to specific historical evidence (which should be something you do frequently throughout the essay), indicate, in parentheses, the location in the course materials of the evidence.
4. Do not simply copy what we (or anyone else) have said. If you do, use quotation marks to indicate that the words were written by someone else and be sure to indicate your source for the quotation in parentheses. Plagiarism is a serious violation of GSU policy that leads to severe penalties!
5. To qualify for a grade in the C range, your essay must be at least 600 words (which is approximately 2 double-spaced pages, depending on the formatting of your document). B-range essays must be at least 900 words, and A-range essays must be at least 1200 words. However, meeting the word requirement does not mean that you will necessary receive a certain grade.
We will grade the essay out of 100 possible points according to these criteria:
Up to 30 points for the student's grasp of the larger historical context covered in the units
Up to 25 points for the appropriateness of the student's choice of examples to analyze in depth and proper citation of these sources
Up to 25 points for the quality of the student's analysis of those examples
Up to 20 points for appropriate grammar and graceful expression
Topic B
Friar John of Pian de Carpine and William of Rubruck each provide a description of a Mongol court. In an essay of 600 to 1200 words, explore their descriptio.
analytic 1000 word essay about the Matrix 1 Simple english .docxgreg1eden90113
analytic 1000 word essay
about the Matrix 1
Simple english please and easy to understand
the question is :How does
The Matrix
use religious concepts in the unfolding of its narrative?
USE SOURCES THAT I CAN ACCESS EASILY
APAth 6 STYLE REFERENCE
.
ANALYSIS PAPER GUIDELINES and FORMAT What is the problem or is.docxgreg1eden90113
ANALYSIS PAPER: GUIDELINES and FORMAT:
What is the problem or issue to be solved?
ABSTRACT:
State the problem and best course of action (i.e. solution) in the absolute fewest words possible. YOU MUST BEGIN YOUR PAPER WITH A ONE PARAGRAPH SUMMATIVE “ABSTRACT” DEFINING YOUR POSITION/THESIS.
1. INTRODUCTION:
Restate the problem and proposals/solutions CLEARLY. Provide any necessary background information. Explain/Summarize why your proposed course(s) of action are worthwhile/best, etc. Explain key terms needed to understand the problem.
2. BODY (Part One):
What are the causes of the problem?
Why/How did it happen?
For whom is this a problem?
What are the effects of the problem?
Why is it a problem?
The better you, the writer, understands the problem/issue and all its implications, the better solutions you will find.
Properly document/support your arguments/findings, etc.
3. BODY (Part Two):
Discuss and examine each solution, course of action, etc. Why is it feasible. Why is this the best course of action. What are the advantages over other courses of action or solutions.
What resources are available or will be necessary?
Use logic and critical thinking in your discussion.
Apply learned or researched theories and/or principles.
Fully and properly DOCUMENT your work/paper.
Discuss and consider all sides/arguments and look for repercussions. What could go wrong; what might not work; what might not be supported?
4. BODY (Part Three/Conclusion):
Discuss which/why your proposed course of action/solution is the
most feasible and why you chose it, developed it, etc.
Make sure your justification of the “value” of the chosen solution is fully supported/rationalized.
When you done, make sure you did the following:
Are all your arguments/reasoning logical and supported?
Are your transitions and connections clear and do they flow together?.
Are all your ideas, arguments, sources moving the reader further from one idea to the next?
Is there a constant “nexus” between what you are writing and your abstract?
Are you using correct words?
Short sentences?
Short paragraphs?
Complete sentences?
Punctuation, capitalization, spelling, word-choice, word usage?
Length: (7) FULL pages (double-spaced, one inch margins, 11 point type)
NOTE:
**Your paper should be balanced between ( background, general research, and your PERSONAL insight and analysis.)
** Use reliable sources.
DUE : IN April 2nd.
Indirect Trauma in the Field Practicum:
Secondary Traumatic Stress, Vicarious Trauma,
and Compassion Fatigue Among Social Work Students
and Their Field Instructors
Carolyn Knight
A sample of BSW students and their field instructors was assessed for the presence
of indirect trauma, including secondary traumatic stress, vicarious trauma, and
compassion fatigue. Results indicated that students were at greater risk of experi-
encing vicarious trauma than their field instructors and research participants in
previous studies. Risk factors for stud.
Analysis on the Demand of Top Talent Introduction in Big Dat.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis on the Demand of Top Talent Introduction
in Big Data and Cloud Computing Field in China
Based on 3-F Method
Zhao Linjia, Huang Yuanxi, Wang Yinqiu, Liu Jia
National Academy of Innovation Strategy, China Association for Science and Technology, Beijing, P.R.China
Abstract—Big data and cloud computing, which can help
China to implement innovation-driven development strategy and
promote industrial transformation and upgrading, is a new and
emerging industrial field in China. Educated, productive and
healthy workforces are necessary factor to develop big data and
cloud computing industry, especially top talents are essential.
Therefore, a three-step method named 3-F has been introduced
to help describing the distribution of top talents globally and
making decision whether they are needed in China. The 3-F
method relies on calculating the brain gain index to analysis the
top talent introduction demand of a country. Firstly, Focus on the
high-frequency keywords of a specific field by retrieving the
highly cited papers. Secondly, using those keywords to Find out
the top talents of this specific field in the Web of Science. Finally,
Figure out the brain gain index to estimate whether a country
need to introduce top talents of a specific field abroad. The result
showed that the brain gain index value of China's big data and
cloud computing field was 2.61, which means China need to
introduce top talents abroad. Besides P. R. China, those top
talents mainly distributed in the United States, the United
Kingdom, Germany, Netherlands and France.
I. INTRODUCTION
Big data and cloud computing is a new and emerging
industrial field[1], and increasing widely used in China[2-4].
Talents’ experience is a source of technological mastery[5],
essentially for developing and using big data technologies.
