Geralda Descriptive Writing

Theodor Seuss Geisel is best known around the world under the pseudonym Dr. Seuss for writing phenomenal children’s books, which taught children how to read and imagine the world in a different way. Geisel wanted children to build a critical life skill by most importantly learning how to read. He is an American icon because his work represents children’s literature, cartoon surrealism, and nonsense poetry. Geisel’s personal life influenced his work by the way he was raised as a child, his education, and marriages that motivated him to become one of the most popular children’s author’s during the twentieth century.

Predicting clinical course of IPF is extremely difficult and despite the progress in the field reviewed in this article, survival prediction in the single IPF patient remains an unmet clinical need. This task is limited by multiple factors. On one hand diagnostic delays related to different patients symptoms perception and healthcare operators awareness, but also different biological disease characteristics might cause a high variability of disease presentation at time of diagnosis. Furthermore, largely unknown triggers might dramatically affect disease course, with patients who originally displayed a stable disease progressing to rapid decline in lung function. In this respect, recent data suggest that even medical interventions considered standard therapy until few years ago might have contribute to disease progression in a significant fraction of IPF patients83. On the other hand, the complex pathophysiology of IPF, that is characterized by a combination of gas exchange, ventilatory and cardiovascular response abnormalities, limits the correlation between single traditional clinical

As we waited for our food, I took to peering out the diner’s large storefront window that we seated ourselves next to and I people watched as the citizens of Mt. Harrison went on about their daily lives.

The day I went to Delgrosso One day I went to Delgrosso. When I went there it was still light out. When we went my sister came,mom, and my other sister came with me.When we went there was a lot of my sister came my mom came and my other sister came.When we went there we rode a lot of fun rides but there was one scary ride.

I have only been at Marist for a few days, but the many experiences I have had here made me realize how fortunate I am to be a part of this community. One of my favorite parts of being at Marist, at least while the weather is nice, is walking to class. The view of the Hudson River with the hills in the background and the train sometimes passing by is like a scene from a painting. It is such an enormous difference from what I have been used to my whole life. Gone are the days of having four minutes to walk between classes trying to push between tons of people in cramped hallways. At Marist, there are lots of students outside walking to class, jogging, driving, or biking. I really like the freedom of the campus where everyone is doing their own thing. It sometimes feels like walking through Central Park.

Passing the Fernwood sign, as I approach her gravesite early morning before work on 7/10/15 at 6:30 AM. I drive up an uneven gravel driveway dodging the grooves, looking at the back mirror noticing the dust my back tires are kicking up. The feeling of crunch vibrating off my tires, as the feeling you get when you are getting a massage on the nail salon massage chair. Just the calm vibration running from your toes to the fingers on the steering wheel. The grooves freshly filled with water from the rain the night before. Driving past the rusted looking water pumps used to feed the plants. Looking through window, noticing all different flowers laying on individual gravestone. Some vary from fake flowers but most are real freshly bloomed flowers,

A cloud of steam escaped the machine and encompassed Addison’s face, fogging up her glasses and dampening her skin as she finished brewing the order. Her feet swiftly padded again the retro black and white checked tiles as she moved to the red counter.

A cool, fall, light, Oklahoma breeze blows through the trees. The sound of rustling leaves, and the cheerful chatter of my friends, fills my ears. My rainbow colored hoodie is wrapped around me. People canoeing on the lake call my name, “Graeson!” They say, I smile and wave in their direction. I wonder if they can see me from my spot behind the trees and poles. All of the sudden the person in front of me in line steps up to the ladder.

She smiled as the refreshing breeze blew into her face, filling her nose with the sweet smell of her flowers. Maria Brown always enjoyed the cool mornings. She adored the sound of the bird chirping and feeling of the warm sunlight shining down her body, making her feel drowsy. But today was one of those days with too many things to do. The old Mrs. Brown looked like she was being controlled by invisible strings from above, only her puppeteer was drunk. She had that brilliant smile on her face, and her cheeks were faintly pink from all her excitement. She was getting a visitor today, her dearest granddaughter was coming to visit from the big city.

As the perspiration beaded on my forehead and dripped down my face, the heat bounced back off the streets causing a tactical illusion that the temperature outside seemed to be increasing with each heartbeat. As my parents walked towards the what seemed to be the endless walkway, Myla and I followed. I could hear Myla pant as her tongue swung from side to side in effort to keep cool. “Are we there, yet?” I asked my parents with an agonizing tone. “We are!” they responded quickly. With those two words, my 10-year-old eyes, enlarged in order to catch a glimpse of what I had waited for all

The only thing constantly in my head over the duration of my deployment was my wife. I may have been fighting for my country, but she’s the only reason why my mind still orders my muscles to strain themselves. Every time I slept, it was like she was actually with me and I could feel her soft touch that was more soothing than the ocean breeze on a ninety degree day back in Oregon. Well, at least when I was mentally able to sleep, which only came about three nights a week. Unlike a large number of the men on base, I hadn’t broken down yet. Not physically, not mentally. What I didn’t know, was that next time I woke up from a dream with my wife, and the next time I jumped up into the cockpit to fly an aircraft, would be the last time I was capable

Today was just like any other. Barrett awoke to a bright sunny day. He moved to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the cool hardwood floor. Barrett wiggled his toes and wondered why his feet were so large. Barrett’s body was proportional and his clark hair and eyes left him handsome looking. Barrett brought himself to his feet and walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth before dressing himself. While buttoning the last button on his shirt he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth before dressing himself. While buttoning the last button on his shirt he walked to his mirror to see the finished look before going his way. The mirror was 5 feet tall and about 2 feet wide. The peeling gold trim accentuated it’s rustic look. Just

A step leads you to a white door.Dents plunging downward forming squares at the top, immediately followed by vertical rectangles forming the same dent formation. With a light push it swings open, a bang and rattle ensues, with two steps you enter a vibrant room. It’s small but seems to continue to grow upward.Soon the feeling of newly placed soft carpet on the bottom of your feet, making you want to lay there for hours. A kick,trying to force the door to close, it doesn’t close. Turning around , securing a hand around the handle, with a push and a lot of body weight the door eventually closes.Suddenly a teal slanted mirror is seen revealing what caused all the commotion .

pizza was beautifully cooked on a crispy crust that didn't sag in the middle when he picked it up. The most memorable dish was Vince’s gnocchi; a plate full of light-as-air, tiny pillows of fresh potato goodness, smothered in a mouthwatering, rich and creamy gorgonzola sauce. Vince had never tasted anything so divine. It was delicious. The men savored their well deserved, exquisite dinner and wine engaged in happy conversation about the day’s events. Stan was relieved to be away from the sadness which encompassed his home in California and Vince was grateful to have Stan’s companionship and moral support.

As social beings, the innate, evolutionary instinct of human beings is to conform to the greater societal norms. To be a nonconformist means that one not only turns their back against society, but they also go against evolution. In other words, to be a nonconformist is to reject the benefits of having the support of a group, thus rejecting better chances at survival. But what happens when the greater societal norms are based on inhumane, monstrous ideas of a crazed political leader? What happens when the greater societal norms ultimately lead to the demolition of an ancient civilization rooted in rich cultural tradition? What happens when the societal norms do not align with an individual’s mental condition? The complexity of a well