Free Essays on Women of Ancient Greece

In today’s society, rights among people are as near equivalent as they have ever been. The jobs of people in the public eye have become mixed in each perspective. Through work, relaxation, family, political, and strict issues, the two people participate. This equity was a troublesome and opportune excursion for ladies, and it is horrible to consider women’s non-existent privileges of antiquated occasions. Be that as it may, a potential adjustment to the regular perspective on women’s lives in old Greece might be invalidated by an article by Christine Mitchell Havelock. The proof delivered is solid and pertinent to the contention, yet the general effect on the origination of a woman’s life in antiquated Greece is not really modified. Ladies of old Greece might not have been as despised and thoroughly prohibited in the manner that old male-ruled â€Å"literary and legitimate sources† propose. The contention could maybe be all the more explicitly characterized by saying that the lady assumed a critical job in numerous pieces of the funerary administrations of perished friends and family, just as a functioning part in the household undertakings of the home. This contention is effectively bolstered by Havelock’s proof found in a progression of Greek funerary containers: Funerary services were critical to the antiquated Greek. Ceremonial exercises, for example, parades of grieving occupied the lanes in the midst of death. The grievers were both male and female. Both genders were dynamic in the grieving, however as an obligation ladies were to be passionate. Men held one turn noticeable all around to show the lamenting while ladies typically held two submits the air. This proof is critically strong, demonstrating that ladies were associated with these entombment functions. (Havelock 50) A scene of significant noteworthiness can be seen on a container by and by in a historical center in New York. The jar gives extraordinary detail in indicating a dead male body encompassed by his close family. His significant other is to one side ocean... Free Essays on Women of Ancient Greece Free Essays on Women of Ancient Greece In today’s society, rights among people are as near equivalent as they have ever been. The jobs of people in the public eye have become mixed in each angle. Through work, relaxation, family, political, and strict issues, the two people partake. This uniformity was a troublesome and convenient excursion for ladies, and it is awful to consider women’s non-existent privileges of old occasions. In any case, a potential modification to the normal perspective on women’s lives in antiquated Greece might be invalidated by an article by Christine Mitchell Havelock. The proof delivered is solid and pertinent to the contention, however the general effect on the origination of a woman’s life in antiquated Greece is not really modified. Ladies of antiquated Greece might not have been as loathed and thoroughly taboo in the manner that old male-ruled â€Å"literary and legitimate sources† recommend. The contention could maybe be all the more explicitly characterized by saying that the lady assumed a huge job in numerous pieces of the funerary administrations of perished friends and family, just as a functioning part in the household undertakings of the home. This contention is effectively bolstered by Havelock’s proof found in a progression of Greek funerary containers: Funerary functions were critical to the antiquated Greek. Formal exercises, for example, parades of grieving occupied the avenues in the midst of death. The grievers were both male and female. Both genders were dynamic in the grieving, however as an obligation ladies were to be passionate. Men held one deliver the air to show the lamenting while ladies typically held two turns noticeable all around. This proof is urgently steady, demonstrating that ladies were associated with these internment services. (Havelock 50) A scene of significant hugeness can be seen on a container by and by in a historical center in New York. The jar gives incredible detail in indicating a dead male body encompassed by his close family. His significant other is to one side ocean...

LifeSong by Casting Crowns free essay sample

Inside the lines of Does Anybody Hear Her is a message of characterizing yourself and setting a heading and way throughout everyday life. With everything of this world pulling at her each conceivable way, judgment penetrating her regardless of what direction she decides to go. The lady in the melody faces the regular battles of life that some may manage yet others live with. It appears that at the outset the ways and allurements in life are starting to control her life. She attempts and attempts to be her and to get up to speed to the real world yet she surrenders to the world, she parts with herself. The further she wanders the further she is behind and increasingly troublesome it will be to make up for lost time to the way she needs to be on. No one tunes in to her emotions and contemplations, recognizing her not, making her wanderer toward this path. The individuals who should mind the most are the least she gets the solace and consolation she so frantically needs. The mix-ups she has made and needs to live with for a mind-blowing remainder gets grandiose looks, gazes, and expulsion from the individuals she once knew, she appears as though she has been segregated from the world. This little youngster is lost and befuddled about existence and which course she ought to go in. She is running, a hundred miles an hour off course, (lines 1-2). I accept she is battling through her stroll throughout everyday life. Things may not be going the manner in which she trusted or arranged. It appears as though everything is conflicting with her and the things of significance are coasting ceaselessly. The things of awful are turning into her life, they are assuming control over her life she once