Most European states consider the immigration of foreign
workers as an important factor to decelerate the decline of
national workforces[6]. Lots of universities and research
institutes have set up undergraduate and/or postgraduate
courses on data analytics for cultivating talents[7]. EMC
corporation think that vision, talent, and technology are
necessary elements to providing solutions to big data
management and analysis, insuring the big data success[8].
Bibliometrics research has appeared as early as 1917[9],
and has been proved an effective method for assessing or
identifying talents. Based on analyses of publication volume,
journals and their impact factors, most cited articles and
authors, preferred methods, and represented countries,
Gallardo-Gallardo et. al[10] assess whether talent management
should be approached as an embryonic, growth, or mature
phenomenon.
In this paper, we intend to analysis whether China need to
introduce top talents in the field of big data and cloud
computing by using bibliometrics. In section 2, the 3-F method
for top talent introduction demand analysis will be dis.
AnalysisLet s embrace ourdual identitiesCOMMUNITY COHE.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis
Let s embrace our
dual identities
COMMUNITY COHESION Absorbing British values does not
mean ignoring our different heritages, says Alan Riddell
Local heritage: many Britons retain distinctive cultural ana reiigious characteristics
Minorities and faith issues stir strong
emotions. The Archbishop of Canter-
bury's mistake in raising the issue of
how the (J K should accommodate the
needs of one of its larger minorities
was to mention Sharia law. with all the
fears it raises about executions, cut-
ting off hands, and lack of rights for
women. It's not surprising that politi-
cians were brisk to condemn him.
Questions involving the Muslim
community are complicated by the
tendency to use "Islam" and "terror-
ism"in thesame breath. An example of
such muddled thinking was the Royal
United Services Institute's warning
last month that "misplaced deference
to multiculturalism has failed to lay
down the line to immigrant communi-
ties", undermining the fight against
extremism (R&R, 29 February. pl6).
But while the treatment, real or per-
ceived, of parts of our Muslim commu-
nity may exacerbate problems in this
country, the origins of violent extrem-
ism are not domestic - and they cannot
be cured by "laying down the line".
Accommodating diverse cultures
and faiths will always be difficult: there
could be no meeting of minds between
the Hindu monks in Hertfordshire
who believed that the natural death of
their sacred eow should not have been
hastened, and the Royal Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
who were equally adamant that the
animal should be put down humanely.
When minorities are small, it is easy
forthe majority to ignore iheir customs.
The Orthodox Jewish communities in
north London have been accepted for
years. But their plans to create an 11
mile symbolic boundary.or Eruv.incor-
porating the Jewish community in
Golders Green met a decade of resist-
ance from people who felt that shared
space was beingcolonised.even though
the visible impact was minimal.
But we cannot ignore the increasing
diversity of our population. There has
been a steady increase in immigration
over the last 20 years and recent im-
migrants tend to be younger and so
have more children than the resident
population. Coupled with natural pop-
ulation growth, the proportion of our
population with a relatively recent
overseas heritage will continue to rise.
And the number of ethnically-mixed
neighbourhoods will grow with it.
There are areas where minorities
will soon be majorities, such as Birm-
ingham and several London boroughs.
But the internal migration patterns of
our minority population are similar to
those of the majorityionc in five neigh-
bourhoods in England are projected to
be ethnically mixed by 2011.
Of course, most of our diverse pop-
ulation will absorb the broad values
of British society, and there will be
many more children from mixed race
relationships. But it would be a mis-
take to ignore different heritages. We
cannot choos.
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari4MARK001W Mark.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari
4MARK001W Marketing
Principles: Report
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari
Company Coursework 1: Apple Inc.
Company Coursework 2: Ferrari S.p.A.
Module Leader: Norman Peng
Seminar Tutor: Norman Peng
Student: Paolo Savio Foderaro W1616642
Marketing Report �1
Norman
Highlight
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari
I. Introduction 3
II. PEST Analysis 4
III. Porter’s Five Forces Analysis 6
IV. SWOT and Positioning Strategy Analysis 8
V. Ansoff Matrix 10
VI. Ferrari’s Social Responsibility 11
VII.Referencing List 12
Marketing Report �2
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari
Ferrari S.p.A
(Ferrari Corporate)
“Give a kid a paper sheet and some colours and ask him to
draw a car, for certain the car will be red” (Enzo Ferrari)
I. Introduction
A prancing black horse on a yellow background is not something that could pass unnoticed.
Destined to become an icon of style, luxury and speed, the first Ferrari made its appearance to the
public in 1947, eight years after the foundation by the Italian entrepreneur Enzo Ferrari of Auto
Avio Costruzioni, what would come to be, later on, the well-known brand Ferrari.
Throughout the history the company divided itself into the developing and production of
racing cars, becoming one of the most successful racing team in the world, and of luxury cars
distinguishing itself for the excellence of the Italian manufacture. As a matter of fact Ferrari’s cars
are build following the ideal of perfection in terms of design, power and elegance conveyed by the
Marketing Report �3
Analysis of the Marketing outlook of Ferrari
founder, Enzo Ferrari, who was used to say: “The best Ferrari is the next one” (Enzo Ferrari, no
date).
From its foundation till today Ferrari’s mission statement has been to build unique sport
cars, symbols of Italian excellence both on the road and on track. At the end of 2015 the Italian
sport car manufacturer can praise more than 7500 cars sold with a presence in 62 worldwide
markets and a net revenues of 2,854 millions of euros (Ferrari, Annual Report 2015).
Herein, the purpose of the report will be to analyse in the first part the external factors that
influence the company’s business. Then I will take into account the industry within which the
company operates in. After that, I will examine the strategic position of the company in the market
and the marketing strategy utilised for its products, namely sport cars. Finally I will conclude taking
into consideration sustainability and ethic-related issues that the company is dealing with.
(Ferrari Corporate)
II. PEST Analysis
The first concern for a company’s business is to understand and deal with all the external
factors that could affect the company’s future performance. It is worth saying that all possible
external factors are not under control of.
