Free White-Jacket Essays and Papers

Herman Melville’s White-Jacket: or The World in a Man-of-War, the themes of isolation, captivity, and imprisonment are heavily featured throughout the novel. Upon the novel’s release the majority of the readership’s attention was focused on the intense scenes of flogging, ultimately leading to the abolition of the act aboard United States Naval vessels. However, Melville’s depiction of flogging was only one aspect of military life that was being critiqued. Throughout the novel White-Jacket Herman Melville

Short Skirt, Long Jacket After stuffing my brains with knowledge of Communication, Controls, and Signal Processing and then force-feeding my eyes with 150 pages of text for my literature class, I leave the library dispirited and walk slowly home. My mind has left my body and is hovering overhead, observing me go through the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other on the sidewalk. What seems to be an effortless action is actually a complex system of muscles, nerves, and electric

how how I got up every day is. My mom is very OCD about waking up on time for injections. I got up and got dressed in some ripped skinny jeans and a loose white tee-shirt, but I didn’t forget about my favorite jacket. I found this jacket in the rubble sites of World War Three. My father said it most likely belonged to a girl my age. So this jacket is very old. But I loved it because it was my own little piece of history. I have worn it since it was five, it used to be too big for me but I finally grew

her hair back and is wearing her red "North Face" jacket. Jade has an adorable smile on her face. Next to Jade is Mary Attaway leaning over the table wearing a flowered backless shirt with a black sweater. To the right of Mary is Laura Jones. Laura is slightly leaning her head toward her right shoulder and is wearing a blue shirt with a drawstring tie in front. Laura has her arm around Erica Farnsworth, who has a yellow shirt and white jacket on. She looks especially happy; she is smiling from

and shook her hand, taking in her clean cut look. A black pencil skirt, a white button up shirt tucked into the skirt and some heels to put it all together. He swallowed trying to clear the lump in his throat. His girlfriend of five years had broken up with him not even a week ago and here he was lusting after some blonde with a kid, hell she was probably married. But then something caught his eyes under her winter duster jacket. A badge? A bright gold badge stuck out at him. He had a hard time picturing

and growing up in the South Bronx, you can say that Canada had somewhat of a rough childhood. Not letting that deter him from a path of success, he attended Bowdoin College to study psychology and sociology, later becoming a director of the Robert White School and eventually an author. He wrote the book “Fist, Stick, Knife, Gun: A Personal History of Violence”, where he gave descriptive stories of his childhood teachings. By relaying the lessons he learned through past experiences, Geoffrey Canada

was like to present a powerful outside image while knowing there was a self conscious and scared person inside. The main image of the portrait is the young man. He is wearing a long black jacket, in the style of the sixteenth century, with part of a white ruffled collar and cuffs peeking out of his jacket. He is also wearing a black and what appears to be a beaded beret. He has a light complexion. His oval shaped face contains an oval shaped dark eyes with light, rounded eyebrows. He has an

She pulled the jacket closer and tighter around herself and moved ahead. With every step she took, Her boots squished deeper into the thick snow, making it difficult for her to walk. Her palms, bare of the gloves, had turned into marble. She buried them deep into the pockets of her jacket, attempting to revive them back. after almost Every 10 steps, she stopped and shook the falling snow off herself which tended to settle on her head and shoulders. What was she doing here? The weather channel had

blue corduroy jacket of the FFA, proudly displaying the FFA emblem on the back, embroidered with blue and gold thread. These members are standing in the center of Freedom Hall; the main auditorium used to hold the National FFA Convention in Louisville, Kentucky. They are anxiously awaiting the first session of the first National Convention to be held in Kentucky. Amidst the sea of blue and gold, one member stands silently in awe of the multitude of people. The sleeves of his blue jacket hang stiffly

old, maybe a bit more, but certainly not old enough to drive yet, or maybe she was. She was with her family, I think...no, I assume. Her father (I assume) was the big guy with a red sash on his waist and a jacket with a yin-yang patch on the front right side of it and it was black. The jacket, I mean. Her mother (I assume) was there too, and...I don't remember anything at all about her. There was another kid there, younger than her, and I assumed it was her brother. She was beautiful. Not in the

