<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556</id><updated>2012-01-17T01:08:26.534-05:00</updated><category term='The Stranger'/><category term='quote'/><category term='B Bell'/><category term='Yousra Aboulatta'/><category term='Poisonwood'/><category term='Contrasts'/><category term='A Doll&apos;s House'/><category term='Diana Heriford'/><title type='text'>Blogging for Books!!</title><subtitle type='html'>Reading Critically, Commenting, and Sharing</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2762968096903484001</id><published>2010-05-11T22:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T22:20:38.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>LAST B BELL BLOG!!!! Martin &amp;Keely</title><content type='html'>Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is going to be a fun, creative blog! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncyclopedia, and other similar Wikipedia spoofs, take legitimate articles and write comedic spoofs of them. For example, the &lt;a href="http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/James_Joyce"&gt;article about James Joyce&lt;/a&gt; is written in the style of James Joyce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;assignment?&lt;br /&gt;Click on said article.&lt;br /&gt;Read said article.&lt;br /&gt;Write your own comedic James Joyce-esque paragraph describing either a major character or event in the novel!&lt;br /&gt;Make things interesting.&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2762968096903484001?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2762968096903484001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2762968096903484001' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2762968096903484001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2762968096903484001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/05/last-b-bell-blog-martin.html' title='LAST B BELL BLOG!!!! Martin &amp;Keely'/><author><name>Keely</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13268903418570755905</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5Ye6d9M71h8/S2DryM49kCI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/vxW-hrFKdsk/S220/Snarling_Wolf_Montana-(1024x768).jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1646526407910884433</id><published>2010-04-30T11:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T12:04:53.070-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell Final Blog!!</title><content type='html'>Throughout the novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen Dedalus's belief and reliance on the Catholic religion slowly deteriorates as he decides to live freely as an artist. At the conclusion of the novel, Stephen's friend Cranly is questioning Stephen's belief in religion. Stephen says, "I neither believe in it or disbelieve in it" (260). When Cranly justifies the normalcies of these doubts Stephen replies, "I do not wish to overcome them" (260).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the decline of Stephen's belief is gradual throughout the novel, find any quote supporting his eventual wish to be completely free from the societal restraints of religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be due on Friday, May 7th&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1646526407910884433?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1646526407910884433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1646526407910884433' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1646526407910884433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1646526407910884433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/f-bell-final-blog.html' title='F Bell Final Blog!!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14380515411390165785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Stu03AQbnoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aZIXUtIZcZ0/S220/436622489_1518155075_0.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-109883156563900508</id><published>2010-04-25T21:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T21:52:31.331-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell- A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man</title><content type='html'>In Kevin J.H. Dettmar's work entitled The Illicit Joyce of Postmodernism, Dettmar argues that much of Joyce's works are filled with an epiphany, or a moment of illumination of one's mastery over the situation. However, Joyce, being the modernist/postmodernist writer that he was, used epiphanies "to impose closure where in fact none inheres; it is, in other words, a way to fight off the intense disquiet caused by Joyce's 'scrupulous meanness.'" Therefore, Dettmar suggests that Joyce instead used what's known as an epiclesis, or a gradual submission to mystery that allows for a soft, gradual and hard won appreciation for the characters' situations and the falsehood of the epiphany. In other words, Joyce used epiphanies when in fact there wasn't one.&lt;br /&gt; In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen is constantly challenged with his faith and the Catholic Church. However, according to Dettmar's theory on the use of epiclesis in place of epiphanies, many of the characters, not just Stephen, are subjected to these false epiphanies, and we in turn are subjected to a constant epiclesis. Please discuss a character or characters who exhibit this false sense of epiphany, whether it be through the Catholic Church or through politics. Quotes are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moderated by Gary and Elizabeth. Due Friday April 30.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-109883156563900508?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/109883156563900508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=109883156563900508' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/109883156563900508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/109883156563900508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/b-bell-portrait-of-artist-as-young-man.html' title='B Bell- A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man'/><author><name>Gary Kafer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08833612521633304708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1840202568365895035</id><published>2010-04-25T13:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T13:43:31.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Portrait of the Artist as A Young Man- F Bell</title><content type='html'>Modernism is a literary movement that focuses on individualism, skepticism of institutions such as the government and religion, and the mistrust of absolute truths. As sociologist Georg Simmel once said, "The deepest problems of modern life derive from the claim of the individual to preserve the autonomy and individuality of his existence in the face of overwhelming social forces, of historical heritage, of external culture, and of the technique of life." Provide an example in which Stephan went against society, the government, or religion and embraced individualism. Quotes are encouraged!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1840202568365895035?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1840202568365895035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1840202568365895035' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1840202568365895035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1840202568365895035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/portrait-of-artist-as-young-man-f-bell.html' title='Portrait of the Artist as A Young Man- F Bell'/><author><name>Kristen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10136295671085971371</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2972528268906567345</id><published>2010-04-21T15:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T15:39:57.044-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mythology- F Bell</title><content type='html'>Edith Hamilton's Mythology, is basically a huge guide of myths, offering a detailed overview of the myths of ancient Greece and Rome and a brief overview of Norse mythology.  For this blog, have some fun and briefly summarize a myth that you have created on your own that involves any Greek/Roman character from Hamilton's Mythology and/or relates to any of the myths that are included in the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is moderated my Channing, Alice, and Alyssa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2972528268906567345?