Analysis of the Monetary Systems and International Finance with .docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis of the Monetary Systems and International Finance with Focus on China and Singapore
Name
Institutional Affiliation
Analysis of the Monetary Systems and International Finance with Focus on China and Singapore
Regional Economic Integration and Economic Cooperation
The Asian region is among the leading international economic powerhouses due to its economic potential and size with countries such as China and Singapore dominating the region. Nonetheless, the capacity constraints in various Asian nations and the diversity of the continent complicate the efforts to create a unified market in the Far East. Achieving success in Asia's regional economic integration requires high commitment levels among the member countries in addition to the effective implementation of various initiatives to facilitate economic cooperation (Rillo & Cruz, 2016). I consider China and Singapore as significant players in the global and Asian economies due to their volumes of traded goods and investments in their local and foreign markets. For instance, China leads in the Asian continent, and its economy is the second largest in the world based on its nominal gross domestic product as an indicator of market performance. On the other hand, Singapore's highly developed economy is among the most rapidly growing in the world, and this has allowed the country from a third-world nation into a developed country in about five decades. I also observe that variations scope and breadth exist in regional economic integration, and the economic integration in the East Asia region initially assumed a market-oriented cooperation process before transforming into an economic integration drive.
My understanding is that a trade bloc refers to a form of an agreement between different governments that reduce or eliminate trade barriers to increase trade volumes among the member states. I have also learned that the trade blocs can exist as independent agreements between specific countries or form components of regional organizations. The trade blocs can further be categorized as monetary and economic unions, common markets, customs unions, free trade areas, and preferential trading areas. In Asia, the intergovernmental agreements have resulted in some regional trade agreements as well as the formation of the ASEAN trading bloc. I noted that China and Singapore are currently members of the Association of South-East Nations trading block alongside eight other countries in Southeast Asia. The primary objectives of ASEAN include the facilitation of sociocultural, educational, military, political, and economic integration as well as promoting intergovernmental cooperation in the region (Berman & Haque, 2015). The first stated aim of ASEAN is enhancing the competitiveness of the region in the international market as a production base by eliminating non-tariff and tariff barriers within the member states. The second aim of ASEAN is increasing the volume of FDI's to the Southeast Asia .
Analysis of the Barrios Gomez, Agustin, et al. Mexico-US A New .docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis of the B
arrios Gomez, Agustin, et al.
Mexico-US: A New Beginning
. COMEXI, 2020.
Write a summary and included the relevance to globalization, trade, finance, and immigration for international economics.
1-2 pages double-spaced; include footnotes/reference sources.
.
Analysis of Literature ReviewFailure to develop key competencie.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis of Literature Review
Failure to develop key competencies and behaviors has been researched before through studying the workplace conflicts. In essence, workplace conflicts are inevitable mainly when employees are people from various backgrounds and different work styles that are brought together for the sake of shared business objectives. The history of organizations failing to develop competencies is quite long, and only a few studies have shown that about 30% of organizations have initiatives to improve behaviors among employees (Sperry, 2011). Previous have depicted several progressive organizations that use a leadership competency model to assist in outlining key skills and behaviors wanted by managers, supervisors, and executives.
Several questions remain unanswered about this subject, and they exist in some ways. First, the question is about the guilty of facilitation of workshops with management. It happens because organizations fail to identify and specify the essential competencies that apply to particular issues in the organization. Ideally, organizations need to shuffle and prioritize on the generic competencies as well as behaviors that would require management leaders to help in solving problems that may arise in the workplace (Sperry, 2011). Second, there is no proof of the competencies that matter to organizations. Indeed, there is must empirical data about the key behaviors that have the most significant effect on the engagement of employees, attraction, customer levels, and productivity of the employees in several organizations (Frisk & Larson, 2011).
The current best practices in dealing with this particular type of organization conflict are many and precisely based on the supervisors, managers, and executives. Develop towering strengths that would help in overshadowing weaknesses in the organization. Ideally, good leadership development always tries to magnify small natural strengths to highly energized strengths that would result in double improvement (Halász & Michel, 2011). The current best practice is the application of the competency models to assist leaders in improving their effectiveness, especially when dealing with employee behaviors in the organization.
Design Proposal and Outline
Topic of Training
The topic of training is using competency models for development and building of key competencies and behaviors in an organization.
Reason for the Choice
The topic is chosen because the primary purpose of the competency model is to assist leaders in the improvement of their effectiveness in developing key competencies and behaviors in an organization. The strengths cross-training is a common thing in an organization since it is closely associated with competency and behavior improvement (Sperry, 2011).
Subsequently, the topic is narrow enough to address in two-hour training since it is quite specific. The topic is based on enhancing the competency framework at the workplace which is indeed critical i.
Analysis Of Electronic Health Records System1C.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis Of Electronic Health Records System
1
Chyterria Daniels
Capella University
May 3, 2020
Introduction
Merit-founded Incentive Payment System (MIPS) is a platform for value-founded settlement under the Quality Payment Program (QPP). The system aims at fostering the current innovation and improvement in clinical operations. MIPS mean that the organization should rationalize Physician Quality Reporting System (PQRS) (Meeks & Singh, 2019). Meaningful use guidelines are certain facets of an HER system that providers will be needed to use in their organization.
2
MIPS denote Merit-founded Incentive Payment System.
It is a platform for value-founded settlement under the Quality Payment Program (QPP)
It aims at fostering the current innovation and improvement in clinical operations
MIPS means that the organization should rationalize Physician Quality Reporting System (PQRS)
Meaningful use guidelines are certain compliance facets of an HER system that providers will be needed to use in their organization.
It means that the organization should have its set meaningful use guidelines
Current State of Compliance
The organization has set technology in the ICU
EHR not integrated to accommodate patient’s needs
Application of computers to draw guidance and instructions on conditions
Availability of lab information system
No replacement of diagnosing equipments
Independence Medical Center’s Electronic Health Records (HER) system has complied with some set guidelines. For instance, the healthcare organization has set technology system in its intensive care units. In addition, there is use of computers to draw guidance and instructions regarding several conditions on patients. However, the organization has not obeyed some guidelines like the replacement of outdated diagnosing equipment and lack of integrating EHR to accommodate all patients’ needs (Boonstra & Vos, 2018).