had. Be that as it may, the battle continues deteriorating and more regrettable and increasingly entangled. In lines 4-8 it tells how awful the circumstance is: But the gorge ever augmenting, in the profundities of her chilly heart, so she sets out on another misfortune just to discover, shes an additional two years more established and shes three additional means behind. She is attempting with all that she needs to change however the gully or inconveniences augment and deteriorate m aking it considerably all the more testing to change and go the correct way wherein she so urgently needs to come back to. Also, in light of the fact that she feels unfit to transform she proceeds on her way making it considerably more behind. What is our reality coming to, and the spot that ought to check the most, our houses of worship. We should be there for one another as well as for the lost and forlorn individuals who need to hear reality, consolation, and bolster they dont go anyplace else. Be that as it may, that is the one spot where they may get the brunt, all things considered, In lines 9-14 it states, Does anyone hear her? Would anybody be able to see? Or on the other hand does anyone by any chance know shes going down today. We should be the ones who give them the affection and bolster the world never gives them. We have to look further into the hearts of the individuals not for their external appearance however for their internal magnificence. To burrow a more profound passage to comprehend and see their difficulties and troubles they are managing. Under the shadow of our steeple, with all the lost and desolate individuals. Looking for the expectation that is concealed in you and me. Our activities in the con gregation should coordinate our activities in broad daylight, there ought to be no distinction. Our places of worship ought not be changing into the manner in which the world is acting and what the world accepts is correct and that is the thing that is by all accounts happening. We as a congregation body need to persevere and do what a congregation should. (lead the individuals who need Him into the correct heading and not drive them away). We need not be the hindrance and reason the individuals who come to get the Word turn and run the other way. We must be that individual who isnt distinctive in various settings, theres such a significant number of out there who are searching for the expectation that is concealed in us. However, what number of individuals stray from us due to our activities, what number of have we really let fall. We should be that one she (or anybody) can race to when theyre in a difficult situation. We never comprehend what is really going on in someones individual life, which is the reason we should be that individual they can hurry to for help and solace. She is longing, for asylum and friendship, that she never found at home. She is scanning for a legend to ride in-to ride in and make all the difference, (lines 15-20). Be that as it may, on the off chance that we turn the other way she will long for another thing to address and achieve her issues. What's more, in strolls her Mr. Perfect, and he realizes exactly what to state, fleeting slip of reason, and she parts with herself, (lines 21-24). In light of the obliviousness and childishness of the individuals she required most, she urgently went to an alternate source to get it. Men have a method of flattering a young lady and causing them to feel totally astonishing. Due to his smooth moves and sensitive method of causing a lady to feel gr eat, he got what he needed and she currently has the solace and bolster that was unfilled, she so urgently required. Being as frantically as a few and not having the consideration she required the most she may have picked a man who might not have even been the one she truly needed throughout everyday life except she goes to him for the solace and bolster he will give her. Witnessing this on a day by day bases is so disillusioning, the congregation and others too should be there for the companions, family, neighbors, and outsiders around them. Alongside the confusions happening in her life comes the shocking circumstance of engaging in sexual relations out of marry lock and getting pregnant. As a congregation body, most look down on that when truly we should be looking further into their heart and emotions. In the last scarcely any lines, lines 25-28, saying If judgment lingers under each steeple, If elevated looks from grand individuals, Cant see past her red letter, and we never at any point met her. The vast majority of us know the story behind the importance of the red letter however a few of us including me hadnt knew about that at all and never comprehended what it implied. In the time of 1642, in a Puritan town a young lady was sent to jail. She was being rebuffed for infidelity. In the late spring of that year she left the jail with a child in her arms and a red fabric with the letter An imprinted on it stuck to the bosom of her apparel. The red A was a mark meaning philanderer and a wrongdoing patch so to represen t all to see. She took on all the blame and disgrace upon herself, the dad of the infant was not known due to shield himself from mortification and notoriety. We havent even met the individuals who come into the congregation however yet we keep on giving them outlandish looks making a decision about them for what we have no clue what is happening in their life. We have to step out of the youre not sufficient for us perspective in get a more extensive handle on what genuinely is going on in someones life. We have to support them and not drive them further away. For on the off chance that we dont we are making the individuals who dont know Him and need assistance, stray in the other heading. Were driving them further into their pained life they were attempting to escape from and find support for. Presently truly think..how many have you let fall?

