In the “Diary of Anne Frank” Anne says “I’m trying. Really I am. Every night I think back over all of the things I did that day that were wrong… lie putting the wet mop in Mr. Dussel’s bed… and this thing now with Mother, I say to myself, that was wrong. I make up my mind, I’m never going to do that again!... I have a nicer side, Father… a sweeter, nicer side.
Emily Dickinson is a well-known poet in American Literature for her poetry about nature and love along with her weird relationship with God. I enjoyed her poems because it made me think about my own life. She was pulled from school when she was a child by her dad and stayed home for a while and started making poetry bundles at a time. She studied mostly nature and the environment when she was in school at the age of 15, knowing how she feels about science she then went to a Seminary for school and a most of the girls were broken up into groups of how they viewed religion. So, it was a tough time a teen trying to figure out if she truly believed in God or not.
Waiting on my parents, I made a promised to myself never to do anything like it again, mainly because I believed that teachers could read minds and I was safe nowhere. I went home that night scared of what my parents would say. Thankfully, they explained to me what I did with kind voices and I felt terrible. I spent the rest of my short lived night with a heavy heart and and a disappointment in
When Miss Emily arrived home “she opened the package at home there was written on the box, under the skull and bones: "For rats." (Faulkner 458). The women of the town began to worry about Miss Emily’s plan of killing herself, they summoned the Baptist minister to check up on her. Although, the minister visited Emily, “He would never divulge what happened during that interview, but he refused to go back again” (Faulkner 458). The town people never questioned or wondered why the minister was terrified of Miss Emily’s house.
According to Foster in his book “How to Read Literature like a Professor” a symbol stands for just one meaning and an allegory stands for two or more meanings. When Vera talks to Mr, Nuttel about “the tragedy” she is very emphatic about the window, she wants to make Mr. Nuttel to believe that the open window is a memorial of their relatives, and the window also means hope because according to Vera’s history her aunt thinks that they relatives will return. In the Vera’s story, she says that everything happened in an October afternoon, according to Foster when the events happened in the winter, most of the time characters die, because winter is cold and you may find ice and snow that sometimes may be related with dead. In addition according to Foster when characters are close of a river, in this case a bog, and they get in and they can go out it is like a baptism, but if characters cannot get out probably they drown, according to the Vera’s story they never came back. The bog is a symbol of dead in the Vera’s story about their
I first wanted to be a great cartoonist and had a drawing of my father published in the ‘Manchester Guardian’ when I was ten, for which I received five guineas. I was born and brought up in Manchester - my father was a pianist and my mother a musical comedy actress, ‘Beautiful Belle Burgess’ she was called, so it was natural enough when I began to take a special interest in music. During the war I was musical director for an Army Division and I composed two full-length symphonies and a couple of concertos. I never had much financial success with music though, and my life has been a slow process of finding an art one can practise with
So the next day, I was leaving with my Grandma’s daughter and her little kids. The little kids were always wanting my attention and I just ignored them. So about halfway through they just started crying, once i got home, my brother was there playing computer and I just laid on my bed and did nothing till I got bored. After that my Grandma got home and we all had to pack up the camper. After camping we did nothing the rest of the
I had just woken from one of my short dream in the happenings of insomnia. My mother had rushed into my dully painted grey bedroom and explained the news, but not the news that shows on the television every morning— this was something different, an event never spoken of. “I have to go pick up my friend Robert. Make sure to feed your brothers and yourself as well, the food is in the kitchen waiting,” said my mother rushing out the door. “Wait, mom!
My father asked me what I did during the day, and I told him about the fire. He had a worried look on his face. He came home and talked to mom, and she immediately called my grandmother. The next day, my father did not take me to see my grandmother instead I stayed at my aunt’s house, I quickly
She would rather share the story with us because she loved to discuss the story. After the lunch she would put us asleep and dig her eye and gets lost in the story. One fine Sunday my father managed to get the best Suspense Novel which the librarian told was very popular and creepy too. This one is the best novel I ever knew, take this one and I am sure your wife will love reading it, said the librarian. Way back to home he brought some hot snacks along with the novel and was at the thought that we all would enjoy the snacks followed by some family chats.