3
Current EHR Used in the Organization
Laboratory Information System (LIS)
Computerized Physician Order Entry (CPOE)
Central Supply System
Pharmacy system
Picture Archiving and Communication System (PACS)
Independence Medical Center’s Electronic has set up various EHR systems for use in different departments to deliver healthcare services to patients. For instance, the organization has implemented PACS, which is a health check imaging technology which offers reasonable storage and expedient admission to images from numerous modalities (Data & Komorowski, 2017).
4
Evaluation of EHR
The electronic health record system used in the ambulatory system lacks integration to accommodate patient’s needs. The system does not alert physician on drug interactions and other warning. On another point, each department has its exclusive system making it hard to share information between staff members in various units (Boonstra & Vos, 2018). An effective EHR system should be in a position to enable information transmission to all staff.
Analysis of element, when we perform this skill we break up a whole .docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis of element, when we perform this skill we break up a whole into its constituent parts. It is the identification and separation of the prts or components that constitute a communicatio. we look at the communivation in details so as to determine its natura. The elements ir parts are then classified or labeled into categoties.
There are a total of 5 text. I need to make an outline of each text. The last 2 pages is an example of how it should be done. If there are any questions please let me know.
.
Analysis of a Career in Surgery
Student Name
Professor Williams
English 122 02H
Date Due
Outline
Thesis: This analysis will explore the education, training, and career of a Surgeon.
· Introduction
· Definition of Surgeon
· Qualities of a Surgeon
· Thesis, Purpose, and Audience
· Source and Scope of Research
· Career Analysis
· Education
· Undergraduate Degree
· Application Requirements
· Medical School
· Residency & Fellowship
· Life of a Surgeon
· Duties and Responsibilities
· Surgery
· Teaching
· Research
· Work/Life Balance
· Employment Prospects
· Career Growth
· Advancement Opportunities
· Pros and Cons
· Conclusion
· Summary of Findings
· Interpretation of Findings
· Recommendations
Analysis of a Career in Surgery
INTRODUCTION
A career as a surgeon is long, incredibly difficult, competitive, costly, and one of the most rewarding pursuits you can have in your life. Something not typically mentioned to aspiring pre-medical students is the complicated nature of applying to medical school and residency. Much more is required than just a set of good grades. Volunteer work in the community, leadership and research experience, writing and interviewing skills, are all necessary for a successful application to medical school. All of those things are required yet again, when applying to surgical residency.
Before digging into all those things, let’s look at the definition of a surgeon. The United States Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statisticsdescribes the surgical profession in the Occupational Outlook Handbook as the following: “Using a variety of instruments, a surgeon corrects physical deformities, repairs bone and tissue after injuries, or performs preventive or elective surgeries on patients.” This is a strict definition however; a more useful outlook would be to focus on what traits lend themselves to becoming a successful surgeon.
There is a useful list created by the American College of Surgeons (ACS), titled, “So You Want to Be A Surgeon: An Online Guide to Selecting and Matching with the Best Surgery Residency,” which aims at current medical students. The guide says that a surgeon should work well as a member of a team; enjoy quick patient outcomes; welcome increasing responsibility; excel at solving problems with quick thinking; be inspired by challenges; and love to learn new skills (American College of Surgeons). The ACS recommends looking into a surgical career if you believe some or all of those traits apply to you. However, there is no such thing as a “standard surgical resident” and the ACS points out that “surgeons are trained, not born.…Becoming a good surgeon is a lifelong process.”
For students interested in pursuing a surgical career, this analysis will explore the education, training, and career of a Surgeon. Information for objective analysis will be taken from multiple sources including article databases, government sources, a personal interview with an orthopedic surgeon, the American College of Sur.
Analysis Assignment -Major Artist ResearchInstructionsYo.docxgreg1eden90113
Analysis Assignment -
Major Artist Research
Instructions
You will select one of the major, heard-of artist mentioned in the textbook as a subject for your research paper.
Step 1: Research the artist and a theme within their work
This paper should be more than just being "about" the artist. More than a biography.
Identify a theme or central idea about the artist or his/her artwork (your thesis) as it relates to a theme explored in Module 4 (Part 4 of the textbook) and then build the paper around that idea.
Select an artist from the list below:
Ana Mendieta
Chuck Close
Robert Mapplethorpe
Faith Ringgold
Kehinde Wiley
Carrie Mae Weems
Judy Chicago
Cindy Sherman
Yasumasa Morimura
Shirin Neshat
The expectation is that the research should represent information from several sources (
at least four -- websites will only count as sources if they are online versions of print material
) and that any direct borrowing of wording from these sources will be indicated by quotation marks and listed on the works cited page.
Step 2: Write the analysis
Draft your thesis (remember, this is not a biography paper so your thesis needs to be about the art)
Research information about the artist and their background
Identify a common theme within the artist works
What is the context of their work? Cultural? Spiritual? Political? Historical?
Step 3: Before you submit... make sure that you have the following:
The analysis length should be a minimum of 3 pages. (Not including the Works Cited page)
The paper should meet normal standards for documentation (citations and works cited such as found in the Modern Language Association, 8th ed.).
Use MLA format (Times New Roman 12-point size font, double-spaced, appropriate in-text citations, Works Cited page, etc...)
At least four sources -- websites will only count as sources if they are online versions of print material
Similarity Report must within 0-10%
.
Instructions for Submissions thorugh G- Classroom.pptxJheel Barad
This presentation provides a briefing on how to upload submissions and documents in Google Classroom. It was prepared as part of an orientation for new Sainik School in-service teacher trainees. As a training officer, my goal is to ensure that you are comfortable and proficient with this essential tool for managing assignments and fostering student engagement.