Chancellorsville, battle of

Chancellorsville, battle of Chancellorsville, battle of, May 2â€"4, 1863, in the American Civil War. Late in Apr., 1863, Joseph Hooker, commanding the Union Army of the Potomac, moved against Robert E. Lee, whose Army of Northern Virginia (less than half the size of Hooker's) had remained entrenched on the south side of the Rappahannock River after the battle of Fredericksburg . Hooker, with four corps, crossed the river above Fredericksburg and took up a strong position near Chancellorsville, located 10 mi (16 km) W of Fredericksburg; he sent John Sedgwick, with two corps, to cross below Chancellorsville. Although outflanked, Lee did not retreat but, leaving 10,000 men under Jubal A. Early to watch Sedgwick, moved on Hooker, who fell back to a defensive position in the wilderness around Chancellorsville. Lee attacked on May 2: T. J. (Stonewall) Jackson led his 2d Corps on a brilliant 15-mi (24-km) flanking movement against the Union right, while Lee, with his small remaining force, feinted along the rest o f the line. Jackson fell upon and routed the surprised Union troops but, unfortunately for the South, was mortally wounded by his own men. The next day the Confederate wings united (James Ewell Brown Stuart succeeding Jackson) and drove Hooker back further. Hooker failed to use his superior forces, but called for Sedgwick, who drove Early from Marye's Heights (May 3) and reached Salem Church, 5 mi (8 km) W of Fredericksburg. There, part of Lee's force joined Early and repulsed Sedgwick (May 4â€"5). Sedgwick and Hooker then withdrew across the river. Chancellorsville, Lee's last great victory, led to his invasion of the North in the Gettysburg campaign . See J. Bigelow, The Campaign of Chancellorsville (1910); E. J. Stackpole, Chancellorsville: Lee's Greatest Battle (1958); J. Luvaas and H. W. Nelson, The U.S. Army Guide to the Battles of Chancellorsville and Fredericksburg (1989). The Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia, 6th ed. Copyright © 2012, Columbia University Pre ss. All rights reserved. See more Encyclopedia articles on: U.S. History

Analysis Of Nathaniel Hawthorne s The Minister s Black...

The concept of the individual is a prominent one in Romantic literature. One of the major themes of individualism in Romanticism is the notion of characters discovering themselves through their experiences. This discovery of one’s self highlights for the reader the author’s opinions on what it means to be an ideal person. Though light and dark Romanticism differ in some small aspects on this topic, the main point is the same. This is illustrated in the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson, as both authors profess that a person who has realized their ideal self has grown to possess an education and is willing to sacrifice worldly pleasures for the sake of progress. The first similar major theme in the works of these men is the need for education to reach a higher form of self. Though each man has a different definition for education, the core theme is the same. Nathaniel Hawthorne, in â€Å"The Minister’s Black Veil,† provides an example of education through the character of Mr. Hooper. Mr. Hooper, a minister, realizes the corruption of himself and others through sin and begins to wear a black veil on his face. In becoming educated about religion and more aware of himself, Mr. Hooper attains progress. He quickly becomes very popular amongst the people of the town for his sermons and services. Through this, Hawthorne shows the reader how becoming more educated about one’s religion is worthwhile. Furthermore, Hawthorne criticizes those who are ignorant of theirShow MoreRelatedAnalysis Of Nathaniel Hawthorne s The Minister s Black Veil 2532 Words   |  11 Pages If any single quality dominates the fiction of Nathaniel Hawthorne, it is a consistent fascination with the idea of human sin. This is explored and expressed in a wide variety of ways by him; a novel like The Scarlet Letter treats sin as more of a failing demanding understanding, while The House of the Seven Gables is a more complex treatment of sin, gu ilt, and redemption. So too do Hawthorne s short stories vary in how they address sin, but it remains clear that it is the core element of themRead MoreWho is Nathaniel Hawthorne?953 Words   |  4 Pagesthe utmost passion of her heart† is one of my favorite quotes that Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote from the Scarlet Letter. Nathaniel Hawthorne was an American writer, that wrote fictional stories. He was a gifted writer that was influenced to use his gift by a well known man, with the name of Ralph Waldo Emerson. I believe Nathaniel had an talent to make stories rhyme with detail, that sets the scene in your very, own mind. Hawthorne had a interesting life, he enjoyed writing short stories, like Twice-ToldRead MoreThe Whiteness of the Veil: Color and the veil in Hawthorne’s The Minister’s Black Veil and The Blithedale Romance1578 Words   |  6 Pagesto produce symbolic meaning. Blair addresses â€Å"The Minister’s Black Veil† and notes the repeated emphasis on the blackness of Father Hooper’s veil and the pallor as a reaction to it. â€Å"The design of this tale,† he asserts, â€Å"is one in which repeated patterns of light, then blackness, then whiteness meaningfully occur† (Blair 76). Similarly, Hawthorne’s novel The Blithedale Romance employs chiaroscuro for its characters, symbols and the veil motif in particular. B lair does not go further in his discussionRead MoreTheme Of The Ministers Black Veil1080 Words   |  5 PagesAnalysis of Symbolism in â€Å"The Minister’s Black Veil† Each individual has to make the choice to either dwell on their sin, or let go of their sins. Some people can let it go and move on, but some try to hide from their sin. Some even hide from the sins of others. In his short story â€Å"The Minister’s Black Veil,† Nathaniel Hawthorne creates an eerie tale about the veiled minister of Milford Village. The main character, Mr. Hooper starts wearing a veil to his sermons. The whole town is skepticalRead MoreSymbolism Of Nathaniel Hawthorne s Scarlet Letter And The Minister s Black Veil 1083 Words   |  5 Pagesof his writing counterparts, Nathaniel Hawthorne extensively uses symbolism in several of his major works to explore sin and human nature. The Scarlett Letter, â€Å"Young Goodman Brown† and â€Å"The Minister s Black Veil† are all vivid examples of this exploration and are the focus of this analysis. Before discussing his works, it is important to explore Hawthorne’s background to better understand how they connect to his writing and to his use of dark romanticism. Hawthorne came from Puritan ancestry. His

