Trench Dialectical Journal

This work evoked strong fascination within me – I have always been fascinated with war. I have also specifically been particularly fascinated with gas masks and the concept of trench warfare. Dix’s portrayal of the battlefield from his first-hand experience in fighting in this war comes off as extremely grim; from the presence of barbed wire to what is left of a tree on the right side that gives off an appearance similar to that of Satan’s pitchfork, Dix is giving off a graphic representation of war that is blatantly grisly – he is not hiding the fact that there is death along the battlefront and it is something that is occurring in massive proportions. Deriving from that observation, killing others is nothing to be proud of. It is essentially murder,

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.” “In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.” “All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy,” This significant quote from Brave New World had moved innumerable readers’ heart, so do I. Exaggeration? No. It’s the satire to the false meaning of the universal happiness, and it’s this quote which made me had rethink what do I really want and the way of living I want to choose. Because the deep influence and rumination brought by the book, I would like to say

1. I would put myself in the place of the man on the horse he looks like he could be the leader, so the leader.

The underworld seemed to be getting colder and I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d fled the room that was lit or because Hades’s heart had been nearly ripped out. I was weeping pretty hard by now, feeling awfully betrayed and as lonely as my injurer. I felt my way around in the darkness for a while, thankful to the slight bluish glow that seemed to at least partially lighten ones way down in the underworld.

Days earlier, I remember when the German soldiers rounded us all up. They shouted and demanded us to follow them; once we turned the corner, I saw them. The cattle cars that would lead me to my death. A few minutes pass and and all 80 of us are piled into the cattle cars. Slowly the train moans as it gradually starts to move and the farther we go; the farther we travel away from the only place I called home. I decided to close my eyes and envision this wasn’t happening, but I was awoken from my daydream by an ear piercing howl. My eyes shoot open and I spot a lady screaming, “Fire! Fire!” (Wiesel 23). While her little boy sits there bawling his little eyes out. My father walked up to her trying to explain we’d be there very soon, and after

The second some portion of this book is more centered around how Augusts cherished one feel about him and with him. I welcome the writer for taking from August family and companions point of view since it will help perusers comprehend the story better with more noteworthy profundity and feeling. For example, just August's family can catch superior to anything anybody what he needs to experience. A decent illustration of would be that they generally guard August against open and never dither. To me, creator's message was excessively mindful individuals of how little acknowledgment we have, and how little we bargain? I trust that on the off chance that it was my kin in August spot I would act likewise to August's kin and folks. It is just characteristic that we think more about our blood relations than whatever other relationship.

If you read the diary of a high school girl, what could you learn about her? The name of her best friend, what kind of a person she is, and maybe even signs of troubles deeper than the bad grade she got on her last chemistry exam would pop out at you. She probably would not explicitly state these things, either—they would become apparent simply by looking at how often her best friend’s name appeared within the pages, how she interacted with the people around her, and how she described her thoughts and feelings. Seeing things directly from her perspective would give you a unique look at who she was as a person, what her relationships with other people were like, and what her take on events was, all without ever being told what they were like

Gene Forrester, the main character of A Separate Peace, tells a story of when he was in school. This story takes place during the time pf World War II. Gene is a well-minded boy who, at times, lets jealousy take over. If this book was narrated by Phineas, or Finny, it would have a happier nature to it. Gene is a smart, kind boy who thinks deeply into the problems of the world at the time. Finny, who is almost the complete opposite, sees conflict as he wants to view it. They are very similar in some ways as they share the same interests as the other.

You will not believe what's happened this month. Before I proceed with my usual banter, I would like to greet you and follow through with the formalities in our monthly letters. How are you and Pa? What are you up to during this time of despair? Anyways, on with my stories. This month I encountered one of my biggest personal achievements yet; I single handedly went into a German Aerodrome and was able to rid of three of their planes and fly back to our base intact. I know you and Pa always tell me that I should know that these are people that we are fighting against. But sometimes it is so hard to view these Germans as people. It's the pain and anguish that they cause us that fuels the hatred that's depicted in most slurs and the overall attitude

I exhale a long, frustrated sigh as I look around the old, battered up, brown and decaying café. It was amidst the start of the French Revolution, and circumstances were heating up. Everyone were in a small groups chattering away at nothing in particular as I stand at the slightly raised platform, waiting for the last few representatives to come. I, Pascal Beaumont, was the organizer of the raid that will be held at the Bastille, in Paris, on July 14, 1789. Tomorrow was July 14, 1789, the big day. Such an evil thing to do, some might think, but not in my situation. I was thirsty for revenge, for the blood that belonged to the royalty, for death. That rascal, King Louis XVI would pay for the lives he took from the peasants. They would never

Chapter 1 A young woman appears out of nowhere and quickly catches up to another who's dashing along a moonlit lane. "Are we late?" She asks as she falls into step besides the older woman. "No not yet, but we need to hurry, we don't have much time." "Follow me," the older woman replies, and her dark cloak billows about casting shadows on the high stone walls that border the lane. They walked side by side in silence for a long ways and then through a set of huge iron gates swung opened before them and onto a narrow driveway. A manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the windows. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as speeding toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though

In high school, I struggled with both math and physics. Between the two, physics was more challenging for me than math. When my father realized I was failing both subjects (with flying colors) he immediately hired a tutor for me. Prior to getting help, I spent a lot of time in circles trying to figure out one question after another. For some reason I could not get the hang of physics. I started to feel embarrassed about not know how to solve my math and physics problems when I realized that one of my closest girlfriend was doing well in both subjects. After taking a quiz, I would hide my grade from my classmates because I was so embarrassed about it. When my father received my first quarter report card he was very disappointed

The war has been dragging on for far longer than predicted. Life in the trenches is dreadful. The constant bombardment from the enemy causes many to run and hid, along with many getting what we are calling shellshocked. We use it to describe when one can’t move with no visible injury or when they mentally can’t fight. But the worst has to be the rats, the rats are over the size of our house cats, we call them corpse rats for the soul reason that the rats eat the dead that laid in no man's land. Some of us shoot them for sport. The lice and trench foot is minor. But the Storm Troopers that we’ve been hearing about are fighting, their lightning quick attacks that demolish the line is one thing I don’t want to see. I hope Erik is okay, and well.

I tune my ears to listen for the click of the pen as I force my fingers to work, my ears buzz tuning out the sound of guns shooting into the distance. My sweaty fingertips nervously grip the pen as I watch the scary scene unveil before my eyes. The sound of swords piercing skin was too unbearable. My eyes widen as I see many men lying on the floor with pools of blood surrounding them. Their ghastly faces burning in my brain as I try to look away. The men in blue collide with the men in plain clothes, then more plainclothes come charging up to the hill where the men in blue were. Two men from each side stand in the front of their people, each proudly holding a flag. The confederate flag and the union flag were shown with pride as the men holding the flags were taken down by their opponents.

The elven hero was fighting a goblin half his size who was only armed with a mace that looked like it couldn't even crush a flower. They ran at one another and sent their weapons into each others' side sending all the air in their bodies flying out of their mouths. Benjamin watched the duel behind a crowd of onlookers who were all placing bets about who would be the last elf or creature standing. The elven hero ultimately won the duel, but he had been severely wounded which meant the ground was covered in plenty of his blood. Once the onlookers returned to their everyday lives Benjamin knelt down beside a puddle of blood and filled a small class vile with the liquid. Benjamin then walked over to the goblin and ripped out his lungs that he placed