The Story of An Hour Kate Chopin Knowing that Mrs. Mal.docxssusera34210
The Story of An Hour
Kate Chopin
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 some one 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 stay ...
The Story of An Hour Kate Chopin Knowing that Mrs. Mal.docxssusera34210
The Story of An Hour
Kate Chopin
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 some one 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 stay ...
due by 1130 pmAlso answer reading response.Reading re.docxastonrenna
due by 11:30 pm
Also answer reading response.
Reading response:
Pick out at least five phrases which you think are especially important to the story (what you might mark on a printed text.) Briefly describe why you chose each.
What questions about character or motivation or plot does this story leave in your mind?
see the link below. along with instructions
"Story of an Hour" Link to Story
Instructions
Use 250 words for each question. You must read "Story of an Hour" to answer these questions. The story can be found here:
"Story of an Hour" Link to Story
See study text in RED after selecting the link go to the bottom of the page to see the "study text" and "exploring the story"
then you will answer a few other questions.
"The Story of An Hour"
Kate Chopin Bio
Webtext prepared by
Ann Woodlief
; click on the marked phrases for notes
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 some one 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 sk ...
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tonight 65 at 1130pm est)Afte.docxrjoseph5
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tonight 6/5 at 11:30pm est)
After reading the chapter titled "Fiction As Genre," in a 150-200 word response (200 words in total not per question), address the following questions. Make sure to support your points with a secondary source from the library databases.
1 . How is Mrs. Mallard ' s character developed? Do you see examples of exposition, where the narrator simply tells us information about the protagonist? In addition, does Chopin portray particular emotional responses, thoughts, and actions to reveal Mrs. Mallard ' s character? If so, how so? How does she employ point of view in this story?
2. What is your impression of Brently Mallard? What elements of the story generate this impression?
3. How is setting (both the historical period and the physical atmosphere of the story) used to contribute to the story ' s meaning?
4 . What is Mrs. Mallard ' s social class? What clues lead you to this conclusion?
5. What is the story ' s central conflict? Does Mrs. Mallard change, as we might expect a protagonist to do?
6. What are the important themes of this story?
Kate Chopin
The Story of an Hour
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 some one 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 cri.
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.
The Story of An HourKate Chopin (1894)Knowing that Mrs. Mall.docxchristalgrieg
"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 some one 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 hte 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 the coursing blood ...
Read Trifles” and View the Film Adaptation (due TONIGHT) Pick on.docxhoward651
Read: “Trifles” and View the Film Adaptation (due TONIGHT) Pick one group
https://youtu.be/zGJTHi0rliA
7.0. A Jury of Her Peers by Susan K. Glaspell (Director: Sally Heckel)
Group A: What sort of relationship forms between Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Peters? What impact does the never-glimpsed Mrs. Wright have on this relationship? Explain the use of narrative structure in "Trifles," focusing particularly on the notion of "resolution." How does the plot resolve itself? How does this resolution differ from the expected outcome of the story expressed by the townsmen looking for evidence of the crime?
Group B: The question of ethics arises in regards to the way the men and the women approach the crime. Compare the approach of the townsmen to Minnie Wright to that of the townswomen who accompany the men on their search for evidence of the crime. What drives the women to make the choice they make?
Group C: Minnie Wright never appears in the story, but we learn much about her motives and traits from the other characters. What are the motives that possibly compelled Minnie Write to kill her husband? How do we come to know them during the course of the story?
Group D: What causes the men to overlook the evidence found by the women in the play? Why would Glaspell set up the story in this way? In other words, what is her point for having the men fail in their task where the women succeed? What is the relationship of the characters involved in the action of the play to the Wright family? What do they reveal to us about the Wrights?
Group E: Although "Trifles" was written almost one hundred years ago, it possesses contemporary attitudes about women that has led many people to refer to it as a feminist or pro-woman story. What elements or occurrences in the play would produce this response in a reader?
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tomorrow at 10pm)
After reading the chapter titled "Fiction As Genre," in a 150-200 word response, address the following questions. Make sure to support your points with a secondary source from the library databases.