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Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 19-20 Free Essays

string(51) " of his fear like a deer caught in car headlights\." 19 JENNY’S HOUSE Jenny parked the Toyota behind Travis’s Chevy and killed the lights. â€Å"Well?† Travis said. Jenny said, â€Å"Would you like to come in?† â€Å"Well. We will write a custom essay sample on Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 19-20 or any similar topic only for you Order Now † Travis acted as if he had to think about it. â€Å"Yes, I’d love to.† â€Å"Give me a minute to go in and clear a path, okay?† â€Å"No problem, I need to check on something in my car.† â€Å"Thanks.† Jenny smiled with relief. They got out of the car. Jenny went into the house. Travis leaned against the door of the Chevy and waited for her to get inside. Then he threw open the car door and peeked inside. Catch was sitting on the passenger side, his face stuck in a comic book. He looked up at Travis and grinned. â€Å"Oh, you’re back.† â€Å"Did you play the radio?† â€Å"No way.† â€Å"Good. It’s wired into the battery directly; it’ll drain the current.† â€Å"Didn’t touch it.† Travis glanced at the suitcase on the backseat. â€Å"Keep an eye on that.† â€Å"You got it.† Travis didn’t move. â€Å"Is there something wrong?† â€Å"Well, you’re being awfully agreeable.† â€Å"I told you, I’m just glad to see you having a good time.† â€Å"You may have to stay the night in the car. You aren’t hungry, are you?† â€Å"Get a grip, Travis. I just ate last night.† Travis nodded. â€Å"I’ll check on you later, so stay here.† Travis closed the car door. Catch jumped to his feet and watched over the dashboard while Travis went into the house. Ironically, they were both thinking the same thing: in a little while this will all be over. Catch coughed and a red spiked heel shot out of his mouth and bounced off the windshield, spattering the glass with hellish spit. Robert had parked his truck a block away from his old house and walked up, hoping and dreading that he would catch Jenny with another man. As he approached the house, he saw the old Chevy parked in front of her Toyota. He had run through this scene a hundred times in his mind. Walk out of the dark, catch her with the guy, and shout â€Å"Ah ha!† Then things got sketchy. What was the point? He didn’t really want to catch her at anything. He wanted her to come to the door with tears streaming down her cheeks. He wanted her to throw her arms around him and beg him to come home. He wanted to assure her that everything would be fine and forgive her for throwing him out. He had run that scene through his mind a hundred times as well. After they made love for the third time, things got sketchy. The Chevy was not part of his preconceived scenes. It was like a preview, a teaser. It meant that someone was in the house with Jenny. Someone who, unlike Robert, had been invited. New scenes ran through his mind: knocking on the door, having Jenny answer, looking around her shoulder to see another man sitting on the couch, and being sent away. He couldn’t stand that. It was too real. Maybe it wasn’t a guy at all. Maybe it was one of the women from the coven who had stopped over to comfort Jenny in her time of need. Then the dream came back to him. He was tied to a chair in the desert again, watching Jenny make love with another man. The little monster was shoving saltines in his mouth. Robert realized he had been standing in the middle of the street staring at the house for several minutes, torturing himself. Just be adult about it. Go up and knock on the door. If she is with someone else, just excuse yourself and come back later. He felt an ache rising in his chest at the thought. No, just walk away. Go back to The Breeze’s trailer and call her tomorrow. The thought of another night alone with his heartbreak increased the ache in his chest. Robert’s indecision had always angered Jenny. Now it was paralyzing him. â€Å"Just pick a direction and go, Robert,† she would say. â€Å"It can’t be any worse than sitting here pitying yourself.† But it’s the only thing I’m good at, he thought. A truck rounded the corner and started slowly to roll up the street. Robert was galvanized into action. He ran to the Chevy and ducked behind it. I’m hiding in front of my own house. This is silly, he thought. Still, it was as if anyone who passed would know how small and weak he was. He didn’t want to be seen. The truck slowed almost to a stop as it passed the house, then the driver gunned the engine and sped off. Robert stayed in a crouch behind the Chevy for several minutes before he moved. He had to know. â€Å"Just pick a direction and go.