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2972528268906567345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2972528268906567345' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2972528268906567345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2972528268906567345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/mythology-f-bell.html' title='Mythology- F Bell'/><author><name>Channing M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11378919633796766705</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-690391117622217955</id><published>2010-04-16T21:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T21:29:14.099-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell Mythology Blog: Due April 23rd</title><content type='html'>Just like Hamlet, the Greek gods had relationships that were full of tension, deceit, and strife. There was revenge, lust, and humor in both worlds. Find one relationship between  a Greek god/ess that you find fascinating, and compare it  to another in Hamlet. Due April 23rd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blog moderated by Yousra, Diana, and Grace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-690391117622217955?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/690391117622217955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=690391117622217955' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/690391117622217955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/690391117622217955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/b-bell-mythology-blog-due-april-23rd.html' title='B Bell Mythology Blog: Due April 23rd'/><author><name>Yousra Aboulatta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02152939704165176913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8212780953255758049</id><published>2010-04-09T12:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T12:58:34.717-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamlet Act IV &amp; Act V - B Bell</title><content type='html'>Hamlet is rich in irony of all types. We see various examples of irony interspersed throughout each act of the play. For example, we see dramatic irony in the third act in the scene where Hamlet confronts Queen Gertrude. When Hamlet notices someone listening in on his conversation behind the curtains, the audience is aware that it is not King Claudius hiding, but rather Polonius. Hamlet impulsively murders Polonius, simply creating more conflict for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acts IV and V contain especially ironic twists of fate as the story closes in on its conclusion. Find at least one example of irony in these final two acts, identify the type of irony, and explain the ironic device's function in the plot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8212780953255758049?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8212780953255758049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8212780953255758049' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8212780953255758049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8212780953255758049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/hamlet-act-iv-act-v-b-bell.html' title='Hamlet Act IV &amp; Act V - B Bell'/><author><name>Ray</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03712194841954966412</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Su9pxbRAUSI/AAAAAAAAAAY/GdVgNQxDPJs/s1600-R/getmoney.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-70869475401257890</id><published>2010-04-08T20:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T20:42:53.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell Hamlet ACT IV</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://web1.playbill.com/images/photo/h/a/hamletlaw460a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 460px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 290px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://web1.playbill.com/images/photo/h/a/hamletlaw460a.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of what happens in Act IV is a direct consequence of Polonius's murder by Hamlet and his subsequent outrage with his mother, which further solidified her theory that her son was mad. At the end of Act III, Hamlet confesses to Gertrude, after he sees his father's ghost during a rampage with her for her marrying Claudius after he stabbed Polonius, that he has been feigning madness the whole time. He also tells her not to give this news to Claudius. Not easily convinced after hearing her son hold a conversation with an apparition that she cannot see, the first scene in Act IV involves Gertrude running back to her husband to relay the news that Hamlet is completely insane, more so than to begin with. While it is agreeable to see how she would be led to believe this, this action can be seen as strike number two perhaps against her son, number one being her marrying Claudius. While she does not tell Claudius that Hamlet is pretending to be mad, she does slyly hand his throat over to the King, and thus begins the chain of betrayal that unfolds in Act IV. But thats not all that keeps us entertaiined in Act IV. If any of our suspicions about Hamlet actually being insane were raised n Act III, they reach a peak in Act IV. However, everything is falling apart. He is being exiled to Englad(only to return at the end of Act IV), Laertes will kill him, Ophelia drowns herself, Gertrude has sided with her new spouse, and the state of Denmark is beginning to mirror the health of its King.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is Hamlet actually crazy, or is he the product of this destructive enviroment? How does he respond to this betrayal? Pick a quote an examine it in context that you will use to defend your statements.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-70869475401257890?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/70869475401257890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=70869475401257890' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/70869475401257890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/70869475401257890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/f-bell-hamlet-act-iv.html' title='F Bell Hamlet ACT IV'/><author><name>Kawleen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-zoMzXhv09E/TFeSD4QbwxI/AAAAAAAAACs/E1tT1MmP7cw/S220/sittin.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8230875801181461344</id><published>2010-04-08T12:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T12:39:26.290-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell Hamlet Act III</title><content type='html'>In Act III Scene I, Hamlet is confronted by Ophelia who wants to return the things he gave her. Describe Hamlet's reaction to Ophelia's sudden need to return his gifts and forsake his love for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8230875801181461344?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8230875801181461344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8230875801181461344' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8230875801181461344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8230875801181461344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/f-bell-hamlet-act-iii.html' title='F Bell Hamlet Act III'/><author><name>Tripp</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02856737047891538940</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2257210409908979296</id><published>2010-04-01T19:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T19:39:52.968-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell - Hamlet Acts I and II</title><content type='html'>In Act II, Hamlet is considered mad by most of his peers. Whether by Hamlet's purposeful scheming or an actual madness caused by realizing his father was murdered, he decides to act the part. Compare some of the justifications that Hamlet's family and peers use to the conclusions that they draw and the actions they plan to take. Do you think they were too quick to judge or their evidence didn't match up to their conclusions? Basically, was any argument they gave to Hamlet's madness a sound one? Were they justified in their assumptions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think they were quick to act, examine any evidence you find later in the novel, and how it could have provided a better argument. If you don't, could there have been a better conclusion or course of action, taking into account the characterization of everyone involved. Consider how the course of the novel would be affected by a better course of action or a difference in plot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's a sneak peek at the Spectrum's cover (which is my way of saying sorry this blog is late):&lt;br /&gt;http://i39.tinypic.com/n483dw.png&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2257210409908979296?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2257210409908979296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2257210409908979296' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2257210409908979296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2257210409908979296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/04/b-bell-hamlet-acts-i-and-ii.html' title='B Bell - Hamlet Acts I and II'/><author><name>Hunter D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11206319475350271625</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2212563774297278872</id><published>2010-03-26T10:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T10:23:42.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell- Hamlet blog- due by April 2</title><content type='html'>Throughout Acts I and II, Shakespeare employs a great deal of rhetorical devices, especially figurative language, allusions, and prosody.