Florence has been silent the rest of the journey from the forest into town. I can hear her breathe with such patience and slenderness. The boy in the back has been whistling, and I had taught him to do that when he feels defiant, or in any way brave. It has been on and off throughout driving through the city. I note the faces of the drunk and promiscuous on the streets. I take in the seven inch heels, and the mini dresses on the sultry females, and I take in the groups of men with alcohol swayed walks.
I remember the first time I drove through this city with a man in the back; I had had to sedate him, and it was a terrible business. The morphine mixed with his Atarax, and his nerves had begun to get the better of him. I had barely managed to heave him through two rooms of my home, my palace, my haven. He dripped blood all over my new wooden floor. He was dead the next morning.
It was a shame, he had such loving eyes.
“Miss Angelina, do you suppose, at some point...” I raise my hand to her, and put my finger to my lips. There were red lights ahead of me, and a group of people surrounding the street, and this van wasn’t keen on keeping conversations inside whilst it was immobile. “Miss Angelina, I was only going to ask if I could, if we could go into town tomorrow night. Shan’t you be done by then?” I had forgotten that Florence isn’t permitted to leave the house without myself, or someone I trust.
I open the dashboard in front of me, and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I offer the open lid to Florence, who politely shakes her head. I end up shrugging her off and taking one out for myself, placing it between my lipstick polished lips and throwing the pack towards her. She takes the initiative to collect the lighter from her pocke...
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...g soft and delicate on these men.
I couldn’t concentrate from this point on, and I don’t believe Florence replied, moreover I don’t believe she gave it a second thought. She was taking my promises of a night of freedom and running away with them towards the winds. She’d never let me forget this. I did wish for Florence to practise on her own man – her own type. Delicate flowers cannot corrupt men, but then cold, heartless mirrors cannot seduce men. I still hadn’t taught her the middle – how to seduce and corrupt. How to burn down a man’s pride and take what you wish.
It wasn’t until I parked up and Florence heaved herself out the door of the van, that I realised how ready I was to end this boy’s life. I hadn’t killed in weeks, and I was feeling the blood lust, the hunger that was caused me to lose all of my self control.
“Angelina, where on earth have you been?”
With an evident attempt at objectivity, the syntax of Passage 1 relies almost entirely on sentences of medium length, uses a few long sentences for balance, and concludes with a strong telegraphic sentence. The varying sentence length helps keep the readers engaged, while also ensuring that the writing remains succinct and informative. Like the varying sentence length, the sentence structures vary as complex sentences are offset by a few scattered simple sentences. The complex sentences provide the necessary description, and the simple sentences keep the writing easy to follow. Conversely, Passage 2 contains mostly long, flowing sentences, broken up by a single eight word sentence in the middle. This short sentence, juxtaposed against the length of the preceding and following sentences, provides a needed break in the text, but also bridges the ideas of the two sentences it falls between. The author employs the long sentences to develop his ideas and descriptions to the fullest extent, filling the sentences with literary elements and images. Coupled...
While walking downtown with her girlfriend, the author describes as, “[her] heart began to skip every other beat, pounding, pounding, pounding … [as she stood] paralyzed like a frightened, little jackrabbit.” Repetition of the word “pounding” in the text develops a fast pace, indicating the urgency and panic felt by the author; terms such as paralyzed are utilized to emphasize the urgent, panicked mood. However, sanguine moods still persist throughout the narrative. For example, in the opening paragraph the author describes how she, “watch[ed] the golden dots of morning light glide across [her] ceiling, [and she] melted into a feeling of peace specific to the freedom of early summer.” Terms such as “golden,” “glide,” “peace,” and “early summer” help the reader detect a placid mood in the text, directing the reader towards the state of contentment the author feels surrounding her relationship. Mood differentiations in the text, from the urgency of the narrator’s walk downtown to the tranquil peace of the narrator’s relationship, indicate the contrasting aspects of the LGBT+ community, both in terms of the impending fear of violence, and the love that is the
It isn’t long before another interruption comes cluttering up to country road toward the Allen Ranch. This time it comes in the form of a worn wagon, drawn by two mismatched horses, and a large rugged man sitting behind the reins. Elisa appears to be somewhat static as she introduces herself to the peddler, making it known that he is drawing her away from her duties. But the peddler, who is just trying to find something to fix-up for money, sparks a vigor in Elisa, and she suddenly gains interest in everything he says, as benign as it may be. This peddler, who merely altered Elisa’s routine, has immediately altered her life. The change in routine is the first in many years for her...
In contrast, syntax provides a new perspective to the narrator s behavior as sentence structure draws attention to her erratic behavior. By her last entry, the narrator s sentences have become short and simple. Paragraphs 227 through 238 contain few adjectives resulting in limited descriptions yet her short sentences emphasize her actions providing plenty of imagery. The syntax quickly pulls the reader through the end as the narrator reaches an end to her madness.
