The White Heron The short story “The White Heron” by Sarah Jewett was very interesting. The theme of the story could be life isn’t all about money. I liked the story because the girl knows life is too precious to sell. The girl chose to save the birds life instead of receiving ten dollars. I like this story because the girl wasn’t just thinking about herself she was thinking about the bird and maybe its species. The theme of the story could be considered to be life is more valuable than money. The
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“A White Heron‚” by Sarah Orne Jewett‚ can be viewed and critiqued in many ways. Personally‚ there several parts that I liked. For example‚ I liked the imagery. In the story‚ Jewett uses the statement‚ “though a bright sunset still glimmered faintly among the trunks of the trees.” This statement paints a vivid picture in the reader’s mind which made the story pleasurable. Another aspect of which I liked was the figurative language. She used personification in phrases like “the tree stood still and
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Centaur into the sky‚ away from the now dissipating dust cloud‚ straightening it out above a splattering of white‚ wispy cloud. “Sidebottom‚ I said I would
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was this? “Zach this kind of looks like…” “My house….” Zach whispered lowly‚ drenching himself in the realization. The broken-down door to the house swung open with a woman appearing in the entry way. The woman was young looking‚ but very tired. A white cotton dress draped her frail‚ willowy
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"Hey‚ are you ready?" The day started the same all the time. "You up? You have work to do!" Though the voice kept pestering away into absent air. "Look‚ I’m only here to help you." Empty‚ the room sat with the single voice echoing through it‚ before filtering into another room. "Where are you? Have you decided to run away again?" Room after room‚ the voice light up the place‚ but no reply was in sight. "Alright then‚ I’m calling your guardians." Dialing sounded through the empty house. Dishes were
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Clockwork Through the late afternoon‚ and into the early evening‚ Porphyria’s lover sat motionlessly in a high-backed leather chair. Facing the unlit fireplace and with fingers entwined‚ he silently and stiffly awaited the arrival of his companion. Above the fireplace a large mirror clings to the chimney breast‚ reflecting an ominous image of the bookcase stood towering above him. Just below on the mantle sits an ornate wooden clock‚ hands stood at quarter-past six. Outside‚ a snow storm attacked
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"It was me‚ I did it! Leave Henry out of this‚ he’s innocent!" Pleaded Olivia‚ trashing and uselessly pulling against the restraints that were keeping her tightly tied up against the tree She probably should give up‚ but she just couldn’t and now‚ thanks to her struggles‚ most of her hair were untied and uselessly slashing in the wind. "Oh‚ Olivia…I’m so disappointed in you. I really thought we had something special going on." Mocked Hyde‚ smirking victoriously before striding away‚ hands and arms
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The Taming of a Shrew is the alternate ending for The Taming of the Shrew. They both have similar concepts‚ but we find the major difference in Kate’s speech at the end. The ending of both plays bring about a satisfying feeling that a shrew‚ even so bad as Kate‚ could be tamed. She realises the faults of her ways and goes on to explain‚ differently in both‚ why women should be tamed. In the original The Taming of the Shrew‚ “Katherine explains the relationship of husband and wife by analogy to
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They both watched as a giant cube of energy exploded from the capsules and severed the Hollow’s arm. Naoko blinked and tore her attention away from the beast and to her bracelet. A simple silver chain encircled her thin wrist and swinging from it was small silver cross with a pair of crescent moons pointing outward. She held her arm out and tried to focus on drawing reishi particles in to her hand like Uryu had taught her. But his teachings were proving to have been for naught because Naoko could
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Horrors. Lena thought she could smell him before she saw him stumbling down the path‚ his limbs shaking violently with the effort it took to press his body onward. From far away‚ he seemed to be wearing some sort of ornate ensemble‚ ribbons of crimson trailing across his trunk and limbs in incredibly intricate patterns. Lena stared at him for a long moment as he approached their tent‚ and all at once a sense of understanding overcame her when she realized that the messenger only wore his own blood
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