&lt;br /&gt;"A little month, or ere those shoes were old&lt;br /&gt;With which she followed my poor father's body,&lt;br /&gt;Like Niobe, all tears:- why she, even she-&lt;br /&gt;O God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,&lt;br /&gt;Would have mourn'd longer- married with my uncle..." (lines 147-151, page 1598)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By using a mythological allusion to Niobe, Shakespeare is able to more easily explain the situation surrounding the death of Hamlet's father and his mother's remarriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find an example of such devices and explore how it helps to further develop the character or situation. How is it used? What is its purpose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is being moderated by Kelsey and Anne Stuart&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2212563774297278872?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2212563774297278872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2212563774297278872' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2212563774297278872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2212563774297278872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/03/f-bell-hamlet-blog-due-by-april-2.html' title='F Bell- Hamlet blog- due by April 2'/><author><name>Anne Stuart Riddick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05233224410134226141</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5362558942342204759</id><published>2010-03-19T21:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T21:58:42.257-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shakespeare - F Bell</title><content type='html'>Though Shakespeare is one of the most renowned playwrights in the English language, very little is actually known about his life. Historians know that he was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1564, married Anne Hathaway at age 18, had three children, and wrote some of the most famous plays in the world. However, even this has been called into question, as many scholars now claim that people like Francis Bacon or Christopher Marlowe actually wrote his plays for him. Because of this lack of information about Shakespeare's life, our best way of learning about Shakespeare is to read his plays. Shakespeare left behind thousands of words, and though they do not describe him directly, they offer us the chance to understand Shakespeare and infer details about his life and personality through what he wrote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a way to further explore Shakespeare's personality and have some fun as well, this week's blog post is going to incorporate some creative writing. Think about what Shakespeare would be like if he lived today. Would he still be a famous playwright? Would he even be a playwright, or would he have a different job, such as a screenwriter? Would he still live in London, or would he have moved somewhere else, like New York or Paris? Briefly tell us about your vision of a modern Shakespeare. Be creative and have fun with this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is being moderated by Andrea and Meera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5362558942342204759?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5362558942342204759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5362558942342204759' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5362558942342204759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5362558942342204759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/03/shakespeare-f-bell.html' title='Shakespeare - F Bell'/><author><name>Andrea Beale</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10505772049727009034</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-3958839806182036419</id><published>2010-03-19T08:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T08:29:46.116-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell - Shakespeare- David &amp; Emily</title><content type='html'>A tragedy is defined as a dramatic composition dealing with a serious or somber theme, typically that of a great person destined through a flaw of character or conflict with some overpowering force, as fate or society, to downfall or destruction. Using this definition,  analyze Shakespeare's plays, more specifically &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hamlet&lt;/span&gt;, and in what aspects they are a tragedy. Use specific examples.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-3958839806182036419?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/3958839806182036419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=3958839806182036419' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/3958839806182036419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/3958839806182036419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/03/b-bell-shakespeare-david-emily.html' title='B Bell - Shakespeare- David &amp; Emily'/><author><name>Emily S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01631746099012806632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7506430052927540306</id><published>2010-02-21T12:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T13:18:48.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maya Angelou Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfDAtUBX88c/S4F49ftjPeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/X-kSlwUe69g/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfDAtUBX88c/S4F49ftjPeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/X-kSlwUe69g/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440762822720175586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maya Angelou is an African American poet and novelist who was born in St. Louis, Missouri on April 4, 1928.  She has received many awards, including nominations for the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award.  Much of her work is autobiographical, such as her novel, &lt;em&gt;I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.  &lt;/em&gt;This novel depicts the challenges which she faces during her childhood.  She was raped by her mother's boyfriend at a young age, and she became mute for five years after her uncles murdered him.  Common themes in Angelou's work include family, identity, and racism, often supporting the African American race and women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read this poem by Maya Angelou and identify the message that she is trying to depict.  Find an example of how Angelou uses poetic devices in order to strengthen this message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alone"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lying, thinking&lt;br /&gt;Last night&lt;br /&gt;How to find my soul a home&lt;br /&gt;Where water is not thirsty&lt;br /&gt;And bread loaf is not stone&lt;br /&gt;I came up with one thing&lt;br /&gt;And I don't believe I'm wrong&lt;br /&gt;That nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some millionaires&lt;br /&gt;With money they can't use&lt;br /&gt;Their wives run round like banshees&lt;br /&gt;Their children sing the blues&lt;br /&gt;They've got expensive doctors&lt;br /&gt;To cure their hearts of stone.&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;No, nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you listen closely&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what I know&lt;br /&gt;Storm clouds are gathering&lt;br /&gt;The wind is gonna blow&lt;br /&gt;The race of man is suffering&lt;br /&gt;And I can hear the moan,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alyssa and Alice will oversee this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7506430052927540306?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7506430052927540306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7506430052927540306' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7506430052927540306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7506430052927540306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/02/maya-angelou-blog.html' title='Maya Angelou Blog'/><author><name>Alice</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfDAtUBX88c/S4F49ftjPeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/X-kSlwUe69g/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4280438691537463109</id><published>2010-02-05T18:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T18:43:49.