Welcome to TechSoup New Member Orientation and Q&A (May 2024).pdfTechSoup
In this webinar you will learn how your organization can access TechSoup's wide variety of product discount and donation programs. From hardware to software, we'll give you a tour of the tools available to help your nonprofit with productivity, collaboration, financial management, donor tracking, security, and more.
The French Revolution, which began in 1789, was a period of radical social and political upheaval in France. It marked the decline of absolute monarchies, the rise of secular and democratic republics, and the eventual rise of Napoleon Bonaparte. This revolutionary period is crucial in understanding the transition from feudalism to modernity in Europe.
For more information, visit-www.vavaclasses.com
The Indian economy is classified into different sectors to simplify the analysis and understanding of economic activities. For Class 10, it's essential to grasp the sectors of the Indian economy, understand their characteristics, and recognize their importance. This guide will provide detailed notes on the Sectors of the Indian Economy Class 10, using specific long-tail keywords to enhance comprehension.
For more information, visit-www.vavaclasses.com
Unit 8 - Information and Communication Technology (Paper I).pdfThiyagu K
This slides describes the basic concepts of ICT, basics of Email, Emerging Technology and Digital Initiatives in Education. This presentations aligns with the UGC Paper I syllabus.
Read| The latest issue of The Challenger is here! We are thrilled to announce that our school paper has qualified for the NATIONAL SCHOOLS PRESS CONFERENCE (NSPC) 2024. Thank you for your unwavering support and trust. Dive into the stories that made us stand out!
The Roman Empire A Historical Colossus.pdfkaushalkr1407
The Roman Empire, a vast and enduring power, stands as one of history's most remarkable civilizations, leaving an indelible imprint on the world. It emerged from the Roman Republic, transitioning into an imperial powerhouse under the leadership of Augustus Caesar in 27 BCE. This transformation marked the beginning of an era defined by unprecedented territorial expansion, architectural marvels, and profound cultural influence.
The empire's roots lie in the city of Rome, founded, according to legend, by Romulus in 753 BCE. Over centuries, Rome evolved from a small settlement to a formidable republic, characterized by a complex political system with elected officials and checks on power. However, internal strife, class conflicts, and military ambitions paved the way for the end of the Republic. Julius Caesar’s dictatorship and subsequent assassination in 44 BCE created a power vacuum, leading to a civil war. Octavian, later Augustus, emerged victorious, heralding the Roman Empire’s birth.
Under Augustus, the empire experienced the Pax Romana, a 200-year period of relative peace and stability. Augustus reformed the military, established efficient administrative systems, and initiated grand construction projects. The empire's borders expanded, encompassing territories from Britain to Egypt and from Spain to the Euphrates. Roman legions, renowned for their discipline and engineering prowess, secured and maintained these vast territories, building roads, fortifications, and cities that facilitated control and integration.
The Roman Empire’s society was hierarchical, with a rigid class system. At the top were the patricians, wealthy elites who held significant political power. Below them were the plebeians, free citizens with limited political influence, and the vast numbers of slaves who formed the backbone of the economy. The family unit was central, governed by the paterfamilias, the male head who held absolute authority.
Culturally, the Romans were eclectic, absorbing and adapting elements from the civilizations they encountered, particularly the Greeks. Roman art, literature, and philosophy reflected this synthesis, creating a rich cultural tapestry. Latin, the Roman language, became the lingua franca of the Western world, influencing numerous modern languages.
Roman architecture and engineering achievements were monumental. They perfected the arch, vault, and dome, constructing enduring structures like the Colosseum, Pantheon, and aqueducts. These engineering marvels not only showcased Roman ingenuity but also served practical purposes, from public entertainment to water supply.
Model Attribute Check Company Auto PropertyCeline George
In Odoo, the multi-company feature allows you to manage multiple companies within a single Odoo database instance. Each company can have its own configurations while still sharing common resources such as products, customers, and suppliers.
How to Create Map Views in the Odoo 17 ERPCeline George
The map views are useful for providing a geographical representation of data. They allow users to visualize and analyze the data in a more intuitive manner.
Although it was so brilliantly finelight like white wi.docx
1. Although it was so brilliantly fine
light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques
had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you
ope
was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water
before you sip, and now and
again a leaf came drifting
touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel i
box that afternoon, shaken out the moth
life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to
me?" said the sad little
eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap
the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all
firm. It must have had a
knock, somehow. Never mind
when it was absolutely necessary... Little rog
Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have
taken it off and laid it on her
lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but
that came from walking,
she supposed. And when
something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than
last Sunday. And the
band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season
had b
the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it
was never the same. It
2. was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it
didn't care how it played if
there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor we
was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his
arms like a rooster about to
crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out
their cheeks and glared at
the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit
drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her
head and smiled.
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a
velvet coat, his hands
clasped over a huge carved walking
roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak.
This was disappointing, for
Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had
become really quite
expert, she thought, at listening as though she
lives just for a minute while they talked round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go
soon. Last Sunday, too,
hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife,
he w
Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole
time about how she ought
to wear spectacles; she knew she needed them; but that it was
no good getting any; they'd
be sure to break and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so pa
everything—gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears,
little pads inside the bridge.
http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org
3. MISS BRILL (1920)
By Katherine Mansfield
Although it was so brilliantly fine—the blue sky powdered with
gold and great spots of
light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques—Miss
Brill was glad that she
had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you
opened your mouth there
was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water
before you sip, and now and
again a leaf came drifting—from nowhere, from the sky. Miss
Brill put up her hand and
touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again.
She had taken it out of its
box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good
brush, and rubbed the
life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to
me?" said the sad little
eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from
the red eiderdown!... But
the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all
firm. It must have had a
knock, somehow. Never mind—a little dab of black sealing-wax
when the time came
when it was absolutely necessary... Little rogue! Yes, she really
felt like that about it.
Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have
taken it off and laid it on her
lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but
that came from walking,
she breathed, something light and sad—no, not sad, exactly
4. something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than
last Sunday. And the
band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season
had begun. For although
the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it
was never the same. It
was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it
didn't care how it played if
there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor
wearing a new coat, too? She
was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his
arms like a rooster about to
crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out
their cheeks and glared at
the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit—very pretty!—a
little chain of bright
drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her
head and smiled.
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a
velvet coat, his hands
clasped over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman,
sitting upright, with a
roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak.
This was disappointing, for
Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had
become really quite
expert, she thought, at listening as though she didn't listen, at
sitting in other people's
lives just for a minute while they talked round her.
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go
soon. Last Sunday, too,
hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife,
5. he w
Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole
time about how she ought
to wear spectacles; she knew she needed them; but that it was
no good getting any; they'd
be sure to break and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so
patient. He'd suggested
gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads
inside the bridge.
1
the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of
Miss Brill was glad that she
ned your mouth there
was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water
before you sip, and now and
from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and
t again. She had taken it out of its
powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the
life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to
me?" said the sad little
at her again from the red eiderdown!... But
the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all
firm. It must have had a
wax when the time came—
ue! Yes, she really felt like that about it.
Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have
taken it off and laid it on her
6. lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but
that came from walking,
no, not sad, exactly—
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than
last Sunday. And the
egun. For although
the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it
was never the same. It
was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it
didn't care how it played if
aring a new coat, too? She
was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his
arms like a rooster about to
crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out
their cheeks and glared at
a little chain of bright
drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her
head and smiled.
Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a
velvet coat, his hands
old woman, sitting upright, with a
roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak.
This was disappointing, for
Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had
become really quite
didn't listen, at sitting in other people's
She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go
7. soon. Last Sunday, too,
hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife,
he wearing a dreadful
Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole
time about how she ought
to wear spectacles; she knew she needed them; but that it was
no good getting any; they'd
tient. He'd suggested
gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads
inside the bridge.
No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be sliding down
my nose!" Miss Brill had
wanted to shake her.
The old people sat on the bench, s
to watch. To and fro, in front of the flower
groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to buy a handful of
flowers from the old beggar
who had his tray fixed to the railings. Little children ran among
them, swooping and
laughing; little boys with big white silk bows under their chins,
little girls, little French
dolls, dressed up in velvet and lace. And sometimes a tiny
staggerer came suddenly
rocking into the open from under the trees, stopped, stared, as
suddenly sat down "flop,"
until its small high-stepping mother, like a young hen, rushed
scolding to its rescue. Other
people sat on the benches and green chairs, but they were nearly
always the same, Sunday
after Sunday, and—Miss Brill had often noticed
8. nearly all of them. They were odd, silent, nearly all old, and
from the way they stared
they looked as though they'd just come from dark little rooms or
even
Behind the rotunda the slender trees with yellow leaves down
drooping, and through
them just a line of sea, and beyond the blue sky with gold
Tum-tum-tum tiddle-um! tiddle
Two young girls in red cam
laughed and paired and went off arm
passed, gravely, leading beautiful smoke
A beautiful woman came along
after to hand them to her, and she took them and threw them
away as if they'd been
poisoned. Dear me! Miss Brill didn't know whether to admire
that or not! And now an
ermine toque and a gentleman in gr
and she was wearing the ermine toque she'd bought when her
hair was yellow. Now
everything, her hair, her face, even her eyes, was the same
colour as the shabby ermine,
and her hand, in its cleane
she was so pleased to see him
that afternoon. She described where she'd been
sea. The day was so char
shook his head, lighted a cigarette, slowly breathed a great deep
puff into her face, and
even while she was still talking and laughing, flicked the match
away and walked on. The
ermine toque was alone; she smiled more brightly than ever. But
even the band seemed to
know what she was feeling and played more softly, played
tenderly, and the drum beat,
9. "The Brute! The Brute!" over and over. What would she do?
What was going to happen
now? But as Miss Brill wondered, the ermine toque turned,
raised her hand as though
she'd seen some one else, much nicer, just over there, and
pattered away. And the band
changed again and played more quickly, more gayly than ever,
and the old couple on
Miss Brill's seat got up and marched away, and such a funny old
man with long whiskers
hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over
by four girls walking
abreast.
Oh, how fascinating it was! How she enjoyed it! How she loved
sitting here, watching it
all! It was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Who could
believe the sky at the back
wasn't painted? But it wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on
solemn and then slowly
trotted off, like a little "theatre" dog, a little dog that had been
drugged, that
http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org
No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be sliding down
my nose!" Miss Brill had
The old people sat on the bench, still as statues. Never mind,
there was always the crowd
to watch. To and fro, in front of the flower-beds and the band
rotunda, the couples and
groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to buy a handful of
10. flowers from the old beggar
d to the railings. Little children ran among them, swooping and
laughing; little boys with big white silk bows under their chins,
little girls, little French
dolls, dressed up in velvet and lace. And sometimes a tiny
staggerer came suddenly
e open from under the trees, stopped, stared, as suddenly sat
down "flop,"
stepping mother, like a young hen, rushed scolding to its rescue.
Other
people sat on the benches and green chairs, but they were nearly
always the same, Sunday
Miss Brill had often noticed—there was something funny about
nearly all of them. They were odd, silent, nearly all old, and
from the way they stared
they looked as though they'd just come from dark little rooms or
even—
ehind the rotunda the slender trees with yellow leaves down
drooping, and through
them just a line of sea, and beyond the blue sky with gold-
veined clouds.
um! tiddle-um! tum tiddley-um tum ta! blew the band.
Two young girls in red came by and two young soldiers in blue
met them, and they
laughed and paired and went off arm-in-arm. Two peasant
women with funny straw hats
passed, gravely, leading beautiful smoke-coloured donkeys. A
cold, pale nun hurried by.