last ever self-portrait painted by Vincent van Gogh before he died on the 29th July 1890 as a result of a self-inflicted bullet wound. The first thing I notice when I look at the painting is the amount of blue used to create the background, the jacket and also the darker, shaded areas on van Gogh’s face. I think van Gogh did this for a few reasons, * One reason could be to show the way that he felt while he was painting, which could of been sad or “blue”. This is a possibility as van Gogh

into the kitchen asking what happened. I wanted to go to him and ask him what was wrong, but I didn’t dare…But then I couldn’t stand it anymore and I got up and ran down the hall to the kitchen. There, in the middle of the room, wearing his Goodyear jacket and work clothes was my father. He was on his hands and knees, his head hanging as though it were too heavy to support, and he was rocking back and forth and babbling in a rhythmical stutter. It’s funny, but the first thing I thought when I saw him

Original Writing The winter was reigning in full swing, freezing mercilessly everything in its way. It was the dead of night. The air was very still – the wind had veered to north and stopped suddenly, bringing clear skies with

I am going to write about a character from the book The Outsiders his name is Dallas Winston also known as “Dally”. I am going to be writing this essay is a first person perspective through journal entries then it was that day…. I was sitting there waiting for Ponyboy and Johnny. So finally they showed up and we went to the drugstore in the shopping center. After a while the movie was starting so we left The Dingo. We snuck through the back fence cuz I hated paying for stupid stuff like this. We

My blood ran cold as the sound grew louder. The fearsome thump grew more frequent, echoing through the hallway. It can’t be mum. It’s too early she only just left. The harrowing knocks kept coming as I sat on my couch glaring at the sight of my possible demise. It was the usual Friday night routine. My mum working at her job leaving the whole house to me. I was just relaxing in the living room, watching the news. “Reports have come in of several murders that have taken place across London. All victims

your parents for chores in order to make money to pay off your bills. •     You had to pawn your CD player to pay for all those cool CDs you bought last month. •     Your parents give you funny looks when you leave for school wearing a $500 leather jacket, but ask them for lunch money. Warning Signals You SHOULD have this guide, if you have ever experienced one of these: •     You’ve really really wanted to go out one night, but simply couldn’t find the money. •     The above, but you couldn’t

in his skull was almost unbearable. Worse of all, he was thirsty. For something strong, stronger than whiskey. Sam stood up unsteadily and stumbled to the door, trying to stay quiet. He grabbed his jacket and stepped outside. The cold night air bit into his nose and cheeks, and he tugged the jacket tighter. There was a vending machine up the sidewalk a ways. Good. He walked to it, face looking extra pale in the glow and soft hum of the machine. With shaking hands he put a dollar in the slot and

is clearly the right way to go. Advice that works doesn’t have to be deep or inspirational. Take for example when a mother gives her children the advice to but a jacket on because it is cold outside. It is nothing new, it is just because she is concerned about her children and knows from experience that when it is cold you need a jacket. Also, in my example, the friend that gave me good advice wasn’t being pushy or saying you have to do this or else. She left it up to me. This means for good advice

TODAY THE CHINESE ECONOMIC MODEL OF DEVELOPMENT CONNOTED THROUGH THE MAO SUIT DOES NOT EXIST. Margaret Thatcher disrobed them. The concept of the GOLDEN STRAIGHT JACKET is avowed, to whether it were the Democrats or the Republicans, the Conservatives or the Laborites, the BJP or the Congress. The concept of the golden straight jacket has been embraced by all countries including India. It endeavors to shift the economic decision making from the government to the markets. The concept of Disinvestment

0 Lean ham 135.1 12.4 9.5 0 Tomato 3.6 0.2 0 0.7 Lettuce 1.2 0.1 0 0.2 Apple 73.6 0.5 0 17.9 Dinner ====== Roast chicken ============= 170.4 31.8 4.8 0 Jacket potato ============= 267.6 5.2 5.2 50 Runner beans ============ 14.8 1.4 0 2.3 Reasons why my diet differs from a professional footballer: There are many reasons why my diet is so different to that of a professional