The Hellenic Period Essays - Ancient Greek Philosophers, Parmenides

The Hellenic Period During the Greek Golden Age, craftsmanship and reasoning communicated hellenic weltanschauung, their extraordinary point of view toward the world and lifestyle. Through crafted by specialists, dramatists, and savants, one can see the two sides of the tangled frameworks of the world, for example, great versus insidious, request versus confusion, security versus transition, relativism versus absolutism and equalization and agreement. The Greeks were realists. They embraced the philosophical convention which says that physical issue is the main reality known to mankind; everything else, including thought, feeling, mind and will can be clarified regarding physical laws. Their realism was communicated in an exorbitant respect for common, excellent material things and concerns. They utilized their craft to show the wonders of humankind and man. The stone workers of the Golden Age intended to make effortless, solid and entirely framed figures. Their craft demonstrated normal positions and k een articulations instead of dynamic fine arts. Their norms of request and parity became guidelines for old style craftsmanship in western human advancement. The Greeks were pleased with their sanctuaries and other design, made to respect the divine beings and improve the polis (city-state). Their celebrated compositional styles were the overwhelming Doric segments and the slim looked over Ionian sections. The Parthenon, the Greek sanctuary for the goddess Athena, is a flawless case of evenness and extent. The sides of the Parthenon give an optical figment of ideal equalization on all sides. Their longing for balance in workmanship and design speaks to the equalization of the world; request and balance are communicated in the straightforwardness of lines and shapes. The subsequent generally structure cooperates to accomplish congruity. In antiquated Greece, open dramatization was more than amusement. It was a type of government funded training. It managed issues of significance to t he individuals, for example, the authority of the pioneers, the intensity of the individuals, inquiries of equity, ethical quality, wars, harmony, the obligations of the divine beings, family life and city living. Aeschylus expounded on the rages and how they rebuffed man for bad behaviors. This shows he accepted that disarray would be rebuffed in light of the fact that request (and law) is the perfect state. Sophocles is most popular for his plays of Oedipus. Those plays managed family and community steadfastness. The Greeks stressed, especially in their plays, the significance of faithfulness as an objective to take a stab at. We gain proficiency with a great deal about Greek perspectives through their way of thinking, which truly implies the adoration for information. The Greeks taught through a progression of inquiries and answers, so as to all the more likely instruct about existence and the universe. The primary savant was Thales. He had confidence in absolutism and endless is sue. He said that water was the first issue and that without it, there would be no life. Parmenides expressed that security and changelessness were the hidden states of the universe. He accepted that change is just a dream and that one's faculties can just handle shallow real factors of progress. Heroditus contended with Parmenides saying that change was the fundamental state of the real world. He further guaranteed that all lastingness was bogus. Therefore he considered things to be normally being in transition instead of a steady state. Democritus contended with both Parmenides and Heroditus. He demanded that there is not much and that solitary issue existed. He at that point proceeded to state that everything is made of minimal undetectable particles, snared in various game plans. He was an atomist. The Greek rationalists proceeded to scrutinize the idea of being and the importance of life. Pythagoras was the primary metaphysicist, one who concentrates past physical presence. He had faith in a division among soul and body, a restriction among great and insidious and among conflict and amicability. In the fifth century, the Greeks gained from Sophists, who accepted that the perspectives on society are gauges and the sole estimation of good, truth, equity and excellence. Protagoras was a critic. He said that, man is the proportion of all things. He put stock in a steady transition, and that nothing is totally right or wrong, however subject to change. His view is a lot of like that held by Parmenides. The scholars at that point posed an inquiry, for example, what might occur if things that weren't right were seen by society as satisfactory? What, for

Becoming an Actor Essay Example for Free

Turning into an Actor Essay There are numerous individuals who fantasy about being an entertainer/on-screen character and want to make it into Hollywood sometime in the not so distant future. While acting may appear to be simple, it takes a ton of difficult work and commitment. It isnt until you are in front of an audience before an enormous group that you may understand how intense it truly is. Best on-screen characters have an energy for acting (its what they love to would and like to do) so this is one of the key factors in turning into an entertainer. You should need to act and show that you are in it to win it. A decent on-screen character/on-screen character must ready to give all their time and vitality into acting whether its for a phase lay or an up and coming film. Being an on-screen character is like working a fulltime Job so you should reliable and persevering (regardless of whether requires you working hours one after another) to excel. To turn into an entertainer, you should be alarm and brief by demonstrating the chief you are dependable and can deal with whatever is given to them. This mean retaining your lines and appear prior to tryouts and ready to give 110% of you exertion. An on-screen character must be OK with themselves. You should be certain about who are and center around what its you need (your objectives). The attitude of an on-screen character should e Im the star and the world is my crowd. In the event that an on-screen character accepts this, they will face challenge/opportunity. One trait of an on-screen character must have is open talking. Usually individuals dread talking before individuals, regardless of whether its a little or huge gathering, yet the best way to comprehending this issue is confronting dread itself head on. There are classes for this or you would possible be able to have a go at talking others in huge groups when vital. Over the long haul and accepting on all the more acting open doors, the on-screen character will have the option to overcome their dread and have the option to act in an a progressively viable and incredible way.

