or recognition or being singular. Superannuated retired because of age or infirmity. Unnerving make someone lose courage or confidence. Veneer Covering something with a nice piece of wood About the Author: Bill Bryson’s a popular travel writer whose hiking stories combine human interest with a sense of interest and humor. Bryson has spent more than 20 years in England‚ touring the countryside and writing bestselling books. In 1995‚ Bryson returned the the UAS in New Hampshire near the appalachian trail
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birthday. Did I tell you she was my twin? Yah‚ if you stood us by each other the only way you could tell us apart is if we spoke. Man did I hate her.” Dr. Grey’s eyes were finally met by Liv’s. “Why did you hate her?” questioned Dr. Grey. The doctor’s eyes where just like her name – grey. Liv thought they resembled that of a stormy night. Just like the night she walked out the hospital with her friends barely escaping with their lives. “I mean I don’t hate her…she’s my sister. I love her. She always
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It was tea-time. Jason’s eyes were glued to the television set. The sounds from blasting speakers reverberated through the four walls of the living room. “Jason...” a familiar voice sounded. The television screen went blank. The speakers turned off. It was complete silence for a few seconds. Wondering what happened‚ Jason looked up. True enough‚ it was his mother‚ the same female that had given him life 19 years ago. In her hand was the television remote control. However there was something strange
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In the story‚ “The Lottery‚” by Shirley Jackson‚ the only point of view used by the author is the dramatic or objective point of view. In this point of view‚ the narrator is an unidentified speaker who reports things in great detail‚ even though the narrator does not play a role in the story. By using such point of view‚ Jackson builds an aura of uncertainty that endures until the dramatic ending of the story. From the beginning of the story‚ the knowledge about the lottery is revealed only by the
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“Hills Like White Elephants” calls to mind the “A Game of Chess” section of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922); like Eliot’s masterpiece‚ Hemingway’s story deals with the sterility and vacuity of the modern world. The boredom of the man and the desperation of the girl reveal the emptiness of the postwar generation and the crucial necessity of taking responsibility for the quality of one’s own life. Hemingway’s characters seem to live in a world without a God‚ without traditions or clear and established
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wash. I lay down on my snug bed pondering over what to put down for my Christmas list... Life was hard here in Serbia ever since my mum died. Nothing was the same. No more clean water‚ no electronic luxuries and a huge shortage of money. I had to often help my dad on the farm if there was any chance of affording a Christmas present. Any second I had free I was on the streets playing football with my friends. Football was all I thought and dreamt about. Several years ago my mum bought me a Barcelona
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wishes with revising your paper! Hi‚ Gregory! I am Kobe F.‚ and I am happy to read and comment on your work today. I like your choice of Jimmy Cross for your discussion because he suffers the most important conflict between desire and duty in O’Brien’s story. Below I suggest some improvements to your thesis statement‚ conclusion‚ and comma use to help you enhance your paper. The ERF and embedded comments include the draft being on topic and grammatically correct as in “Help Requested.” So here we go!
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the air. I was vaguely aware of the murmurs and rustlings of the other mourners as they took their seats. I dabbed my eyes with the hanker-chief as the deeply moving and melancholy chords of “Amazing Grace” began to filter through the stony walls. Ahead of the pews the mahogany casket was polished to a glossy shine and adorned with pale pink and white roses. Inside laid the body of my grandmother. Her life ended not tragically but inevitably. It was a day that I had anticipated with a sense of dread
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One by one‚ the raindrops fell onto my head as I looked out onto the front yard‚ eagerly waiting for the postman to make his delivery. Feeling my hair drenched and frizzing up didn’t make me flinch as it usually did. There was only one thing that could summon that feeling. In the distance I could start to hear the grumble of the postman’s bike. As my ears twitched to the nearing of the roaring sound‚ I immediately got up off the veranda and paced towards the front gate. It was only a minute later
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friend I’ve ever had. She supported me through everything. They had been together since Grade 7 and now in Grade 9. Angelina’s heart broke apart to think she would never see her best friend again. Chapter 2 There I was sitting on the porch in my backyard looking at the picture of me and Siline. It was taken last summer yet it brought me the ripe memories of the beautiful moments left behind. It all started off with both of them meeting each other on the first day of grade 7. Angelina was being
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