First came the pride, an overwhelming sense of achievement, an accomplishment due to great ambition, but slowly and enduringly surged a world of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, soon defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that merciless night overcame me and I succumbed to the incessant and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a lifeless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, trying desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. But the filthy witness remains, stained, never to be removed.
with words and looks.” (pg.157) In turn the lady “Went to the window because of her lover, who, she knew was leading the same life, awake most of the night. Each took pleasure in the other’s sight since they could have nothing more.” (pg.157) Although the heroine is described as being wise, courtly, and unhappy with her marriage and the knight being regarded as brave and a man of valor; the couple continued in a relationship that is frowned upon. It is out of their wise and noble characters to lie and betray a fellow knight/husband. Love was the root of their deception bought upon the husband. However, love clearly can’t overcome all diffuculties, and those who don’t obtain the love they hope for endure the anguish of love more than those
As you read what Virginia has to say about her observations of the two different environments, they became clear. When she is in the men’s cafeteria,
It is dusk, just before dinner-time. The sky is a canvas of purples, blues and oranges; the sun is a deep red. There are little black silhouettes of houses and castles soaking up the red blood like oversaturated bandages, regurgitating the rest onto the streets are syrupy orange light. The air is crisp, soaked thoroughly in the scent of canal water and burning candles. From the handkerchief in Emilia’s hand just the slightest hints of fragrant spices arise. Around them, the doors of shops creak to a close as the day comes to an end. The torch in Iago’s hand chuckles heartily, sputtering incandescent sparks into the
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
The Duke of Ferrara was a very arrogant man. He did not seem to care about the happiness of his wife, only his own. He did not like the fact that she found happiness in other places beside himself, as if he should be the only life in her life. He could not understand how she could rank his nine thousand year old name with more simpler things such as her white mule that she rode on the terrace, an act of kindness from an "officious fool" and the "drooping of the daylight in the west." His wife, no doubt, had no idea he felt that way but he could not discuss it with her, blaming it on the fact that he had no skill in speech. He let the problem persist until he no longer could stand it and finally "gave commands" that in one way or another caused her death.
The language used in the first two paragraphs outlines the area to which the book is set, this depicts that it is almost perfect and an. an idyllic place to be. The mood is tranquil and takes the reader to a place “where all life seems to live in harmony”. In the first two paragraphs. Carson uses language of melodrama to inspire the reader’s.
Ferguson, Margaret W. , Mary Jo Salter, and Jon Stallworthy. The Norton Anthology Of Poetry. shorter fifth edition. New York, New York: W W Norton & Co Inc, 2005. print.
Disappointment, disbelief and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, sandwiched between the cold, soft dirt and the hot, slick metal of the car. The weight of the car pressed down on the lower half of my body with monster force. It did not hurt, my body was numb. All I could feel was the car hood's mass stamping my body father and farther into the ground. My lungs felt pinched shut and air would neither enter nor escape them. My mind was buzzing. What had just happened? In the distance, on that cursed road, I saw cars driving by completely unaware of what happened, how I felt. I tried to yell but my voice was unheard. All I could do was wait. Wait for someone to help me or wait to die.
It's dark out. The street remains quiet and the sounds of the city have faded. A woman walking down the street crosses, her heels thumping against the sidewalk. As she walks further into the night she feels a presence upon her. Suddenly the worries of the day have escaped her mind. All she can think about was the increasing echo of heavy footsteps behind her. Heart beating, she skips along the street, heels thumping with every step. She reaches a stoplight, and her heels come skidding to a stop. Her chest is aching and she's beginning to accept her fate, when, the man steps into the light with her. At first she looks away, praying that he won’t choose her as his next victim. As the seconds vanish, she decides to turn, to take a peek at the man breathing quietly beside her. Her brown hair whips around her shoulder and she clutches her handbag studying the man. It was difficult to make out his face in the poorly lit corner, but as she examined him she took note of his shiny blue eyes and light complexion. Without delay, her shoulders relax, and she releases the tight grip
This change in mental state accounts for the change in language from the unflattering descriptions early on to the more loving and affectionate feelings expressed later in the poem. This continued consumption of alcohol results in the speaker 's proclamation of love -- a state defined as "rare" because it will most likely be gone in the morning. It is clear in the poem that the speaker 's complex maze of attraction and derision is cyclic, transforming the unattractive innkeeper to the prized jewel of his eye on a weekly or perhaps daily basis. Through the clever use of negative descriptions and false comparisons, the author confides to paper what is effectively a bipolar relationship with the woman he both loathes and