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Owen Meany Blog, F Bell: due 2/12</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"The Voice Crying Out In The Wilderness"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;&lt;br /&gt;As tumbled over rim and roundy wells&lt;br /&gt;Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's&lt;br /&gt;Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;&lt;br /&gt;Each mortal thing does one thing and the same;&lt;br /&gt;Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;&lt;br /&gt;Selves- goes itself, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt; it speaks and spells,&lt;br /&gt;Crying &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What I do is me: for that I came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I say more : the just man justices;&lt;br /&gt;Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;&lt;br /&gt;Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is--&lt;br /&gt;Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,&lt;br /&gt;Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his&lt;br /&gt;To the Father through the features of men's faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Gerard Manley Hopkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poem deals with the Calvinistic concept of predestination and the idea that all of of Owen's somewhat strange attributes have been presented to him for a specific purpose. In your response, analyze the literary devices used in the poem (allegory, theme, tone, etc.) and connect them with your own ideas about Owen acting as God's instrument, keeping in mind the different perceptions that the townspeople have about him as a result. Quotes are always delightful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*This blog is being managed by Meera and Andrea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4280438691537463109?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4280438691537463109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4280438691537463109' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4280438691537463109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4280438691537463109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/02/owen-meany-blog-f-bell-due-212.html' title='Owen Meany Blog, F Bell: due 2/12'/><author><name>Meera Venkataraman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03584514066937037833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2304376574401263891</id><published>2010-01-29T09:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T09:30:36.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell Owen Meany- Grace and Emily Posted 1/29 due 2/5</title><content type='html'>A Prayer for Owen Meany is a classic example of a post modernism novel. Several characteristics of post modernism literature includes one's search for identity and truth, and the lack of a timeline which follows chronological order. Please give specific examples of how Owen Meany displays these aspects typical to post modernism.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2304376574401263891?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2304376574401263891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2304376574401263891' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2304376574401263891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2304376574401263891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/b-bell-owen-meany-grace-and-emily.html' title='B Bell Owen Meany- Grace and Emily Posted 1/29 due 2/5'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05276888227278934953</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8656417967296809776</id><published>2010-01-28T15:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T15:23:08.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Postmodernism by John and Tripp</title><content type='html'>The following poem was written by the postmodern poet John Wieners. Explore the conflicting parallelism presented by Wieners. What poetic devices (if any) are used? What makes the broken prose of Wieners' poem effective? Also explore the effectiveness of the poet's direct address to an unknown party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You Talk of Going But Don't Even Have a Suitcase"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(A series of Repetitions)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be an old man sometime&lt;br /&gt;And will live in a dark room somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will think of this night someplace&lt;br /&gt;the rain falling on stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be no one near&lt;br /&gt;no whisper on the street&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;only this song of old yearning&lt;br /&gt;and the longing to be young&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with you together on some street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now is the time for retreat,&lt;br /&gt;This is the last chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the last chance.&lt;br /&gt;Why only yesterday I lay drugged &lt;br /&gt;on the dark bed while they came&lt;br /&gt;and went as the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and they shall come again&lt;br /&gt;to bear me down into that pit&lt;br /&gt;there is no returning from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old age, disaster, doom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It shall be as this room.&lt;br /&gt;With you by the sink, pinching your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Time is as a river&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I shall forget this night,&lt;br /&gt;its joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8656417967296809776?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8656417967296809776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8656417967296809776' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8656417967296809776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8656417967296809776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/postmodernism-by-john-and-tripp.html' title='Postmodernism by John and Tripp'/><author><name>Tripp</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02856737047891538940</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6284188037058811612</id><published>2010-01-22T14:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T14:27:57.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell- Owen Meany Blog, Posted on Jan. 22nd, due on Jan 29th</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"God has taken your mother. My hands were the instrument. God has taken my hands. I am God's instrument."&lt;/span&gt; (87)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Owen claims that he is an extension of God Himself. This is an unusually profound and insightful thing for a child to say. It must be a heavy burden for Owen to bear as well, if he truly believes that God has sent him for a mission. Give examples of what affect Owen's belief has had on his childhood. Does he still retain youthful qualities, or is he more prone to adult-like tendencies? Use specific examples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moderated by Yousra and Diana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6284188037058811612?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6284188037058811612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6284188037058811612' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6284188037058811612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6284188037058811612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/b-bell-owen-meany-blog-posted-on-jan.html' title='B Bell- Owen Meany Blog, Posted on Jan. 22nd, due on Jan 29th'/><author><name>Yousra Aboulatta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02152939704165176913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2433931357838103401</id><published>2010-01-21T18:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T19:46:26.589-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F bell modern poetry blog</title><content type='html'>P OR NOT P by Eugene Ostashevsky&lt;br /&gt;1.Excuse me, is this P or ¬P, the sky or not the sky, the building or    not the building?Does the building imply the sky, does the sky imply the building,what does the not-building imply?&lt;br /&gt;There are waves to one side of the building    and a boat.We stepped down into the boat    and sailed away.&lt;br /&gt;We sailed past an island where Dave Cameron stood    reading his poetry.We sailed past an island where Brandon Downing stood    reading his poetry.We sailed past an island where Macgregor Card stood    reading his poetry.&lt;br /&gt;So much poetry for one day!&lt;a id="more"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.SOME QUESTIONS:Are there books in the building?  Is there a book on fire    in the building?Is there a book on fire in a book on fire in the building?Is this the beginning of number?&lt;br /&gt;SOME ANSWERS:The beginning of number is song.   The song is not about anything.  It gave birth to the world.The world is not about anything.&lt;br /&gt;SOME COMMENTS:Animals gather around the song.  They listen, tilting    their heads.They have large eyes.  We can count the animals.&lt;br /&gt;3."What do we do when the song ends for somebody    what do we doDo we say, Don't go    what will I do if you doDo we run to the doctor and cry,    Give me an MRI, doctor!  