Descriptive Essay : ' The Bright Moonlight '

When people lose their dignity, they also lose a part of the very thing that makes them human. Despair, hopelessness, fear and apathy are all ways a human can lose their humanity. The eyes provide a window onto the soul, and thus a view on the person’s mental state. The eyes also function in reverse, as a symbolic gesture of control over someone. All of this is present in Night, by Elie Wiesel, an account of human tragedy, human cruelty, human dignity, and the loss thereof.

Over 11 million people were killed during the Holocaust, 1.1 million were children and 6 million were Jewish. In the novel titled Night by Elie Wiesel, it tells about a kid name Elie Wiesel and his experience during the Holocaust. This novel will will also explain his thoughts/feelings during this tragic event. During the tragic event, Elie Wiesel lost his mother when the Holocaust started and lost his father at the end of the Holocaust. Three qualities that contributed to Wiesel’s survival was his intelligence, when he hid his left arm, his bravery, when he refused to separate from his father during the selection, and his determination, when he decided to not stop running during the flee.

And then, the day I had feared of most, finally arrived. We lost our father, the only figure I truly felt safe with. After months of mourning and painful transformations, our mother fell sick. In those terrible days, days during which I was locked in the basement most of the time, for my safety and even more: for the safety of my family, I was incapable of helping. To this, I regret even today.

I glance amusedly at the photo placed before me. The bright and smiling faces of my family stare back me, their expressions depicting complete happiness. My mind drifted back to the events of the day that the photo was taken. It was Memorial Day and so, in the spirit of tradition my large extended family had gathered at the grave of my great grandparents. The day was hot and I had begged my mother to let me join my friends at the pool. However, my mother had refused. Inconsolable, I spent most of the day moping about sulkily. The time came for a group picture and so my grandmother arranged us all just so and then turned to me saying, "You'd better smile Emma or you'll look back at this and never forgive yourself." Eager to please and

The story of Neil and Sharon Bernardi is undeniably heart wrenching. The English couple watched their first three children pass away just hours after their births. Their fourth child, Edward, lived – despite frequent, day long seizures and other central nervous system abnormalities – until the age of twenty one. In the meantime, Neil and Sharon attempted to have three more children, all of whom died from due complications before reaching age two. Years passed before the couple learned that their suffering originated from mitochondrial defects present in Sharon’s cells.

Strutting through the familiar, gate worn by time, I spread my arms, taking in the saccharine aroma of the fresh grass. The remaining glimmers of the sun glisten on every blade that peeks through the moist soil, composing a sea of sparkling beauty, only comparable to a poem. The meadow is breathtaking this evening, as the sun sets behind the trees in the distance, leaving a glow of pinks, peaches, ambers, and crimsons behind as if a bowl of fruit had exploded in the sky.

The canvas was huge and intriguing. Her teacher blocked the middle of the whole forest and seemed to be painting the final details for when she finally stepped back a fiery sun illuminated the silhouette of a child and its mother basking in the light that seemed to signify a tomorrow. It was captivating, although the darkness of the forest seemed to outweigh the light of the sun the possibility of reaching a better tomorrow was overwhelming that it touched her

“That Evening Sun” by William Faulkner is a good example of a great emotional turmoil transferred directly to the readers through the words of a narrator who does not seem to grasp the severity of the turmoil. It is a story of an African American laundress who lives in the fear of her common-law husband Jesus who suspects her of carrying a white man's child in her womb and seems hell bent on killing her.

Lori and Scotty came to my childhood home to pick up me and my mother up. They were on their way to a doctor’s appointment for Scotty. They were worried because my half-brother was lethargic, weak, and seemed to have the flu or a cold over and over again. At this age I was unclear on what was going on and or how serious it was that he was sick all the time. All I knew was that the adults, mainly his mother, were extremely concerned about him. To me everything was the same he still looked like any other almost four year old child with his puppy dog brown eyes and soft dark curls that had never been cut. Scotty was such a happy little boy and His happiness was infectious. The smile on his face spread from his face to mine like the

carried a soothing vibe, the sky was peachy and had pink undertones, everyone stepped out and clustered to get a better view and angles for their pictures. The little kids had many grass-stains all around their clothing. The adults discussed about a future celebration. Everyone seemed very friendly and close. A small boy wanted to get the contrast of the light and dark that transitioned through the block. He wanted to get a better view so he passed the neighborhood line. Willy! A mother shouted. Get Back here! Willy ignored his mother and kept walking towards the other side. He felt the embarrassment at first, but he couldn't afford the opportunity for his photography project. A guard appeared and scold him to return back. You have guts kid, a lot of it. Your father wouldn't approve go

"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in the camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never." (9)

The doorbell rang. sky dragged her feet to the door, thinking it was her takeout when she opened the door all that was there was a small box and an envelope addressed to her. She grabbed the things and went off to her room. she began to open the letter, she noticed that there was no key for the box just a note and a piece of gum. Sky when on and tried to pry the box open but all she could see through the cracks were bright blue lights. Sky went off and grabbed the small note and began to read it, Dear, sky We are the no faces, we chose you out of millions of people, if someone is chosen from us it's a great one if you would like to see us please chew the gum

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.

It was three o’clock in the morning. Outside the window, the sky was still dark. There were barely any stars in the sky, and no cloud cluttered. The sky was painfully dark and motionless. Except for the faint light from the moon, everything seems lifeless. In a dark room, there was a girl sitting up on the bed, leaning on the wall beside her. She was looking out the window. Through the window, the girl can see the sky and the top of some buildings, however, nothing special or attractive. But, the girl has been staring at it for almost an hour now, silently and peacefully.

In Phaedo, Socrates tells of the form Beauty existing as itself by itself along with a Good and a Great (Phaedo, 100b). He explains that is something is described as beautiful, it is only described as so because something beautiful shares the same meaning as the Beautiful (Phaedo, 100c). He also tells, “But I simply, naively, and perhaps foolishly cling to this, that nothing else makes it beautiful other than the presence of, or the sharing in, or however you may describe its relationship to that Beautiful we mentioned, for I will not insist on the precise nature of the relationship, but that all beautiful things are beautiful by the Beautiful” (Phaedo, 100d). In telling this, Socrates is saying that the beautiful does not exist by itself, but instead, it itself is Beauty. In order to make sense of Socrates’s definition of Beauty, I think that one must understand the difference between the beautiful and the Beautiful. The beautiful coincides with the visible because the idea of beauty is subjective to the human viewing the beautiful object. The Beautiful corresponds with the the invisible because it is objective and perfect, and Beauty is a concept that never changes.