Book Riots Deals of the Day for July 29th, 2017

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Relationship Between Marriage Enrichment Programs

Marriage enrichment programs were developed with the purpose of helping already married couples maintain a healthy relationship by participating in specific activities that are geared towards promoting marital relationships (Gladding, 2011). In reading through the enrichment programs discussed in Chapter 8, I can see where each one would be deeply beneficial for every couple. The program that I believe to be the most beneficial for any couple is PAIRS, Practical Application of Intimate Relationship Skills. The PAIRS (Practical Application of Intimate Relationship Skills) program is based on developing a close relationship with your spouse by rediscovering the emotional bond and intimacy between you and your partner. I believe†¦show more content†¦The PAIRS (Practical Application of Intimate Relationship Skills) program is offered in different areas and offers a faith based rendition as well. It seems that many programs are offered in 4 week or 120 hours focusing on communic ation skills, conflict resolution and nurturing the bond between couples. In looking at the PAIRS website, it seems that the website promotes a couples retreat. The downfall or negative to that is that while I believe that every couple would benefit from a program like this, I do not believe that every couple can afford a retreat. I also think that if couples were not comfortable in group therapy, this would not work. Not everyone enjoys airing their dirty laundry in front of a group. PAIRS is set up more like a class and does not get involved in the personal issues between the couples, it merely woks on strengthening the relationship by encouraging couples to find their own solutions. If a marriage is in serious trouble and the couples need therapy in order to concentrate on their individual problems, PAIRS is not the enrichment program for them. I investigated the website further and will discuss what I have found from my point of view as a busy wife and mother. The retreat begins on Friday evening and asks the couple to arrive an hour prior to the start of the class. This is so the couple can gather their

The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald - 1380 Words

Joseph Velasquez Ms. Smith American Literature 10 August 2015 In The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald has a running theme that excessive wealth and materialism will lead to carelessness, corruption, and destruction. Most of the characters in the book reflect this theme, like Tom and Daisy as they were careless to run away from their difficulties because they have the money and leave their mess for someone else to clean it up. However, some characters go against this theme, like Jay Gatsby. He came from a poor family, but grew to become a gentleman, and used that to lead another life, become rich, and one day would get the girl of his dreams. He uses that money on parties for the people and trying to get Daisy to go with him. Then there is someone else in real life that goes against this theme named Elon Musk. He found his money through the internet as he started his career founding companies, one of them being Paypal. He now uses this money to prolong humanities survival with companies such as SpaceX and Tesla Motorsports. The American Entrepr eneur Elon Musk and Jay Gatsby goes against Scott Fitzgerald’s theme of excessive wealth and materialism will lead to carelessness, corruption, and destruction by using their money generously. There are a lot of rumors speculating around Gatsby’s wealth. Some say that he got his money from Kaiser Wilhelm, while others think it was all simply inherited. All of this was false, but what is true is that he had help from other people, andShow MoreRelatedThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald1393 Words   |  6 PagesF. Scott Fitzgerald was the model of the American image in the nineteen twenties. He had wealth, fame, a beautiful wife, and an adorable daughter; all seemed perfect. Beneath the gilded faà §ade, however, was an author who struggled with domestic and physical difficulties that plagued his personal life and career throughout its short span. This author helped to launch the theme that is so prevalent in his work; the human instinct to yearn for more, into the forefront of American literature, where itRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1343 Words   |  6 PagesHonors English 10 Shugart 18 Decemeber 2014 The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald s 1925 novel The Great Gatsby is a tragic love story, a mystery, and a social commentary on American life. The Great Gatsby is about the lives of four wealthy characters observed by the narrator, Nick Carroway. Throughout the novel a mysterious man