What he hasI might have it too    Do we lie around despondent and blueO why do you go, why do you go    There's so little time left&lt;br /&gt;"Let us sit down, me and you    Let me help you sit downbecause I am now a man and for you    it's hard even to sit downWhat do we do now, what do we do    Let us speak, me and youWe never learned to speak, me and you    Let us start, ma-ma da-daYou say The Metamorphosis    is about dyingLet us sit on this rock, me and you    I say, ma-ma da-daWe live in Brooklyn    We have a dog"&lt;br /&gt;This is the song as heard / unheard by the animals.  By some of    the animals.  By none of the animals.  There are no animals.&lt;br /&gt;There are only points, each at the convergence of an infinity     of structures.  The structures appear to be of metal.  They     oscillate. They make noise.&lt;br /&gt;4.What is mathematics to animals?  Is P or ¬P truefor all animals?  Does 1+1=2for all animals?  Is there a me and youfor all animals?  What is&lt;br /&gt;mathematics to animals?  What are animalsto mathematics?  Take away mathematicsand there are no animals.  Take away animalsand there is no mathematics.&lt;br /&gt;The animals gather for a concert of mathematics.  We sail    past them.They are capable of love.  We sail past them.&lt;br /&gt;5.We sail and we repeat.  What do we repeat?  Words.What are these words?  There is a word for skyand there is a word for building.&lt;br /&gt;What do they mean?  They mean skyand building.  The sky is blue.The building is pink and white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eugen Ostashevsky teaches English at New York University. He moved to the United States from Russia to the United States with his family when he was a child. He holds a Phd in Comparative Literature from Standford University. During his time there, he delved into the complex world of early twentieth century Russian poetry. In addition to translating works, which he still continues to do today, he particularly focused on Russian absurdist poets of the 1920s and 1930s.&lt;br /&gt;There are certain reappearing traits in Ostashevsky's poetry, much like there are for most poets. Some of the more complex ones deal with verbal relationships to mathematical proofs and allusions to philosophers and mythical creatures. Ostashevsky is also immensely humorous and a very satirical, witty writer. This poem is from his book&lt;em&gt; The Last DJ Spinoza&lt;/em&gt;. The real Baruch Spinoza, if we all tap into our AP MEH knowledge, was a Dutch philosopher from that special period in time called the Enlightenment. Remember his book &lt;em&gt;Ethics&lt;/em&gt;? In it, he asks and reasons through such simple questions as what are emotions? (He actually single handedly defined all his emotions in this book). Spinoza is a very complex person and his philosophy, however fascinating, is very hard to explain.&lt;br /&gt;The reason you should know these things about Spinoza is that the speaker of this poem is Ostashevsky's voive alter-ego, DJ Spinoza. In this book, DJ Spinoza is a sort of Monty Python inspired epic hero, who is based on a lot of the reasonings of the real Baruch Spinoza. He mingles with other fictional/mythical/popular characters, including Flipper the dolphin, a Griffon(begriffon), and a creature inspired by his toddler nephew called the Peepeesauraus. Of course, it wouldn't be an Ostashevsky work if DJ Spinoza didn't run into other poets and philosophers in some of his adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a fascinating poem. Don't read too into the faulty reasoning however; remember what was said earlier about Ostashevsky's wittiness.&lt;br /&gt;Find a phrase, line, or stanza in the poem where Ostashevsky uses repitition, sarcasm,extended syntax, logic,false reasoning, or sectioning (or a combination of all of them) to create poetry and not philosophy, even though some could consider it philosophy in poetry. How are these effective ways in which to assert the overall constricting, trapped yet imaginative mood of the poem? Would it make a difference if he had used a rhyme scheme or an acrostic instead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage you, if you want to, to click on this link for entertainment. Eugene Ostashevsky  reads this poem in a set of poems he delivered at the UC Berkley lunch poems series. P or not P is read precisely at the time 30:53.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIcO6JnZUkU"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIcO6JnZUkU&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2433931357838103401?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2433931357838103401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2433931357838103401' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2433931357838103401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2433931357838103401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/f-bell-modern-poetry-blog.html' title='F bell modern poetry blog'/><author><name>Kawleen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-zoMzXhv09E/TFeSD4QbwxI/AAAAAAAAACs/E1tT1MmP7cw/S220/sittin.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-700785241721629854</id><published>2010-01-18T13:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T13:52:43.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Modern Poetry- B Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sailing to Byzantium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;By William Butler Yeats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;That is no country for old men. The young&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;In one another's arms, birds in the trees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;---Those dying generations---at their song,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Fish, flesh, or fowl commend all summer long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Caught in that sensual music all neglect&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Monuments of unaging intellect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;II&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;An aged man is but a paltry thing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;A tattered coat upon a stick, unless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;For every tatter in its mortal dress,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nor is there singing school but studying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Monuments of its own magnificence;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;And therefore I have sailed the seas and come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;To the holy city of Byzantium.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;III&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;O sages standing in God's holy fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;As in the gold mosaic of a wall,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;And be the singing-masters of my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Consume my heart away; sick with desire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;And fastened to a dying animal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;It knows not what it is; and gather me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Into the artifice of eternity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;IV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Once out of nature I shall never take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;My bodily form from any natural thing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Of hammered gold and gold enamelling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Or set upon a golden bough to sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;To lords and ladies of Byzantium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Of what is past, or passing, or to come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;This poem, first published by Yeats in 1928 in his collection &lt;em&gt;The Tower&lt;/em&gt;, details the tension between life and art and that between the material and the spiritual. Yeats wrote that he chose to symbolize "the search for the spiritual life" as a journey to the ancient city of Byzantium because it "was the centre of European civilization and the source of its spiritual philosophy." What is Yeats trying to say about his own mortality through his journey to Byzantium? How does he accomplish this? What are some poetic devices that Yeats utilizes to convey his message?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Responses are due January 22.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-700785241721629854?