A beautiful woman came along and dropped her bunch of
11. violets, and a little boy ran
after to hand them to her, and she took them and threw them
away as if they'd been
poisoned. Dear me! Miss Brill didn't know whether to admire
that or not! And now an
ermine toque and a gentleman in grey met just in front of her.
He was tall, stiff, dignified,
and she was wearing the ermine toque she'd bought when her
hair was yellow. Now
everything, her hair, her face, even her eyes, was the same
colour as the shabby ermine,
and her hand, in its cleaned glove, lifted to dab her lips, was a
tiny yellowish paw. Oh,
she was so pleased to see him—delighted! She rather thought
they were going to meet
that afternoon. She described where she'd been—everywhere,
here, there, along by the
sea. The day was so charming—didn't he agree? And wouldn't
he, perhaps?... But he
shook his head, lighted a cigarette, slowly breathed a great deep
puff into her face, and
even while she was still talking and laughing, flicked the match
away and walked on. The
one; she smiled more brightly than ever. But even the band
seemed to
know what she was feeling and played more softly, played
tenderly, and the drum beat,
"The Brute! The Brute!" over and over. What would she do?
What was going to happen
rill wondered, the ermine toque turned, raised her hand as
though
she'd seen some one else, much nicer, just over there, and
pattered away. And the band
changed again and played more quickly, more gayly than ever,
12. and the old couple on
t up and marched away, and such a funny old man with long
whiskers
hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over
by four girls walking
Oh, how fascinating it was! How she enjoyed it! How she loved
sitting here, watching it
t was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Who could believe
the sky at the back
wasn't painted? But it wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on
solemn and then slowly
trotted off, like a little "theatre" dog, a little dog that had been
drugged, that
2
No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be sliding down
my nose!" Miss Brill had
till as statues. Never mind, there was always the crowd
beds and the band rotunda, the couples and
groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to buy a handful of
flowers from the old beggar
d to the railings. Little children ran among them, swooping and
laughing; little boys with big white silk bows under their chins,
little girls, little French
dolls, dressed up in velvet and lace. And sometimes a tiny
staggerer came suddenly
e open from under the trees, stopped, stared, as suddenly sat
down "flop,"
13. stepping mother, like a young hen, rushed scolding to its rescue.
Other
people sat on the benches and green chairs, but they were nearly
always the same, Sunday
there was something funny about
nearly all of them. They were odd, silent, nearly all old, and
from the way they stared
—even cupboards!
ehind the rotunda the slender trees with yellow leaves down
drooping, and through
veined clouds.
um tum ta! blew the band.
e by and two young soldiers in blue met them, and they
arm. Two peasant women with funny straw hats
coloured donkeys. A cold, pale nun hurried by.
and dropped her bunch of violets, and a little boy ran
after to hand them to her, and she took them and threw them
away as if they'd been
poisoned. Dear me! Miss Brill didn't know whether to admire
that or not! And now an
ey met just in front of her. He was tall, stiff, dignified,
and she was wearing the ermine toque she'd bought when her
hair was yellow. Now
everything, her hair, her face, even her eyes, was the same
colour as the shabby ermine,
d glove, lifted to dab her lips, was a tiny yellowish paw. Oh,
delighted! She rather thought they were going to meet
14. everywhere, here, there, along by the
didn't he agree? And wouldn't he, perhaps?... But he
shook his head, lighted a cigarette, slowly breathed a great deep
puff into her face, and
even while she was still talking and laughing, flicked the match
away and walked on. The
one; she smiled more brightly than ever. But even the band
seemed to
know what she was feeling and played more softly, played
tenderly, and the drum beat,
"The Brute! The Brute!" over and over. What would she do?
What was going to happen
rill wondered, the ermine toque turned, raised her hand as
though
she'd seen some one else, much nicer, just over there, and
pattered away. And the band
changed again and played more quickly, more gayly than ever,
and the old couple on
t up and marched away, and such a funny old man with long
whiskers
hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over
by four girls walking
Oh, how fascinating it was! How she enjoyed it! How she loved
sitting here, watching it
t was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Who could believe
the sky at the back
wasn't painted? But it wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on
solemn and then slowly
trotted off, like a little "theatre" dog, a little dog that had been
drugged, that Miss Brill
15. discovered what it was that made it so exciting. They were all
on the stage. They weren't
only the audience, not only looking on; they were acting. Even
she had a part and came
every Sunday. No doubt somebody would have noticed if she
hadn't bee
part of the performance after all. How strange she'd never
thought of it like that before!
And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from
home at just the same
time each week—so as not to be late for the performance
had quite a queer, shy feeling at telling her English pupils how
she spent her Sunday
afternoons. No wonder! Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud. She
was on the stage. She
thought of the old invalid gentleman to whom she read the new
week while he slept in the garden. She had got quite used to the
frail head on the cotton
pillow, the hollowed eyes, the open mouth and the high pinched
nose. If he'd been dead
she mightn't have noticed for weeks; she wouldn't have
was having the paper read to him by an actress! "An actress!"
The old head lifted; two
points of light quivered in the old eyes. "An actress
the newspaper as though it were the manuscript of
been an actress for a long time."
The band had been having a rest. Now they started again. And
what they played was
warm, sunny, yet there was just a faint chill
no, not sadness—a something that made you want to sing. The
tune lifted, lifted, the light
16. shone; and it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of
them, all the whole
company, would begin singing. The young ones, the laughing
ones who were moving
together, they would begin, and the men's voices, very resolute
and brave, would join
them. And then she too, she too, and the others on the benches
a kind of accompaniment
beautiful—moving... And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears and
she looked smiling at all
the other members of the company. Yes, we understand, we
understand, she thought
though what they understood she didn't know.
Just at that moment a boy and girl came and sat down wher
They were beautifully dressed; they were in love. The hero and
heroine, of course, just
arrived from his father's yacht. And still soundlessly singing,
still with that trembling
smile, Miss Brill prepared to listen.
"No, not now," said the girl. "Not here, I can't."
"But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?"
asked the boy. "Why does
she come here at all—who wants her? Why doesn't she keep her
silly old mug at home?"