named Jay Gatsby throws immaculate parties every Saturday night in hope to impress his lost lover, Daisy Buchanan. Gatsby lives in a mansion on West Egg across from DaisyRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1155 Words   |  5 PagesThe Great Gatsby The Jazz Age was an era where everything and anything seemed possible. It started with the beginning of a new age with America coming out of World War I as the most powerful nation in the world (Novel reflections on, 2007). As a result, the nation soon faced a culture-shock of material prosperity during the 1920’s. Also known as the â€Å"roaring twenties†, it was a time where life consisted of prodigality and extravagant parties. Writing based on his personal experiences, author F. ScottRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1166 Words   |  5 Pagesin the Haze F. Scott Fitzgerald lived in a time that was characterized by an unbelievable lack of substance. After the tragedy and horrors of WWI, people were focused on anything that they could that would distract from the emptiness that had swallowed them. Tangible greed tied with extreme materialism left many, by the end of this time period, disenchanted. The usage of the literary theories of both Biographical and Historical lenses provide a unique interpretation of the Great Gatsby centered aroundRead MoreThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald845 Words   |  3 PagesIn F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby, colors represent a variety of symbols that relate back to the American Dream. The dream of being pure, innocent and perfect is frequently associated with the reality of corruption, violence, and affairs. Gatsby’s desire for achieving the American Dream is sought for through corruption (Schneider). The American Dream in the 1920s was perceived as a desire of w ealth and social standings. Social class is represented through the East Egg, the WestRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald Essay970 Words   |  4 Pagesrespecting and valuing Fitzgerald work in the twenty-first century? Fitzgerald had a hard time to profiting from his writing, but he was not successful after his first novel. There are three major point of this essay are: the background history of Fitzgerald life, the comparisons between Fitzgerald and the Gatsby from his number one book in America The Great Gatsby, and the Fitzgerald got influences of behind the writing and being a writer. From childhood to adulthood, Fitzgerald faced many good andRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald2099 Words   |  9 Pagesauthor to mirror his life in his book. In his previous novels F. Scott Fitzgerald drew from his life experiences. He said that his next novel, The Great Gatsby, would be different. He said, â€Å"In my new novel I’m thrown directly on purely creative work† (F. Scott Fitzgerald). He did not realize or did not want it to appear that he was taking his own story and intertwining it within his new novel. In The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, he imitates his lifestyle through the Buchanan family to demonstrateRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1607 Words   |  7 Pages The Great Gatsby is an American novel written in 1925 by F. Scott Fitzgerald. One of the themes of the book is the American Dream. The American Dream is an idea in which Americans believe through hard work they can achieve success and prosperity in the free world. In F. Scott Fitzgerald s novel, The Great Gatsby, the American Dream leads to popularity, extreme jealousy and false happiness. Jay Gatsby’s recent fortune and wealthiness helped him earn a high social position and become one of the mostRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1592 Words   |  7 PagesMcGowan English 11A, Period 4 9 January 2014 The Great Gatsby Individuals who approach life with an optimistic mindset generally have their goals established as their main priority. Driven by ambition, they are determined to fulfill their desires; without reluctance. These strong-minded individuals refuse to be influenced by negative reinforcements, and rely on hope in order to achieve their dreams. As a man of persistence, the wealthy Jay Gatsby continuously strives to reclaim the love of hisRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1646 Words   |  7 PagesThe 1920s witnessed the death of the American Dream, a message immortalized in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. Initially, the American Dream represented the outcome of American ideals, that everyone has the freedom and opportunity to achieve their dreams provided they perform honest hard work. During the 1920s, the United States experienced massive economic prosperity making the American Dream seem alive and strong. However, in Fitzgerald’s eyes, the new Am erican culture build around that