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/700785241721629854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=700785241721629854' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/700785241721629854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/700785241721629854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/modern-poetry-b-bell.html' title='Modern Poetry- B Bell'/><author><name>Gary Kafer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08833612521633304708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7777802918499503778</id><published>2010-01-10T13:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T13:40:25.344-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell Poetry Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;h1&gt;I Am&lt;/h1&gt; &lt;p&gt;I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,&lt;br /&gt;My friends forsake me like a memory lost;&lt;br /&gt;I am the self-consumer of my woes,&lt;br /&gt;They rise and vanish in oblivious host,&lt;br /&gt;Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;&lt;br /&gt;And yet I am! and live with shadows tost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,&lt;br /&gt;Into the living sea of waking dreams,&lt;br /&gt;Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,&lt;br /&gt;But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;&lt;br /&gt;And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--&lt;br /&gt;Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I long for scenes where man has never trod;&lt;br /&gt;A place where woman never smil'd or wept;&lt;br /&gt;There to abide with my creator, God,&lt;br /&gt;And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:&lt;br /&gt;Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;&lt;br /&gt;The grass below--above the vaulted sky.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;This poem by John Clare is a very raw and vulnerable bit of insight into the speaker's feelings and emotions.  This poem was not received well by Clare's readers when it was first published.  "I am" was written after John Clare was put into an asylum for insanity.  His readers believed that the poem was much too concentrated on Clare's descent into "madness."  What is madness, and how can madness or insanity often prove helpful in the creative process?  Even though Clare was crazy, can one still make sense of his poetry?  What poetic devices that we have studied does Clare use to construct his poem?  Use quotations to support your answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7777802918499503778?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7777802918499503778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7777802918499503778' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7777802918499503778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7777802918499503778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/b-bell-poetry-blog.html' title='B Bell Poetry Blog'/><author><name>Elizabeth Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00735128619683547941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7199088874279361099</id><published>2010-01-08T22:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T18:54:16.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Renaissance Elizabethan Poetry F Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  border-collapse: collapse; font-family:Times, sans-serif;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Arial, Verdana, Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;William Shakespeare incorporated several poetic devices into Sonnet 130 such as metaphor, personification, repetition, and alliteration. Find a specific quote from the poem that exemplifies one of these techniques and analyze how it effectively conveys Shakespeare's message. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;&lt;br /&gt;Coral is far more red than her lips' red;&lt;br /&gt;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;&lt;br /&gt;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.&lt;br /&gt;I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,&lt;br /&gt;But no such roses see I in her cheeks;&lt;br /&gt;And in some perfumes is there more delight&lt;br /&gt;Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.&lt;br /&gt;I love to hear her speak, yet well I know&lt;br /&gt;That music hath a far more pleasing sound;&lt;br /&gt;I grant I never saw a goddess go;&lt;br /&gt;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:&lt;br /&gt;And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare&lt;br /&gt;As any she belied with false compare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This blog is moderated by Kristen, Elizabeth, and Channing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7199088874279361099?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7199088874279361099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7199088874279361099' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7199088874279361099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7199088874279361099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2010/01/renaissance-elizabethan-poetry-f-bell.html' title='Renaissance Elizabethan Poetry F Bell'/><author><name>Kristen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10136295671085971371</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5988415128373155923</id><published>2009-12-14T11:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T11:52:39.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell- Ethan Frome Part II</title><content type='html'>Ethan Frome's tragic love story is a fairy tale gone wrong. Use specific quotes and examples to show how Ethan and Mattie's relationship does not end up as a happily ever after scenario.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/SyZs27oVGDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YSTErYVdi_c/s1600-h/ethanfromepic"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/SyZs27oVGDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YSTErYVdi_c/s320/ethanfromepic" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415135292935182386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is being managed by Abby and Ashley.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5988415128373155923?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5988415128373155923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5988415128373155923' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5988415128373155923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5988415128373155923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/12/f-bell-ethan-frome-part-ii.html' title='F Bell- Ethan Frome Part II'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14380515411390165785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Stu03AQbnoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aZIXUtIZcZ0/S220/436622489_1518155075_0.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/SyZs27oVGDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YSTErYVdi_c/s72-c/ethanfromepic' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5630243630798606306</id><published>2009-12-13T20:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T20:36:53.104-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell- due 12/18</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/SyWWoknrEhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VErzbAQjXVU/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414899750751900178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 304px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/SyWWoknrEhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VErzbAQjXVU/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Throughout the story, winter plays a key role. It is said to be a "stifiling force." Many say that the characters have come to represent to the winter. Use specific examples and/or quotes from the book that back up this statement&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5630243630798606306?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5630243630798606306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5630243630798606306' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5630243630798606306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5630243630798606306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/12/b-bell-due-1218.html' title='B Bell- due 12/18'/><author><name>Emily S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01631746099012806632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/SyWWoknrEhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VErzbAQjXVU/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2473993378210015242</id><published>2009-12-04T10:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T10:29:16.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F Bell Ethan Frome</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/SxkqlWTJ3DI/AAAAAAAAAAk/JHYRhZUNZbw/s1600-h/Ethan+Frome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/SxkqlWTJ3DI/AAAAAAAAAAk/JHYRhZUNZbw/s320/Ethan+Frome.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411403248391806002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"The inexorable facts closed in on him like prison-warders handcuffing a convict. There was no way out--none. He was a prisoner for life..." (66).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ethan Frome&lt;/span&gt; Ethan is continually manipulated by other characters. Provide an example of this recurring theme. Do you feel that Ethan has resigned himself to the fact that he is not in control, or do you feel that he is struggling to assert himself?