"It's her fu-ur which is so funny," giggled
"Ah, be off with you!" said the boy in an angry whisper. Then:
"Tell me, ma petite
chere—"
"No, not here," said the girl. "Not
17. On her way home she usually bought a slice of honey
Sunday treat. Sometimes there was an almond in her slice,
sometimes not. It made a great
difference. If there was an almond it was like carrying home a
tiny present
http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org
discovered what it was that made it so exciting. They were all
on the stage. They weren't
only the audience, not only looking on; they were acting. Even
she had a part and came
every Sunday. No doubt somebody would have noticed if she
hadn't bee
part of the performance after all. How strange she'd never
thought of it like that before!
And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from
home at just the same
so as not to be late for the performance—and it also explained
why she
had quite a queer, shy feeling at telling her English pupils how
she spent her Sunday
afternoons. No wonder! Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud. She
was on the stage. She
thought of the old invalid gentleman to whom she read the
newspaper four afternoons a
week while he slept in the garden. She had got quite used to the
frail head on the cotton
pillow, the hollowed eyes, the open mouth and the high pinched
nose. If he'd been dead
she mightn't have noticed for weeks; she wouldn't have minded.
But suddenly he knew he
18. was having the paper read to him by an actress! "An actress!"
The old head lifted; two
points of light quivered in the old eyes. "An actress—are ye?"
And Miss Brill smoothed
the newspaper as though it were the manuscript of her part and
said gently; "Yes, I have
been an actress for a long time."
The band had been having a rest. Now they started again. And
what they played was
warm, sunny, yet there was just a faint chill—a something, what
was it?
a something that made you want to sing. The tune lifted, lifted,
the light
shone; and it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of
them, all the whole
company, would begin singing. The young ones, the laughing
ones who were moving
would begin, and the men's voices, very resolute and brave,
would join
them. And then she too, she too, and the others on the
benches—they would come in with
a kind of accompaniment—something low, that scarcely rose or
fell, something so
. And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears and she looked smiling
at all
the other members of the company. Yes, we understand, we
understand, she thought
though what they understood she didn't know.
Just at that moment a boy and girl came and sat down where the
old couple had been.
They were beautifully dressed; they were in love. The hero and
19. heroine, of course, just
arrived from his father's yacht. And still soundlessly singing,
still with that trembling
smile, Miss Brill prepared to listen.
," said the girl. "Not here, I can't."
"But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?"
asked the boy. "Why does
who wants her? Why doesn't she keep her silly old mug at
home?"
ur which is so funny," giggled the girl. "It's exactly like a fried
whiting."
"Ah, be off with you!" said the boy in an angry whisper. Then:
"Tell me, ma petite
"No, not here," said the girl. "Not yet."
On her way home she usually bought a slice of honey-cake at
the baker'
Sunday treat. Sometimes there was an almond in her slice,
sometimes not. It made a great
difference. If there was an almond it was like carrying home a
tiny present
3
discovered what it was that made it so exciting. They were all
on the stage. They weren't
only the audience, not only looking on; they were acting. Even
she had a part and came
every Sunday. No doubt somebody would have noticed if she
hadn't been there; she was
part of the performance after all. How strange she'd never
20. thought of it like that before!
And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from
home at just the same
also explained why she
had quite a queer, shy feeling at telling her English pupils how
she spent her Sunday
afternoons. No wonder! Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud. She
was on the stage. She
spaper four afternoons a
week while he slept in the garden. She had got quite used to the
frail head on the cotton
pillow, the hollowed eyes, the open mouth and the high pinched
nose. If he'd been dead
minded. But suddenly he knew he
was having the paper read to him by an actress! "An actress!"
The old head lifted; two
are ye?" And Miss Brill smoothed
her part and said gently; "Yes, I have
The band had been having a rest. Now they started again. And
what they played was
a something, what was it?—not sadness—
a something that made you want to sing. The tune lifted, lifted,
the light
shone; and it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of
them, all the whole
company, would begin singing. The young ones, the laughing
ones who were moving
would begin, and the men's voices, very resolute and brave,
would join
21. they would come in with
something low, that scarcely rose or fell, something so
. And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears and she looked smiling
at all
the other members of the company. Yes, we understand, we
understand, she thought—
e the old couple had been.
They were beautifully dressed; they were in love. The hero and
heroine, of course, just
arrived from his father's yacht. And still soundlessly singing,
still with that trembling
"But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?"
asked the boy. "Why does
who wants her? Why doesn't she keep her silly old mug at
home?"
the girl. "It's exactly like a fried whiting."
"Ah, be off with you!" said the boy in an angry whisper. Then:
"Tell me, ma petite
cake at the baker's. It was her
Sunday treat. Sometimes there was an almond in her slice,
sometimes not. It made a great
difference. If there was an almond it was like carrying home a
tiny present—a surprise—
something that might very well not have been there. She hurried
22. on
and struck the match for the kettle in quite a dashing way.
But to-day she passed the baker's by, climbed the stairs, went
into the little dark room
her room like a cupboard—
time. The box that the fur came out of was on the bed. She
unclasped the necklet quickly;
quickly, without looking, laid it inside. But when she put the lid
on she thought she heard
something crying.
http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org
something that might very well not have been there. She hurried
on the almond Sundays
and struck the match for the kettle in quite a dashing way.
day she passed the baker's by, climbed the stairs, went into the
little dark room
—and sat down on the red eiderdown. She sat there for a long
ime. The box that the fur came out of was on the bed. She
unclasped the necklet quickly;
quickly, without looking, laid it inside. But when she put the lid
on she thought she heard
4
the almond Sundays
day she passed the baker's by, climbed the stairs, went into the
little dark room—
23. and sat down on the red eiderdown. She sat there for a long
ime. The box that the fur came out of was on the bed. She
unclasped the necklet quickly;
quickly, without looking, laid it inside. But when she put the lid
on she thought she heard