The Secret Circle The Initiation Chapter Four Free Essays

Her mother was still talking in that falsely bright way, but Cassie could only hear snatches of the words. â€Å"†¦ original wing actually Prerevolutionary, one-and-a-half stories†¦ front wing is Postrevolutionary Georgian†¦Ã¢â‚¬  It went on and on. Cassie clawed open the car door, getting an unobstructed view of the house at last. We will write a custom essay sample on The Secret Circle: The Initiation Chapter Four or any similar topic only for you Order Now The more she saw of it, the worse it looked. Her mother was saying something about a transom over the front door, her voice rapid and breathless. â€Å"†¦ rectangular, not like the arched fanlights that came later – â€Å" â€Å"I hate it!† Cassie cried, interrupting, her voice too loud in the quiet air, startlingly loud. She didn’t mean the transom, whatever a transom was. â€Å"I hate it!† she cried again passionately. There was silence from her mother behind her, but Cassie didn’t turn to look; she was staring at the house, at the rows of unwashed windows and the sagging eaves and the sheer monstrous bulk and flatness and horribleness of it, and she was shaking. â€Å"It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, and I hate it. I want to go home. I want to go home!† She turned to see her mother’s white face and stricken eyes, and burst into tears. â€Å"Oh, Cassie.† Mrs. Blake reached across the vinyl top of the car toward her. â€Å"Cassie, sweetheart.† There were tears in her own eyes, and when she looked up at the house, Cassie was astounded at her expression. It was a look of hatred and fear as great as anything Cassie felt. â€Å"Cassie, sweetheart, listen to me,† she said. â€Å"If you really don’t want to stay – â€Å" She stopped. Cassie was still crying, but she heard the noise behind her. Turning, she saw that the door to the house had opened. An old woman with gray hair was standing in the doorway, leaning on a cane. Cassie turned back. â€Å"Mom?† she said pleadingly. But her mother was gazing at the door. And slowly, a look of dull resignation settled over her. When she turned to Cassie, the brittle, falsely cheery tone was back in her voice. â€Å"That’s your grandmother, dear,† she said. â€Å"Let’s not keep her waiting.† â€Å"Mom†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Cassie whispered. It was a despairing entreaty. But her mother’s eyes had gone blank, opaque. â€Å"Come on, Cassie,† she said. Cassie had the wild idea of throwing herself into the car, locking herself in, until someone came to rescue her. But then the same heavy exhaustion that had descended over her mother seemed to wrap around her as well. They were here. There was nothing to be done about it. She pushed the car door shut and silently followed her mother to the house. The woman standing in the doorway was ancient. Old enough to be her great-grandmother, at least. Cassie tried to detect some resemblance to her mother, but she could find none. â€Å"Cassie, this is your Grandma Howard.† Cassie managed to mutter something. The old woman with the cane stepped forward, fixing her deep-set eyes on Cassie’s face. In that instant a bizarre thought flashed into Cassie’s mind: She’s going to put me in the oven. But then she felt arms around her, a surprisingly firm hug. Mechanically she lifted her own arms in a gesture of response. Her grandmother pulled back to look at her. â€Å"Cassie! At last. After all these years.† To Cassie’s discomfiture she went on looking, staring at Cassie with what seemed like a mixture of fierce worry and anxious hope. â€Å"At last,† she whispered again, as if speaking to herself. â€Å"It’s good to see you, Mother,† Cassie’s mother said then, quiet and formal, and the fierce old eyes turned away from Cassie. â€Å"Alexandra. Oh, my dear, it’s been too long.† The two women embraced, but an indefinable air of tension remained between them. â€Å"But we’re all standing here outside. Come in, come in, both of you,† her grandmother said, wiping her eyes. â€Å"I’m afraid the old place is rather shabby, but I’ve picked the best of the rooms for you. Let’s take Cassie to hers.† In the fading red light of the sunset the interior seemed cavernous and dark. And everything did look shabby, from the worn upholstery on the chairs to the faded oriental carpet on the pine-board floors. They went up a flight of stairs – slowly, with Cassie’s grandmother leaning on the banister – and down a long passage. The boards creaked under Cassie’s Reeboks and the lamps high on the walls flickered uneasily as they passed. One of us ought to be holding a candelabra, Cassie thought. Any minute now she expected to see Lurch or Cousin It coming down the hall toward them. â€Å"These lamps – it’s your grandfather’s wiring,† her grandmother apologized. â€Å"He insisted on doing so much of it himself. Here’s your room, Cassie. I hope you like pink.