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2473993378210015242?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2473993378210015242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2473993378210015242' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2473993378210015242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2473993378210015242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/12/f-bell-ethan-frome.html' title='F Bell Ethan Frome'/><author><name>Anne Stuart Riddick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05233224410134226141</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/SxkqlWTJ3DI/AAAAAAAAAAk/JHYRhZUNZbw/s72-c/Ethan+Frome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5262601382561675407</id><published>2009-12-03T18:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T19:06:40.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B - David, Martin, Due Dec 11</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SxhQ1apCZZI/AAAAAAAAABA/PbztHZqAcK0/s1600-h/Zeena.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411163830900385170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SxhQ1apCZZI/AAAAAAAAABA/PbztHZqAcK0/s320/Zeena.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Zenobia Frome (Zeena) is originally protrayed as an old hag. She natters, she nags, and she alienates Ethan by removing the last thing that made his life worth living: Mattie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, when Ethan and Mattie attempt to kill themselves, Zeena is the one that takes care of them. She nurtures them back to health, just as Ethan had nursed her, and even kept Mattie. This seems a radical change of character for Zeena! Is this actually a change, or was as she this kind the whole time? Find a situation from the novel to either illustrate her previous kindness, or to explain why she would change so completely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5262601382561675407?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5262601382561675407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5262601382561675407' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5262601382561675407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5262601382561675407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/12/b-david-martin-due-dec-11.html' title='B - David, Martin, Due Dec 11'/><author><name>David L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08381512993453832963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SskaU32WF0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/vmgxX9Gunjc/S220/Me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SxhQ1apCZZI/AAAAAAAAABA/PbztHZqAcK0/s72-c/Zeena.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6933061140618549465</id><published>2009-11-16T12:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T12:53:57.681-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Williams' Symbolism- Mary Cornell and Emily Stein- B Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SwGQxrCvUDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4_EKvnzI0uc/s1600/logo_glass_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SwGQxrCvUDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4_EKvnzI0uc/s320/logo_glass_400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404760210863509554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Glass Menagerie&lt;/span&gt;, one of his characters is shy, passive Laura. She has very poor social skills and connects only with her "glass menagerie" of animals. Her favorite is the unicorn. Explain why and what this reveals about her character. Also explain the possible significance of its horn breaking.&lt;br /&gt;due 11/21&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6933061140618549465?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6933061140618549465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6933061140618549465' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6933061140618549465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6933061140618549465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/11/williams-symbolism-mary-cornell-and.html' title='Williams&apos; Symbolism- Mary Cornell and Emily Stein- B Bell'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13703472142036882045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SwGQxrCvUDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4_EKvnzI0uc/s72-c/logo_glass_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-295578568726580161</id><published>2009-11-14T07:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T22:58:25.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Theatricality - F Bell</title><content type='html'>We have seen that Williams places a lot of emphasis upon theatricality in "The Glass Menagerie" - because this play focuses upon the importance of memories and how volatile they can be, various setting and speech descriptions are imperative in deciphering which scenes or actions of the play are the most important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using specific quotes from the play, explore how Williams' use of stage directions enhance our comprehension of the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is due 11/21.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Meera and Andrea&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-295578568726580161?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/295578568726580161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=295578568726580161' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/295578568726580161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/295578568726580161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/11/theatricality-f-bell-due-119.html' title='Theatricality - F Bell'/><author><name>Meera Venkataraman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03584514066937037833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7350055911651117447</id><published>2009-11-10T20:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T20:24:50.864-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Glass Menagerie B Bell</title><content type='html'>Watch the attached clip of Williams' "The Glass Menagerie."  Since we have spent the last few weeks exploring the world of plays, comment on the theatrics in the clip.  Were the actors in character?  Were they believable characters?  Notice the relationship dynamics between Tom and Amanda.  This is obviously not a normal adult to adult relationship.  How does this relationship differ from what the reader expects?  Use quotations from the clip or the play to help you formulate your answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GFeQbEUjHVk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GFeQbEUjHVk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7350055911651117447?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7350055911651117447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7350055911651117447' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7350055911651117447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7350055911651117447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/11/glass-menagerie-b-bell.html' title='The Glass Menagerie B Bell'/><author><name>Elizabeth Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00735128619683547941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-148048359577708027</id><published>2009-11-10T17:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T17:50:33.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Glass Menagerie - Bell F</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Watch this video from scene 7 of The Glass Menagerie.   After watching the scene, analyze what you saw and discuss how you think this scene relates to a &lt;u&gt;theme&lt;/u&gt; of the short story.  You may use quotes, examples from the video, or pretty much anything relating to this scene that will help you describe the theme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;go to this address:  &lt;a target="_blank" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKI49JfNPNc"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKI49JfNPNc&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is being moderated by Channing and Kristen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-148048359577708027?