Sheps Monologue

I kept writing. It was hard, but I could get everything off of my chest. I could explain to people what had happened to me. I could tell my English teacher. It was a little hard, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. Greasers didn’t cry.

Hey, my name's Miguel and I'm from Joliet, Il. DePauw's my top choice at the moment, and I hope to be an Honors Scholars and get into the school of music for clarinet. I used to play soccer, but I plan on playing club soccer this spring, so there is a good chance that I'll participate in intramurals. I plan on going Greek and getting involved in clubs. Netflix is great. I'm not that weird (I think). People say I'm Kinda funny, but I think they're just say it to be nice. I'm also looking for a roommate and meeting more people before fall would be great, so message

Her writing style has double meaning to it. The serious tone hides between the lines of humor. Now that we have established a foundation for our argument let’s move on to analyzing Cope’s poem by looking at what is happening within it.

Greg Heffley goes back to when he was a baby in his moms stomach and tells how he would love to go back……...but when he comes out, its a whole new world. Greg goes through so much in his years of life, and one day, he has a school dance that everyone is going to and he wasn't going to miss it. He had Rowley Jefferson be his wingman, which I personally think that is a wrong choice. Rowley tries to get girls to like greg by saying how strong and handsome he is, but will it work? Almost every girl in gregs school is taken, and half of the girls thinks greg is a dork and doesn't want to go with him. Just then this girls abigail doesn't have a date to the dance and what do you think rowley did? well i think u guys dont need me to tell you. Greg

"Abandoned and afraid, I was left crying beside the ocean underneath a bridge. My recollection is hazy and sporadic, as any memory of an infant would be. However, something I do recall, was the sound of a sweet voice, singing beautifully as my tears were wiped away and I drifted off to sleep. I remember waking in a strange place I've never seen before, frightened and afraid. But I don't really remember anything after that moment. My memory remains blurred from that moment on, and anything I could recall would probably only be reflecting my deceitful imagination. The first clear memory I have was from a moment while I was five years of age. I was sitting at the dinner table, with my guardian Shelia, who I believed was my mother. She excused

It bothers me how everyone denies responsibility towards Helter Skelter. They think I am a murderer because it is so much easier to do that than acknowledge their own faults. They help shape a society where parents just abandon their kids all alone. These kids are exposed to horrific realities like Vietnam and they want to run away from it, and they run to me because I respect them enough to tell them the truth. To tell them black from white.

Filled with self-loathing, Frankie’s character is afraid and disconnected in this passage. The author conveys a depressing tone through character description, syntax, and subject matter.

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t we drop this conversation for now and you tell me what we should do for your father’s birthday. Should we throw a surprise birthday for him? Maybe make him his favorite meal, meatloaf and mashed potatoes?”

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

As I entered the fourth circle of hell the air around me shimmered, like I walked through an invisible wall. Suddenly the world around me changed. I was in a large city filled with tall skyscrapers, cars and people that walked hurriedly everywhere. I came across Fagin “The Jew” the old man who used Oliver Twist and his friends to steal from people to feed his greed. Approaching Fagin, I asked him what he sin was.

Often at times there are many voices in one poem. These voices represent the different views that come from the same material that are portrayed by the buzz that the bee elicit in the hive. The proposal that Collins is trying to exude is that there is never one way to read a poem. The type of approach will vary with reader and who they are, but by having a radical approach it will help to enhance our understanding of what the poem means. Collins wants the reader to feel free when analyzing a poem: “I want them to waterski across the surface of the poem waving at the author’s name on the shore.” As a teacher you try to pummel depth into your students’ minds and push them into the direction of understanding. The speaker declares that the grapple to illuminating meaning and the amount of time where the reader does not understand adds to the worth of the poem. The parallel to the surface of water, where you have not attained the depth even though you know it’s there is important to how much it takes to find the true meaning of a poem. While reading this poem it have the outlook on how poetry places more of aln emphasis on us to be able to pick apart the undisclosed meaning and essentially to be able to pull apart the poem without a fixed structure. By doing it this way it is able to help the audience to build upon skills to help interpret and understand, which substantially is important throughout any source of literature. We

I know it's been a while and I’ve been fine, up until now, because something came up. Marcus died. It happened on O'connell street in the capital of dublin. I was there when it happened. The enemy had me pinned down, but that didn’t stop me from winning. I got curious to as of who he was, seeing as of how good he was, but that's when I realised my mistake. When I checked out who it was, I discovered that it was Marcus. I didn't think about who was shooting at me from the distance, only the fact that he was. He died at my hands, and I never even thought it would be him, the enemy sniper, it had never crossed my mind! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead. He’s dead, because of my decision. I felt a wave of nauseous, and all these emotions,

My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.

A deeper level is achieved in the mind of the narrator when she acknowledges her own mental state and that she is eager to leave her sad mood. While the man is described as animal-like and savage, she stands “In moody sadness, on the giddy brink” (9) full of contemplation and reflection on her own worldview. The poet is quite self-aware while the lunatic is not, and through her intelligent banter, the reader can see the extreme difference in personality. The poet’s own self-conception, however, is ironic in that she is wishing for ignorance that can only be achieved by lack of a self-concept. The catch-22 she experiences is perplexing, both to her and the reader.