† Cassie felt her eyes widen as her grandmother opened the door. It was like a bedroom setting in a museum. There was a four-poster bed with hangings cascading from the head and foot and a canopy, all made of the same dusty-rose flowered fabric. There were chairs with high carved backs upholstered in a matching rose damask. On a fireplace with a high mantel rested a pewter candlestick and a china clock, and there were several pieces of massive, richly glowing furniture. The whole thing was beautiful, but so grand†¦ â€Å"You can put your clothes here – this chest is solid mahogany,† Cassie’s grandmother was saying. â€Å"The design is called bombe, and it was made right here in Massachusetts – this is the only area in all the colonies that produced it.† The colonies? Cassie thought wildly, staring at the decorative scroll top of the chest. â€Å"And this is your dressing table and your wardrobe†¦ Have you looked out the windows? I thought you might like a corner room because you can see both south and east.† Cassie looked. Through one window she could see the road. The other faced the ocean. Just now it was a sullen lead gray under the darkening sky, exactly matching Cassie’s mood. â€Å"I’ll leave you here to get settled in,† Cassie’s grandmother said. â€Å"Alexandra, I’ve given you the green room at the opposite end of the hallway†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Cassie’s mother gave her shoulder a quick, almost timid squeeze. And then Cassie was alone. Alone with the massive ruddy furniture and the cold fireplace and the heavy draperies. She sat gingerly on a chair because she was afraid of the bed. She thought about her bedroom at home, with her white pressed-wood furniture and her Phantom of the Opera posters and the new CD player she’d bought with her baby-sitting money. She’d painted the bookcase pale blue to show off her unicorn collection. She collected every kind of unicorn there was – stuffed, blown glass, ceramic, pewter. Back home, Clover had said once that Cassie was like a unicorn herself: blue eyed, shy, and different from everyone else. All that seemed to belong to a former life now. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but sometime later she found the piece of chalcedony in her hand. She must have taken it out of her pocket, and now she was clinging to it. If you’re ever in trouble or danger, she thought, and a wave of longing swept over her. It was followed by a wave of fury. Don’t be stupid, she told herself sharply. You’re not in danger. And no rock is going to help you. She had an impulse to throw it away, but instead she just rubbed it against her cheek, feeling the cool, jagged smoothness of the crystals. It made her remember his touch – how gentle it had been, the way it had pierced her to the soul. Daringly, she rubbed the crystal over her lips and felt a sudden throb from all the places on her skin he had touched. The hand he had held – she could still feel his fingers printed on her palm. Her wrist – she felt the light brush of cool fingertips raising the hairs there. And the back of it†¦ She shut her eyes and her breath caught as she remembered that kiss. What would it have felt like, she wondered, if his lips had touched where the crystal touched now? She let her head fall back , drawing the cool stone from her own lips down her throat to rest in the hollow where her pulse beat. She could almost feel him kissing her, as no boy ever had; she could almost imagine that it really was his lips there. I would let you, she thought, even though I wouldn’t let anyone else†¦ I would trust you†¦ But he’d left her. Suddenly, with a shock, she remembered that. He’d left her and gone away, just as the other most important man in Cassie’s life had. Cassie seldom thought about her father. She seldom allowed herself to. He’d gone away when she was only a little girl, left her mother and her alone to take care of themselves. Cassie’s mother told people he had died, but to Cassie she admitted the truth: he’d simply left. Maybe he was dead by now, or maybe he was somewhere else, with another family, another daughter. She and her mother would never know. And although her mother never spoke about him unless someone asked, Cassie knew that he’d broken her mother’s heart. Men always leave, Cassie thought, her throat aching. They both left me. And now I’m alone†¦ here. If only I had somebody else to talk to†¦ a sister, somebody†¦ Eyes still shut, she let the hand with the crystal trail down and fall into her lap. She was so exhausted with emotion that she couldn’t even get up to go to the bed. She simply sat there, drifting in the lonely dimness until her breathing slowed and she fell asleep. That night Cassie had a dream – or perhaps it wasn’t a dream. She dreamed that her mother and grandmother came into the room, moving noiselessly, almost gliding over the floor. In her dream she was aware of them, but she couldn’t move as they lifted her from the chair and undressed her and put her to bed. Then they stood over the bed, looking down at her. Her mother’s eyes were strange and dark and unfathomable. â€Å"Little Cassie,† her grandmother said with a sigh. â€Å"At last. But what a pity – â€Å" â€Å"Sh!