† He decided to peek in the windows. There were two windows in the living room, about six feet off the ground. Both were old-style, weighted-sash types. Jenny had planted geraniums in the window boxes outside. If the window boxes were strong enough, he could hoist himself up and peek through the gap in the drawn curtains. Spying on your own wife was sleazy. It was dirty. It was perverse. He thought about it for a moment, then made his way across the yard to the windows. Sleazy, dirty, and perverse would be improvements over how he felt now. He grabbed the edge of the window box and tested his weight against it. It held. He pulled himself up, hooked his chin on the window box, and peered through the gap in the curtains. They were on the couch, facing away from him: Jenny and some man. For a moment he thought Jenny was naked, then he saw the thin straps of her black dress. She never wore that dress anymore. It gave out the wrong kind of message, she used to say, meaning it was too sexy. He stared at them in fascination, caught by the reality of his fear like a deer caught in car headlights. You read "Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 19-20" in category "Essay examples" The man turned to say something to Jenny, and Robert caught his profile. It was the guy from the nightmare, the guy he had seen in the Slug that afternoon. He couldn’t look any longer. He lowered himself to the ground. A knot of sad questions beat at him. Who was this guy? What was so great about this guy? What does he have that I don’t? Worst of all, how long has this been going on? Robert stumbled away from the house toward the street. They were sitting in his house, on his couch – the couch he and Jenny had saved up to buy. How could she do that? Didn’t everything in the house remind her of their marriage? How could she sit on his couch with some other man? Would they screw in his bed? The ache rose up in his chest at the thought, almost doubling him over. He thought about trashing the guy’s car. It was pretty trashed already, though. Flatten the tires? Break the windshield? Piss in the gas tank? No, then he would have to admit to spying. But he had to do something. Maybe he could find something in the car that would tell him who this home wrecker was. He peered through the Chevy’s windows. Nothing much to see: a few fast-food wrappers, a comic book on the front seat, and a Haliburton suitcase on the backseat. Robert recognized it immediately. He used to carry his four-by-five camera in the same model suitcase. He had sold the camera and given the suitcase to The Breeze for rent. Was this guy a photographer? One way to find out. He hesitated, his hand on the car door handle. What if the guy came out while Robert was rummaging through the car? What would he do? Fuck it. The guy was rummaging through his life, wasn’t he? Robert tried the door. It was unlocked. He threw it open and reached in. 20 EFFROM He was a soldier. Like all soldiers, in his spare moments he was thinking of home and the girl who waited for him there. He sat on a hill looking out over the rolling English countryside. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted during his long guard duty. He smoked a cigarette and watched the patterns the full moon made on the hills when the low cloud cover parted. He was a boy, just seventeen. He was in love with a brown-haired, blue-eyed girl named Amanda. She had down-soft hair on her thighs that tickled his palms when he pushed her skirt up around her hips. He could see the autumn sun on her thighs, even though he was staring over the spring-green hills of England. The clouds opened and let the moon light up the whole countryside. The girl pulled his pants down around his knees. The trenches were only four days away. He took a deep drag on the cigarette and stubbed it out in the grass. He let the smoke out with a sigh. The girl kissed him hard and wet and pulled him down on her. A shadow appeared on the distant hill, black and sharply defined. He watched the shadow undulate across the hills. It can’t be, he thought. They never fly under a full moon. But the cloud cover? He looked in the sky for the airship but could see nothing. It was silent except for the crickets singing sex songs. The countryside was still but for the shadow. He lost the vision of the girl. Everything was the huge, cigar-shaped shadow moving toward him, silent as death. He knew he should run, sound the alarm, warn his friends, but he just sat, watching. The shadow eclipsed the moonlight and he shivered, the airship was directly over him. He could just hear the engines as it passed. Then he was bathed in moonlight, the shadow behind him. He had survived. The airship had held its bellyful of death. Then he heard the explosions begin behind him. He turned and watched the flashes and fires in the distance, listened to the screams, as his friends at the base woke to find themselves on fire. He moaned and curled into a ball, flinching each time a bomb exploded. Then he woke up. There was no justice; Effrom was sure of it. Not an iota, not one scintilla, not a molecule of justice in the world. If there was justice, would he be plagued by nightmares from the war? If there was any justice would he be losing sleep over something that had happened over seventy years ago? No, justice was a myth, and it had died like all myths, strangled by the overwhelming reality of experience. Effrom was too uncomfortable to mourn the passing of justice. The wife had put the flannel sheets on the bed to keep him cozy and warm in her absence. (They still slept together after all those years; it never occurred to them to do any different.) Now the sheets were heavy and cold with sweat. Effrom’s pajamas clung to him like a rain-blown shroud. After missing his nap, he had gone to bed early to try to recapture his dreams of spandex-clad young women, but his subconscious had conspired with his stomach to send him a nightmare instead. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he could feel his stomach bubbling away like a cannibal’s caldron, trying to digest him from the inside out. To say that Effrom was not a particularly good cook was an understatement akin to saying that genocide is not a particularly effective public relations strategy. He had decided that Tater Tots would provide as good a meal as anything, without challenging his culinary abilities. He read the cooking instructions carefully, then did some simple mathematics to expedite the preparation: twenty minutes at 375 degrees would mean only eleven minutes at 575 degrees. The results of his calculation resembled charcoal briquettes with frozen centers, but because he was in a hurry to get to bed, he drowned the suffering Tots in catsup and ate them anyway. Little did he know that their spirits would return carrying nightmare images of the zeppelin attack. He had never been so frightened, even in the trenches, with bullets flying overhead and mustard gas on the wind. That shadow moving silently across the hills had been the worst. But now, sitting on the edge of the bed, he felt the same paralyzing fear. Though the dream was fading, instead of the relief of finding himself safe, at home, in bed, he felt he had awakened into something worse than the nightmare. Someone was moving in the house. Someone was thrashing around like a two-year-old in a pan-rattling contest. Whoever it was, was coming through the living room. The house had a wooden floor and Effrom knew its every squeak and creak. The creaks were moving up the hall. The intruder opened the bathroom door, two doors from Effrom’s bedroom. Effrom remembered the old pistol in his sock drawer. Was there time? Effrom shook off his fear and hobbled to the dresser. His legs were stiff and wobbly and he nearly fell into the front of the dresser. The floor was creaking outside the guest bedroom. He heard the guest room door open. Hurry! He opened the dresser drawer and dug around under his socks until he found the pistol. It was a British revolver he had brought home from the war – a Webley, chambered for.45 automatic cartridges. He broke the pistol open like a shotgun and looked into the cylinders. Empty. Holding the gun open, he dug under his socks for the bullets. Three cartridges were held in a plate of steel shaped like a half-moon so the pistol’s six cylinders could be loaded in two quick motions. The British had developed the system so they could use the same rimless cartridges in their revolvers that the Americans used in their Colt automatics. Effrom located one of the half-moon clips and dropped it into the pistol. Then he started searching for the sound. The doorknob of his room started to turn. No time. He flipped the gun upward and it slammed shut, only half loaded. The door slowly started to swing open. Effrom aimed the Webley at the center of the door and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, the hammer fell on an empty chamber. He pulled the trigger again and the gun fired. Inside the small bedroom the gun’s report sounded like the end of the world. A large, ragged hole appeared in the door. From the hall came the high-pitched scream of a woman. Effrom dropped the gun. For a moment he stood there, gunfire and the scream echoing in his head. Then he thought of his wife. â€Å"Oh my God! Amanda!† He ran forward. â€Å"Oh my God, Amanda. Oh my†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He threw the door open, leapt back, and grabbed his chest. The monster was down on its hands and knees. His arms and head filled the doorway. He was laughing. â€Å"Fooled you, fooled you,† the monster chanted. Effrom backed into the bed and fell. His mouth moved like wind-up chatter dentures, but he made no sound. â€Å"Nice shot, old fella’,† the monster said. Effrom could see the squashed remains of the.45 bullet just above the monster’s upper lip, stuck like an obscene beauty mark. The monster flipped the bullet off with a single claw. The heavy slug thudded on the carpet. Effrom has having trouble breathing. His chest was growing tighter with each breath. He slid off the bed to the floor. â€Å"Don’t die, old man. I have questions for you. You can’t imagine how pissed I’ll be if you die now.† Effrom’s mind was a white blur. His chest was on fire. He sensed someone talking to him, but he couldn’t understand the words. He tried to speak, but no words would come. Finally he found a breath. â€Å"I’m sorry, Amanda. I’m sorry,† he gasped. The monster crawled into the room and laid a hand on Effrom’s chest. Effrom could feel the hand, hard and scaly, through his pajamas. He gave up. â€Å"No!† the monster shouted. â€Å"You will not die!† Effrom was no longer in the room. He was sitting on a hill in England, watching the shadow of death floating toward him across the fields. This time the zeppelin was coming for him, not the base. He sat on the hill and waited to die. I’m sorry, Amanda. â€Å"No, not tonight.† Who said that? He was alone on the hill. Suddenly he became aware of a searing pain in his chest. The shadow of the airship began to fade, then the whole English countryside dissolved. He could hear himself breathing. He was back in the bedroom. A warm glow filled his chest. He looked up and saw the monster looming over him. The pain in his chest subsided. He grabbed one of the monster’s claws and tried to pry it from his chest, but it remained fast, not biting into the flesh, just laid upon it. The monster spoke to him: â€Å"You were doing so good with the gun and everything. I was thinking, ‘This old fuck really has some gumption.’ Then you go and start drooling and wheezing and ruining a perfectly good first impression. Where’s your self-respect?† Effrom felt the warmth on his chest spreading to his limbs. His mind wanted to switch off, dive under the covers of unconsciousness and hide until daylight, but something kept bringing him back. â€Å"Now, that’s better, isn’t it?