1 . How is Mrs. Mallard ' s character developed? Do you see examples of exposition, where the narrator simply tells us information about the protagonist? In addition, does Chopin portray particular emotional responses, thoughts, and actions to reveal Mrs. Mallard ' s character? If so, how so? How does she employ point of view in this story?
2. What is your impression of Brently Mallard? What elements of the story generate this impression?
3. How is setting (both the historical period and the physical atmosphere of the story) used to contribute to the story ' s meaning?
4 . What is Mrs. Mallard ' s social class? What clues lead you to this conclusion?
5. What is the story ' s central conflict? Does Mrs. Mallard change, as we might expect a protagonist to do?
6. What are the important themes of this story?
Kate Chopin
The Story of an Hour
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with.
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discoursejenkinsmandie
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discourse of one speaker. It represents what someone might speak aloud in a situation in which there are listeners although the listeners do not speak.
Choose one of these stories to write a monologue, including background of the author.
Research the author’s background and relate in two or three paragraphs how his or her writings were meant to affect society. This should go at the top of the page, then the monologue.
Be sure to include a Works Cited at the bottom of the monologue; you will not need an outline.
Compose a one-page monologue. It should illustrate personality traits and guiding values of a character in the story in a creative fashion.
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discourse of one speaker. It represents what someone might speak aloud in a situation in which there are listeners although the listeners do not speak.
Choose one of these stories to write a monologue.
Research the author’s background and relate in two or three paragraphs how his or her writings were meant to affect society. This should go at the top of the page, then the monologue.
Be sure to include a Works Cited at the bottom of each monologue; you will not need an outline.
Compose a one-page monologue. It should illustrate personality traits and guiding values of a character in the story in a creative fashion.
The Story of an Hour
by Kate Chopin
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 some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there t ...
due by 1130 pmAlso answer reading response.Reading re.docxastonrenna
due by 11:30 pm
Also answer reading response.
Reading response:
Pick out at least five phrases which you think are especially important to the story (what you might mark on a printed text.) Briefly describe why you chose each.
What questions about character or motivation or plot does this story leave in your mind?
see the link below. along with instructions
"Story of an Hour" Link to Story
Instructions
Use 250 words for each question. You must read "Story of an Hour" to answer these questions. The story can be found here:
"Story of an Hour" Link to Story
See study text in RED after selecting the link go to the bottom of the page to see the "study text" and "exploring the story"
then you will answer a few other questions.
"The Story of An Hour"
Kate Chopin Bio
Webtext prepared by
Ann Woodlief
; click on the marked phrases for notes
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 some one 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 sk ...
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tonight 65 at 1130pm est)Afte.docxrjoseph5
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tonight 6/5 at 11:30pm est)
After reading the chapter titled "Fiction As Genre," in a 150-200 word response (200 words in total not per question), address the following questions. Make sure to support your points with a secondary source from the library databases.
1 . How is Mrs. Mallard ' s character developed? Do you see examples of exposition, where the narrator simply tells us information about the protagonist? In addition, does Chopin portray particular emotional responses, thoughts, and actions to reveal Mrs. Mallard ' s character? If so, how so? How does she employ point of view in this story?
2. What is your impression of Brently Mallard? What elements of the story generate this impression?
3. How is setting (both the historical period and the physical atmosphere of the story) used to contribute to the story ' s meaning?
4 . What is Mrs. Mallard ' s social class? What clues lead you to this conclusion?
5. What is the story ' s central conflict? Does Mrs. Mallard change, as we might expect a protagonist to do?
6. What are the important themes of this story?
Kate Chopin
The Story of an Hour
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 some one 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 cri.
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.
The Story of An HourKate Chopin (1894)Knowing that Mrs. Mall.docxchristalgrieg
"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 some one 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 hte 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 the coursing blood ...
Read Trifles” and View the Film Adaptation (due TONIGHT) Pick on.docxhoward651
Read: “Trifles” and View the Film Adaptation (due TONIGHT) Pick one group
https://youtu.be/zGJTHi0rliA
7.0. A Jury of Her Peers by Susan K. Glaspell (Director: Sally Heckel)
Group A: What sort of relationship forms between Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Peters? What impact does the never-glimpsed Mrs. Wright have on this relationship? Explain the use of narrative structure in "Trifles," focusing particularly on the notion of "resolution." How does the plot resolve itself? How does this resolution differ from the expected outcome of the story expressed by the townsmen looking for evidence of the crime?