† her mother said sharply. â€Å"She’ll wake up.† Her grandmother sighed again. â€Å"But you can see that it’s the only way†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Yes,† her mother said, her voice empty and resigned. â€Å"I can see that you can’t escape destiny. I shouldn’t have tried.† That’s just what I thought, Cassie realized as the dream faded. You can’t escape destiny. Vaguely she could see her mother and grandmother moving toward the door, and she could hear the whisper of their voices. She couldn’t make out any words, though, until one sibilant hiss came through. â€Å"†¦ sacrifice . . .† She wasn’t sure which of the women had said it, but it echoed over and over in her mind. Even as darkness covered her, she kept hearing it. Sacrifice†¦ sacrifice†¦ sacrifice†¦ It was morning. She was lying in the four-poster bed and sunlight was streaming in the eastern window. It made the pink room look like a rose petal held up to the light. Sort of warm and shining. Somewhere outside a bird was singing. Cassie sat up. She had a confused memory of some kind of a dream, but it was dim and vague. Her nose was stuffed up – probably from crying – and she felt a little lightheaded but not really bad. She felt the way you do after being very sick or very upset and then getting some deep, restful sleep: strangely spacey and peaceful. The quiet after the storm. She got dressed. Just as she was about to leave the room, she noticed the chalcedony lucky piece on the floor and slipped it in her pocket. No one else seemed to be awake. Even in the daytime the long passage was dark and cool, lit only by the windows at opposite ends. Cassie found herself shivering as she walked down the hall, and the dim bulbs of the wall lamps flickered as if in sympathy. Downstairs was lighter. But there were so many rooms that when she tried to explore, she quickly got lost. Finally, she ended up in the front hallway and decided to go outside. She wasn’t even thinking about why – she guessed she wanted to see the neighborhood. Her steps took her down the long, narrow country road, past house after house. It was so early, no one else was outside. And eventually she ended up at the pretty yellow house with the towers. High in one tower, the window was sparkling. Cassie was staring at it, wondering why, when she noticed motion in a ground-floor window much closer to her. It was a library or study, and standing inside was a girl. The girl was tall and slender, with an incredibly long cascade of hair that obscured her face as she bent over something on the desk in front of the window. That hair – Cassie couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was like moonlight and sunlight woven together – and it was natural. No dark roots. Cassie had never seen anything so beautiful. They were so close – Cassie standing just behind the neat hedge outside the window, and the girl standing just inside, facing her, but looking down. Cassie watched, fascinated, at what the girl was doing at the desk. The girl’s hands moved gracefully, grinding something up with a mortar and pestle. Spices? Whatever it was, the girl’s movements were quick and deft and her hands slender and pretty. And Cassie had the oddest feeling†¦ If the girl would only look up, she thought. Just look outside her own window. Once she did, then†¦ something would happen. Cassie didn’t know what, but her skin had broken out in gooseflesh. She had such a sense of connection, of†¦ kinship. If the girl would just look up†¦ Yell. Throw a stone at the window. Cassie was actually looking for a stone when she saw movement again. The girl with the shining hair was turning, as if responding to someone inside the house calling her. Cassie had a glimpse of a lovely, dewy face – but only for the briefest instant. Then the girl had turned and was hurrying away, hair flying like silk behind her. Cassie let out her breath. It would have been stupid anyway, she told herself as she walked back home. Fine way to introduce yourself to your neighbors – throwing rocks at them. But the sense of crushing disappointment remained. She felt that somehow she’d never have another chance – she’d never get up the courage to introduce herself to that girl. Anyone that beautiful undoubtedly had plenty of friends without Cassie. Undoubtedly went with a crowd far beyond Cassie’s orbit. Her grandmother’s flat, square house looked even worse after the sunny Victorian one. Disconsolately, Cassie drifted over to the bluff, to look down at the ocean. Blue. A color so intense she didn’t know how to describe it. She watched the water washing around a dark rock and felt a queer thrill. The wind blew her hair back, and she stared out at the morning sun glittering on the waves. She felt†¦ kinship again. As if something were speaking to her blood, to something deep inside her. What was it about this place – about that girl? She felt she could almost grasp it†¦ â€Å"Cassie!