† The monster removed his hand and backed to the corner of the bedroom, where he sat cross-legged looking like the Buddha of the lizards. His pointy ears scraped against the ceiling when he turned his head. Effrom looked at the door. The monster was perhaps eight feet away from it. If he could get through it, maybe†¦ How fast could a beast that size move in the confines of the house? â€Å"Your jammies are all wet,† the monster said. â€Å"You should change or you’ll catch your death.† Effrom was amazed at the reality shift his mind had made. He was accepting this! A monster was in his house, talking to him, and he was accepting it. No, it couldn’t be real. â€Å"You’re not real,† he said. â€Å"Neither are you,† the monster retorted. â€Å"Yes I am,† Effrom said, feeling stupid. â€Å"Prove it,† the monster said. Effrom lay on the bed thinking. Much of his fear had been replaced by a macabre sense of wonder. He said: â€Å"I don’t have to prove it. I’m right here.† â€Å"Sure,† the monster said, incredulously. Effrom climbed to his feet. Upon rising he realized that the creak in his knees and the stiffness he had carried in his back for forty years were gone. Despite the strangeness of this situation, he felt great. â€Å"What did you do to me?† â€Å"Me? I’m not real. How could I do anything?† Effrom realized he had backed himself into a metaphysical corner, from which the only escape was acceptance. â€Å"All right,† he said, â€Å"you’re real. What did you do to me?† â€Å"I kept you from croaking.† Effrom made a connection at last. He had seen a movie about this: aliens who come to Earth with the power to heal. Granted, this wasn’t the cute little leather-faced, lightbulb-headed alien from the movie, but it was no monster. It was a perfectly normal person from another planet. â€Å"So,† Effrom said, â€Å"do you want to use the phone or something?† â€Å"Why?† â€Å"To phone home. Don’t you want to phone home?† â€Å"Don’t play with me, old man. I want to know why Travis was here this afternoon.† â€Å"I don’t know anyone named Travis.† â€Å"He was here this afternoon. You spoke with him – I saw it.† â€Å"You mean the insurance man? He wanted to talk to my wife.† The monster moved across the room so quickly that Effrom almost fell back on the bed to avoid him. His hopes of making it through the door dissolved in an instant. The monster loomed over him. Effrom could smell his fetid breath. â€Å"He was here for the magic and I want it now, old man, or I’ll hang your entrails from the curtain rods.† â€Å"He wanted to talk to the wife. I don’t know nothin’ about any magic. Maybe you should have landed in Washington. They run things from there.† The monster picked Effrom up and shook him like a rag doll. â€Å"Where is your wife, old man?† Effrom could almost hear his brain rattling in his head. The monster’s hand squeezed the breath out of him. He tried to answer, but all he could produce was a pathetic croak. â€Å"Where?† The monster threw him on the bed. Effrom felt the air burn back into his lungs. â€Å"She’s in Monterey, visiting our daughter.† â€Å"When will she be back? Don’t lie. I’ll know if you are lying.† â€Å"How will you know?† â€Å"Try me. Your guts should go well with this decor.† â€Å"She’ll be home in the morning.† â€Å"That’s enough,† the monster said. He grabbed Effrom by the shoulder and dragged him through the door. Effrom felt his shoulder pop out of its socket and a grinding pain flashed across his chest and back. His last thought before passing out was, God help me, I’ve killed the wife. How to cite Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 19-20, Essay examples

Defining True Love free essay sample

Through recent production of certain movies, books, and songs, people have started to adopt this certain perception that the culture has put forward and has completely trashed whatever opinion they had about true love because they assume that the world’s knowledge of love must be greater than one’s own beliefs. What many individuals tend to forget is that the movies, books, and songs that they see, hear, and read about are almost always fiction. In turn, the media makes the love they portray to be fiction as well. In other words, people should not be striving towards this certain romance being illustrated by Hollywood actors when it is only a false, unrealistic fantasy of a certain individual’s view on love and what they wish they could experience themselves. Looking towards what culture has to say about love, individuals have slowly but surely, started to abandon their view of true love and what it truly means to love someone else. True love isn’t about the â€Å"fairytale ending,† although some may be fortunate enough to attain such romance. The most true and honest love is about two people coming together and making a choice to respect one another and accept them as they are even with all of the baggage, flaws, and shortcomings they may bring into the relationship. Having a perfectly flawless love story is simply unattainable and must be accepted in order to love someone else to ones fullest capacity. Best expressed by Sam Keen, â€Å"You come to love not by finding the perfect person but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. The most beautiful aspect about true love is the way two imperfect human beings can come together and choose to see past all of the mistakes one has made and the flaws one may have, yet still choose to love and accept that person unconditionally. Loving someone else is an everyday battle that requires work, sacrifice, and patience, but the end result far exceeds any trials one may face throughout a relationship. Troubles and obstacles are sure to arise in any relationship, but true lov e will overcome any circumstance no matter the sacrifice because that is what true love is about. Although culture has somewhat distorted and perverted the meaning throughout time, love, in its truest form, is still a reality that remains to be one of the world’s most significant desires. One of the biggest factors that result in the distortion of true love is due to