Group B: The question of ethics arises in regards to the way the men and the women approach the crime. Compare the approach of the townsmen to Minnie Wright to that of the townswomen who accompany the men on their search for evidence of the crime. What drives the women to make the choice they make?
Group C: Minnie Wright never appears in the story, but we learn much about her motives and traits from the other characters. What are the motives that possibly compelled Minnie Write to kill her husband? How do we come to know them during the course of the story?
Group D: What causes the men to overlook the evidence found by the women in the play? Why would Glaspell set up the story in this way? In other words, what is her point for having the men fail in their task where the women succeed? What is the relationship of the characters involved in the action of the play to the Wright family? What do they reveal to us about the Wrights?
Group E: Although "Trifles" was written almost one hundred years ago, it possesses contemporary attitudes about women that has led many people to refer to it as a feminist or pro-woman story. What elements or occurrences in the play would produce this response in a reader?
Story of an Hour Assignment (due tomorrow at 10pm)
After reading the chapter titled "Fiction As Genre," in a 150-200 word response, address the following questions. Make sure to support your points with a secondary source from the library databases.
1 . How is Mrs. Mallard ' s character developed? Do you see examples of exposition, where the narrator simply tells us information about the protagonist? In addition, does Chopin portray particular emotional responses, thoughts, and actions to reveal Mrs. Mallard ' s character? If so, how so? How does she employ point of view in this story?
2. What is your impression of Brently Mallard? What elements of the story generate this impression?
3. How is setting (both the historical period and the physical atmosphere of the story) used to contribute to the story ' s meaning?
4 . What is Mrs. Mallard ' s social class? What clues lead you to this conclusion?
5. What is the story ' s central conflict? Does Mrs. Mallard change, as we might expect a protagonist to do?
6. What are the important themes of this story?
Kate Chopin
The Story of an Hour
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with.
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discoursejenkinsmandie
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discourse of one speaker. It represents what someone might speak aloud in a situation in which there are listeners although the listeners do not speak.
Choose one of these stories to write a monologue, including background of the author.
Research the author’s background and relate in two or three paragraphs how his or her writings were meant to affect society. This should go at the top of the page, then the monologue.
Be sure to include a Works Cited at the bottom of the monologue; you will not need an outline.
Compose a one-page monologue. It should illustrate personality traits and guiding values of a character in the story in a creative fashion.
By definition, a monologue is a composition that gives the discourse of one speaker. It represents what someone might speak aloud in a situation in which there are listeners although the listeners do not speak.
Choose one of these stories to write a monologue.
Research the author’s background and relate in two or three paragraphs how his or her writings were meant to affect society. This should go at the top of the page, then the monologue.
Be sure to include a Works Cited at the bottom of each monologue; you will not need an outline.
Compose a one-page monologue. It should illustrate personality traits and guiding values of a character in the story in a creative fashion.
The Story of an Hour
by Kate Chopin
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 some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there t ...
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Ethnobotany in herbal drug evaluation,
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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.
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.
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2. 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 some one
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
4. 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
the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy
that held her. A clear and
exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as
trivial.
She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind,
tender hands folded in death;
the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed
and gray and dead. But she saw
beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come
that would belong to her
absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in
welcome.
There would be no one to live for her during those coming
years; she would live for herself.
There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind
6. Kate Chopin’s “The Story of an Hour” originally published
1894.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her.
Spring days, and summer days,
and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a
quick prayer that life might be long.
It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life
might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's
importunities. There was a feverish
triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a
goddess of Victory. She clasped
her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs.
Richards stood waiting for them at the
bottom.
Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was
Brently Mallard who entered, a
little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and
umbrella. He had been far from the
scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been
one. He stood amazed at Josephine's
piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the
view of his wife.
7. But Richards was too late.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart
disease—of joy that kills.