† Startled, Cassie looked around. Her grandmother was calling from the doorway of the old wing of the house. â€Å"Are you all right? For heaven’s sake, get away from the edge!† Cassie looked down and immediately felt a wave of vertigo. Her toes were almost off the bluff. â€Å"I didn’t realize I was that close,† she said, stepping back. Her grandmother stared at her, then nodded. â€Å"Well, come away now and I’ll get you some breakfast,† she said. â€Å"Do you like pancakes?† Feeling a little shy, Cassie nodded. She had some vague memory about a dream that made her uncomfortable, but she definitely felt better this morning than she had yesterday. She followed her grandmother through the door, which was much thicker and heavier than a modern one. â€Å"The front door of the original house,† her grandmother explained. She didn’t seem to be having much trouble with her leg today, Cassie noticed. â€Å"Strange to have it lead directly into the kitchen, isn’t it? But that was how they did things in those days. Sit down, why don’t you, while I make the pancakes.† But Cassie was staring in amazement. The kitchen was like no kitchen she’d ever seen before. There was a gas range and a refrigerator – even a microwave shoved back on a wooden counter – but the rest of it was like something out of a movie set. Dominating the room was an enormous open fireplace as big as a walk-in closet, and although there was no fire now, the thick layer of ashes at the bottom showed that it was sometimes used. Inside, an iron pot hung on an iron crossbar. Over the fireplace were sprays of dried flowers and plants, which gave off a pleasant fragrance. And as for the woman in front of the hearth†¦ Grandmothers were supposed to be pink and cozy, with soft laps and large checking accounts. This woman looked stooped and coarse, with her grizzled hair and the prominent mole on her cheek. Cassie kept half expecting her to go over to the iron pot and stir it while muttering, â€Å"Double, double, toil and trouble†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Immediately after she thought this, she felt ashamed. That’s your grandmother, she told herself fiercely. Your only living relative besides your mother. It’s not her fault she’s old and ugly. So don’t just sit here. Say something nice. â€Å"Oh, thanks,† she said, as her grandmother placed a plate of steaming pancakes in front of her. Then she added, â€Å"Uh, are those dried flowers over the fireplace? They smell good.† â€Å"Lavender and hyssop,† her grandmother said. â€Å"When you’re done eating, I’ll show you my garden, if you like.† â€Å"I’d love it,† Cassie said, truthfully. But when her grandmother led her outside after she’d finished eating, the scene was far different than Cassie had expected. There were some flowers, but for the most part the â€Å"garden† just looked like weeds and bushes – row after row of overgrown, uncared-for weeds and bushes. â€Å"Oh – how nice,† Cassie said. Maybe the old lady was senile after all. â€Å"What unusual – plants.† Her grandmother shot her a shrewd, amused glance. â€Å"They’re herbs,† she said. â€Å"Here, this is lemon balm. Smell.† Cassie took the heart-shaped leaf, wrinkled like a mint leaf but a little bigger, and sniffed. It had the scent of freshly peeled lemon. â€Å"That is nice,† she said, surprised. â€Å"And this is French sorrel – taste.† Cassie gingerly took the small, rounded leaf and nibbled at the end. The taste was sharp and refreshing. â€Å"It’s good – like sour grass!† she said, looking up at her grandmother, who smiled. â€Å"What are those?† Cassie said, nibbling again as she pointed to some bright yellow buttons of flowers. â€Å"That’s tansy. The ones that look like white daisies are feverfew. Feverfew leaves are good in salads.† Cassie was intrigued. â€Å"What about those?† She pointed to some creamy white flowers that twined up other bushes. â€Å"Honeysuckle. I keep it just because it smells good. The bees love it, and the butterflies. In spring it’s like Grand Central Station around here.† Cassie reached out to snap off a fragrant stem of delicate flower buds, then stopped. â€Å"Could I – I thought I’d take some up for my room. If you don’t mind, I mean.† â€Å"Oh, good heavens, take as many as you want. That’s what they’re here for.† She’s not really old and ugly at all, Cassie thought, snapping off stems of the creamy flowers. She’s just – different. Different doesn’t necessarily mean bad. â€Å"Thanks – Grandma,† she said as they went back into the house. Then she opened her mouth again, to ask about the yellow house, and who lived there. But her grandmother was picking up something from beside the microwave. â€Å"Here, Cassie. This came in the mail for you yesterday.