Gina Broyles English 152 Lynne Goldsmith Descriptive Essay October 23‚ 2014 Let Me Tell Ya ‘Bout My Best Friend Saige Mackenzie Polk‚ a five foot girl with ten feet of attitude and sass. The girl that everyone knows and watches in awe as she struts down the hallways. She’s the girl that succeeds with flying colors at everything she attempts‚ and never has a thought of giving up until she feels it is good enough for not only herself‚ but every other person around. Everything about Saige is spectacular
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American dream is something that people all over the world yearn for. They long to leave their native countries and come to America to escape religious persecution‚ unstable government‚ or something similar. Even well-established American citizens can have an American dream of their own. Many young adults‚ myself included‚ dream of a successful life where we work hard for what we wish to have. While many foreigners’ American dreams are of a life of freedom in the “Land of Opportunity”‚ my American
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Cynthia Morris – Descriptive Essay There is a quote that says: Mothers are angels who teach their children how to fly. Indeed my mother was an angel who in my younger years I thought was sent here to torture me especially when I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of doing chores or homework. My mother was the pillar of strength‚ love‚ and compassion. Mothers may be misunderstood but that doesn’t mean they don’t care or know better. My earliest memories of my mother‚ was her pretty
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He sits on the steps in front of his brown house. One foot on the sidewalk the other leg bent at the knee. The orange glow of his cigarette held inches from his yellowing teeth. From inside the house he hears shouting. He stands‚ his light washed jeans are worn down at the knees. He stubs the cigarette in green ceramic ashtray on top of the wooden banister. Taking out a lighter‚ he walks over to his car. Placing one foot on the gray rear bumper‚ he lights a second cigarette. The luminescent street
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Descriptive Essay: Connor Donnelly 090-177 Essay #2 People are always talking about being in those situations where time slows down to the point where a few seconds feels like a few minutes‚ well I didn’t exactly think that is what actually happened. Until a dreary‚ calm‚ dull spring afternoon in Briargate (located in Northern Colorado Springs)‚ about a week after my fourteenth birthday‚ I decided that I was going to go down to this plentifully lush creek next to a well travelled bridge. While
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Descriptive essay is a genre of essay which is used to describe a certain subject: a person‚ a thing‚ a place‚ a memory‚ experience‚ situation... A good descriptive essay should make the readers feel like they are present in the scene. As other essays‚ a descriptive essay usually has three parts: introduction‚ body paragraphs and conclusion. In the first part: introduction‚ the writer must have a sentence to introduce the subject with many kinds of techniques. Besides‚ there should be some more
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India of My Dreams Introduction William Dement said‚ “Dreaming permits each and everyone of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of ourMy India My Pride lives.” He says that sometimes this insanity can be fruitful and sometimes very infectious and sometimes very delectable and delicious. It is in many ways necessary for a country like India to be insane and dream as it is a bigger crime not to dream than to dare to dream. India of my dreams is a topic‚ which is as wide and
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There was once a time when my Motherland‚ India‚ was considered a ‘Golden Bird’. This was because of its riches‚ vast natural resources and the great‚ bright future it was expected to have in store‚ our rich‚ cultural heritage‚ old civilization and vast knowledge in every aspect of life had endeared India and Indians even to the outside world. No wonder‚ foreigners had been taking keen interest in us right from the dawn of their awakening. But alas! It is all lost now. Gone are the days of past
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099 7248795 Descriptive Essay Grandmother‚ the inspiration of my life I still remember every picture and actions of my grandmother‚ a woman who loves me and sacrifices for me and my father most. My father grew up in the north of Vietnam‚ and my mom and my family in the south of Vietnam. For the disadvantages of long distance‚ I could not visit my grandmother and grandfather regularly. Fortunately‚ in Tet Holiday in Vietnam when I was 7 years old‚ my parents took me to visit my grandmother
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whiteboard remains. My eyes dart towards the window as I stare at the barren tree branches; they shiver‚ afraid‚ in the thick cold and velvety air of winter. As my stoic teacher slowly raises from her seat the creak of her chair invades the classroom; her thin lips turn upward and she stares down each student with her hawk-like glare. My heart races and I start to breathe harder and harder—faster and faster. The
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