the influence of media and its effect on people’s view of what true love is supposed to look like. Even from the beginning of childhood, individuals are told about the unrealistic, fairytale stories of Prince Charming coming to save his princess. Growing up with this point of view on love only creates foolish expectations for kids and this newfound perception hugely impacts the decision when choosing a partner later on in life. Through all of the movies, books, and music of today’s society, love is often portrayed as nothing more than a romance between two people. Many will strive throughout their entire life in search of this fairytale love story, but what most people don’t realize is that Hollywood has fabricated and distorted what true love actually looks like in an every day life. The love stories of today are often shallow and consumed with the physical aspect, which was never meant to be a focal point of a relationship in the first place. Physical attraction is important to the beginning of a relationship; it is what sends off the initial spark of the relationship. Physical attraction to another person is what draws two people together, but how attractive someone is on the outside will never be able to compete with how attractive someone is on the inside. Although many agree with this fact, many more get so caught up in their need for affection. Affection is needed by all, but was never meant to hold a relationship together. Hollywood has so convincingly brain washed people into thinking that pre-marital sex is normal and almost necessary in order for true love to last. Blinded by the glamorization of pre-marital sex, individuals are pressured into believing that they must conform to the world’s standards in order to attain attention from their significant other. In â€Å"To My Dear and Loving Husband,† Anne Bradstreet professes her undying love for her husband. Through this poem, she places the highest importance on man and woman becoming one. Bradstreet states, â€Å"If ever two were one, then surely we† (1), expressing her goal of true love to be as one. She understands the value of the true love that her and her husband possess, and she believes that his great love she â€Å"can no way repay† (9). Anne Bradstreet gives the reader a realistic view on true love, in that it is beautiful and rewarding, yet only because of the struggles and obstacles. In the last line of the poem, Bradstreet highlights the gift of true love that lasts. Lasting love seems impossible to the people that Wislawa Szymborska portrays in her satiric poem, â€Å"True Love. Szymborska expresses true love as a difficult, unrealistic fantasy that people tend to get caught up in. Through her witty sarcasm, Szymborska communicates to the reader the difficulty that comes with finding true love and making it last. Szymborska says, â€Å"tact and common sense tell us to pass over† true love â€Å"in silence† (28). This shows tha t she understands the human heart and that the greatest gift of all, love, is sometimes illogical and heavy-handed. Though the journey may be long and treacherous, Wislawa Szymborska believes that the reward is exceedingly greater. In the end, the greatest reward is the gift of true love through marriage. In William Shakespeare’s sonnet, â€Å"Let me not to the marriage of true minds,† he attempts to describe what love is and what love is not through the use of metaphors. Essentially, this sonnet is all about presenting the ultimate principles of romantic love: it never changes, never fades, outlasts death, and admits no flaw. In the first verse, the speaker describes love as being perfect and steadfast; it does not â€Å"admit impediments† and does not alter or change when change is found in a loved one. People are bound to transform and adjust to different circumstances within their lifetime because it is just human nature. It may be transformations that one may not agree with or necessarily prefer, but if that individual truly loves his or her spouse, he or she will not allow their love for that person to change or alter. In the second verse, Shakespeare refers to love as a star that serves as a guide to every wandering ship and is not shaken or distorted by any storm that may come along. There are going to be obstacles to face and arguments to work through every single day, but true love will work through those disagreements together and lift each other up with kind words of encouragement. In turn, this way of getting through things together will strengthen and build an even healthier relationship that others will want to look at and follow. In the third verse, the speaker describes how love is not vulnerable to time. Within time, beauty will fade and aging will begin to take over, but love should not just be rooted in physical attraction. Rather than only seeing the outside appearance, true love searches much deeper within a soul in order to understand the heart of a person and what they’re all about. In the final verse, the speaker claims his previous statements about love cannot be proved by error and if they can be, then he disproves ever writing a word and that no man has ever loved. In full, Shakespeare does an excellent job at describing love and what it is and what it is not with simple metaphors that individuals can easily grasp hold of and understand how to truly love one another. The three most powerful words in the English language, ‘I love you’, can mean one thing to one person and something completely different to another. Define love. Is it possible? 1 John 4:8 tells us, Whoever does not know God does not know love because God is love. The simplest, truest form of love is Jesus Christ dying on the cross for the world. Throughout every time period, in every culture, and in every country, there is a constant search for true love. The reality is, the world just has the wrong definition.