† She handed Cassie two booklets bound in construction paper, one red and one white. New Salem High School Student and Parent Handbook, one read. The other read, New Salem High School Program of Studies. Oh, my God, Cassie thought. School. New hallways, new lockers, new classrooms, new faces. There was a slip of paper between the booklets, with Schedule of Classes printed boldly at the top. And under that, her name, with her address listed as Number Twelve Crowhaven Road, New Salem. Her grandmother might not be as bad as she’d thought; even the house might turn out to be not so awful. But what about school? How could she ever face school here in New Salem? How to cite The Secret Circle: The Initiation Chapter Four, Essay examples

Rose For Emily By Faulkner Essays (628 words) - A Rose For Emily

Rose For Emily By Faulkner A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner is a remarkable tale of Emily Grierson, whose funeral drew the attention of the entire population of Jefferson a small southern town. Emily was raised in the ante-bellum period before the Civil War in the south. An unnamed narrator, who is consider to be "the town" or at least the collaborative voice of it, aligns key moments in Emily's life, including the death of her father and her brief relationship with a man form the north named Homer Barron. In short this story explains Emily's strict and repetitive ways and the sullen curiosity that the towns people have shown toward her. Rising above the literal level of Emily's narrative, the story basically addressesthe symbolic changes in the South after the civil war. Emily's house symbolizes neglect, and improvishment in the new times in the town of Jefferson. Beginning with Emily Grierson's funeral, the story foreshadows the ending and suspenseful events in Emily's life, and her other impending circumstances. A Rose for Emily tells the tale of a young woman who lives and abides by her father's strict sensibilities. The rampant symbolism and Falkner's descriptions of the decaying house, coincide with Miss Emily's physical and emotional decay,also emphasize her mental degeneration, and further illustrate the outcome of Falkner's story. Miss Emily's decaying house, not only lacks genuine love and care, but so douse she in her adult life, but more so during her childhood. The pertinence of Miss Emily's house in relation to her physical appearance is brought on by constant neglect and unappreciatation. As an example, the house is situated in what was once a prominent neighborhood that has now deteriorated. Originally the house was described as, "It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies" of an earlier time, now many of the towns people see that the house has become "an eyesore among eyesores". Through lack of attention, the house has deteriorated from a beautiful estate, to an ugly desolate shack. Similarly, Emily has also become an eyesore in the following various ways. For instance, she is first described as a "fallen monument" to suggest her former grandeur and her later ugliness. She might have stayed out of the public eye after these two deaths which left her finally alone, something she was not used to. When Emily died Jefferson lost a prominent monument of the Old South. This story contains a high rate of symbolism thoroughly distributed and revealed by shady foreshadowing. Just as the house has, Emily has lost her beauty. Once she had been a beautiful woman, who later becomes obese and bloated. In this post civil war town, the great estate and Emily had suffered the toll of time and neglect. As the exterior, the interior of the house as well resembles Emily's increasing decent and the growing sense of sadness that accompanies such a downfall. All that is told of the inside of Emily's house is a dim hall, where a staircase is mounted into descending darkness, with the house smelling of foul odors. The combined darkness and odor of the house relate with Emily in some of the following ways, with her dry and cold voice as if it were scrappy and dry from disuse just like her house. The similarity between the inside of the house and Emily extends to the mantel, where there is a portrait of her father and Emily sitting there. Internally and externally, both Emily's building and her body are in a state of deterioration and tarnishment like a metallic material. An example of Emily's unwillingness to change is when she refused to let the "new guard" attach metal numbers above her door and fasten a mailbox when the town received free mail service. This reflected Emily's unyielding and stubborn persona caused by and related to her father's strict treatment of her when she was young.