Rain is dancing on Gondolin’s high towers. It drips from architraves and streaks down the lancet windows. The climbing flowers that wind around the high balustrades and volutes gather the rains in their trumpet-shaped blossoms.
Iridescent in the rain, hummingbird wings quiver ruby red and gold in the misty air, flashes of dancing color.
Rain sings on the fountains and in the marble-paved courtyards. It flutters at the panes like timorous wings, a song afraid to be heard, lest it be ruined by hardened hearts.
Only one child of Ondolindë lets the melody wash over her. The rain falls softly upon her bare face and arms, as if it knows the joy of the present and the sorrow of the future. Each droplet lights gently upon her skin and bejewels her
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“What shall I see?”
Her eyes defy him.
Thrice slave, unfortunate man, cries his heart. Thrall to Lorgan, thrall to the Sea, and thrall to heart 's desire.
She nods her head, once.
So he bends his golden head over the gem. It is uncarved, unadorned, hung about with a simple golden chain. Often had he wondered why the jewel of Gondolin should go with this as her only jewel when she could have the wealth of the kingdom about her neck.
For a long while he beheld it. Every time he thought to look away, a flicker in the gem caught his eye. And at last, the gem seemed to stir, as a still pool when a raindrop falls. It rippled, and the ripples spread out to the confinements of the jewel and changed. Idril looked not at the gem, nor did she see what he saw, but his eyes held hers as he straightened.
“You shall not sail alone,” she whispers and unclasps the gem. The golden chain falls shimmering into his hand, the gem heavy and cold in his sword-worn palm.
Water falls. It drips from the stones, from the branches, from the buds. It flows out into Tumladen, the green vale.
It sings, running through many channels. Some dried up, some were diverted into waysides and grew
Lead author of the Harlem Renaissance and first African-American anthropologist studying his own culture, Zora Neale Hurston is, in many ways, an exceptional writer. Indeed, unlike others such as Robert Wright or Alain Locke, Hurston does not deny the cultural legacy that represents the black folklore, folklore that will influence both the form and substance of his art. As a trained anthropologist, Hurston has been able to capture the American black culture and use it through vernacular oral transcriptions. In Their Eyes Were Watching God, we will analyze the mobilization of language that Hurston uses in order to create a pictorial world. Firstly, we will explore the use of vernacular language.
"Then turn loose," Jewel says. He will not stop. Cash begins to fall behind, hobbling to keep up, breathing harshly; then he is distanced and Jewel carries the entire front end alone, so that, tilting as the path begins to slant, it begins to rush away from me and slip down the air like a sled upon invisible snow, smoothly evacuating atmosphere in which the sense of it is still shaped. "(page 98). This beautiful narration by Darl shows how one by one men of the Bundern family fall behind in comparison to Jewel.
“Then Circe said to me, “Listen while I explain the course of your journey so that you will know how to proceed without further suffering. First of all, you will come upon the two Sirens. Anyone who is foolish enough to approach them will never return. They sit upon their island and tempt those who sail nearby with their beautiful songs, and anyone who cannot resist them becomes their victim. He joins the decaying bodies and mounds of bones that surround them”.
“But I mustn't...” he pointed his chin down, staring through his spidery lashes, “I need them.” A surge of anger raced through me. “If you do anything to them—” Just then, the swaying emerald grazed Gemma’s cheek, and astoundingly, the light within the gem dimmed.
7. “For the first time he felt that in that sharp fire, he had slowly forged the iron which could break the prison door of his daughter’s husband, and deliver him” (chapter 4, page 270-271). Characterization/
She paused as though in deep thought. "Then hearken," she said, raising herself upon her arm and looking earnestly at him. "The secret of this, the Eye of the Leviathan, is forbidden you, yet if you dare to travel to a distant country far away over the waterless regions beyond the Marki, if you will penetrate the lands of hostile tribes in the disguise, you can learn that which will give wealth and power and will purchase my dowry to at last bring us together." "To
Water spans over approximately seventy-one percent of the Earth’s surface. It is vital to the survival of every species, and serves as a passage way between societies. Likewise, “The Path of Water”, in the novel, The Seven Paths, can meaningfully connect to other texts, today’s world, and my life. For instance, this passage can correlate to the community within Anthem. The narrator of The Seven Paths hunts for water.
Wesley lets Rain out of the house during the storm and she becomes lost, adding to Rose’s emotional turmoil. Rose is becoming crazed, confused and concerned when she realizes that her Rain is all alone and lost: ““Rain! Rain! Rain! Rain” I scream into the damp, cloudy, and rainy morning
Implying how his childhood contrasts to Samoris' childhood. Finding where he once stood while growing up within a ghetto culture, Coates restates struggle and fighting diction to Samori retelling his message of the world is fulfilled by fear. “...the abundance of beauty shops, churches, liquor stores, and crumbling housing-and I felt the old fear.” Concluding the passage, Coates utilizes hyperbole, “Through the windshield I saw the rain coming down in the sheets.” exaggerating the rainfall, symbolizing renewal and rebirth, providing closure to the end of the struggle.
A far rush of wind sounded and a gust drove through the tops of the trees like a wave. The sycamore leaves turned up their silver sides, the brown, dry leaves on the ground scudded a few feet. And row on row of tiny wind waves flowed up the pool’s green surface. As quickly as it had come, the wind died, and the clearing was quiet again. The heron stood in the
The clouds persevere though, they sprinkle out the wicked hopes of the cheatgrass. They keep the rivers babbling to the beautiful twisted knot of trees. They give a gulp of refreshing water to the dry desert dust, giving it a squishy voice to add into nature’s song. Soon the birds, the crickets and the frogs will come back and add their
How your fate reflects itself in water / from man to horned and dappled stag, sentenced / for looking” (ll. 15,16), especially the exclamation mark creates the idea of the maiden mocking or making fun of Actaeon for not having desiring
This journey and thirst for belonging inspired her poetry book Loop of Jade. Howe begins her book with the poem Mother’s Jewellery Box. The poem acts as a gateway to the main topic discussed in her other poems: the relationship between her and her Chinese heritage.
Caliban looked on in awe at the golden goddess moving on the sand before him. The sound of his name on her wet ruby lips was the sweetest thing he had heard in a long time. For a few moments he was enraptured, as if stunned by the fragrance of an especially powerful rose. Then he lopped grinning after Taylor, gurgling with laughter and finding himself curiously playful.
I feel it radiating into my blood, as my heart skips a beat. Soon, enlightened by a beating pair of wings effortlessly moving up and down, more fragile than the glass that once was sitting on the edge of the table. The fluttering pair of painted silk wings circles my front, as another pair comes into sight, creating a delicate breeze that brushes past my quilted cold cheeks. I manage to smile at the picturesque view in front of me, sending a warm satisfaction to my body as it sparks my heart and floods my eyes with tear-filled blur.