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/148048359577708027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=148048359577708027' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/148048359577708027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/148048359577708027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/11/glass-menagerie-bell-f.html' title='The Glass Menagerie - Bell F'/><author><name>Channing M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11378919633796766705</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7397873184622566674</id><published>2009-10-30T19:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T19:14:59.179-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B Bell- A Doll's House (Grace and Emily)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/SutzW-n6EuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/od8nIOgqNLs/s1600-h/dolls_house1%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/SutzW-n6EuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/od8nIOgqNLs/s200/dolls_house1%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398535416938369762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A principle of Marxist theory is that "human consciousness is a product of social conditions and that human relationships are often subverted by and through economic considerations." In essence, how do the characters in "A Doll's House,"(i.e. Nora, Ms. Linde, Krogstad, Helmer, and Dr. Rank) display that their "consciousness" is a product of their economic conditions and relationships with each other? You may focus on just one character, and please don't hesitate to use quotes freely to support your answer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7397873184622566674?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7397873184622566674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7397873184622566674' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7397873184622566674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7397873184622566674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/b-bell-dolls-house-grace-and-emily.html' title='B Bell- A Doll&apos;s House (Grace and Emily)'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05276888227278934953</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/SutzW-n6EuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/od8nIOgqNLs/s72-c/dolls_house1%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1787884881645520525</id><published>2009-10-30T18:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T19:08:32.044-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Doll House- October 30th</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sutwk8A76oI/AAAAAAAAAAc/mcXP1Lbve_E/s1600-h/DSCN0174.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 284px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sutwk8A76oI/AAAAAAAAAAc/mcXP1Lbve_E/s200/DSCN0174.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398532358221326978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"When I lived at home with Papa, he told me all his opinions, so I had the same ones too; or if they were different I hid them, since he wouldn't have cared for that. He used to call me his doll-child, and he played with me the way I played with my dolls," (Nora, 1579).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quotation blatantly makes the connection between Nora and a doll. Please further explore the symbol of the doll, either in relation to the story or  to the time period in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is being moderated by Kelsey and Anne Stuart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1787884881645520525?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1787884881645520525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1787884881645520525' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1787884881645520525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1787884881645520525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/doll-house-october-30th.html' title='A Doll House- October 30th'/><author><name>Anne Stuart Riddick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05233224410134226141</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sutwk8A76oI/AAAAAAAAAAc/mcXP1Lbve_E/s72-c/DSCN0174.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2189500639184213199</id><published>2009-10-23T15:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T16:07:22.165-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Foiled Characters- F Bell</title><content type='html'>In &lt;em&gt;A Doll House&lt;/em&gt; by Ibsen, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Krogstad&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Torvald&lt;/span&gt; are foiled characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the tarantella is taking place, Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Linde&lt;/span&gt; sends a note requesting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Krogstad&lt;/span&gt; to come and see her. Readers learn of their past relationship and also of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Krogstad's&lt;/span&gt; respective nature towards women. Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Linde&lt;/span&gt; says, "I need to have someone to care for; and your children need a mother. We both need each other. Nils, I have faith that your good at heart- I'll risk everything together with you" (1749). In response, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Krogstad&lt;/span&gt; says, "Kristine, thank you, thank you- Now I know I can win back a place in their eyes" (1749). By &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;acknowledging&lt;/span&gt; and appreciating what Kristine is offering, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Krogstad&lt;/span&gt; shows how he is uncommonly respectful towards women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Provide a quote of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Torvald's&lt;/span&gt; interactions with Nora that foils &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Krogstad's&lt;/span&gt; mentality towards women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This blog is managed by Abby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Maurno&lt;/span&gt; and Ashley Lauder &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2189500639184213199?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2189500639184213199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2189500639184213199' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2189500639184213199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2189500639184213199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/foiled-characters-f-bell.html' title='Foiled Characters- F Bell'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14380515411390165785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Stu03AQbnoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aZIXUtIZcZ0/S220/436622489_1518155075_0.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-7035628807691365545</id><published>2009-10-22T15:25:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T15:54:21.444-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Contrasts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diana Heriford'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A Doll&apos;s House'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yousra Aboulatta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='B Bell'/><title type='text'>B Bell- A Doll's House (Diana and Yousra) due Oct. 30</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.leebreuer.com/VVphoto2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 380px;" src="http://www.leebreuer.com/VVphoto2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You never loved me. You've thought it fun to be in love with me, that's all&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;-Nora,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; A Doll's House&lt;/span&gt; (p. 1301)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; A Doll's House&lt;/span&gt;, Nora wants more from her relationship with Torvald. She is uns&lt;img src="file:///Users/usliboffice/Desktop/VVphoto2.jpg" alt="" /&gt;atisfied with her marriage, but when Dr. Rank professes his love for her later on in the novel, she denies him, stating: "...there are some people that one loves most and other people that one would almost prefer being with."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would she really prefer being with Dr. Rank, or is this an easy way of letting him down? Could Dr. Rank ever satisfy her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could any man during this age truly satisfy a woman like Nora?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please use quotes liberally, and references to other novels are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Juice-ra and Diagnus~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-7035628807691365545?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/7035628807691365545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=7035628807691365545' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7035628807691365545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/7035628807691365545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/b-bell-dolls-house-diana-and-yousra-due.html' title='B Bell- A Doll&apos;s House (Diana and Yousra) due Oct. 30'/><author><name>Yousra Aboulatta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02152939704165176913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1689751716566892233</id><published>2009-10-20T19:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T19:52:55.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Doll House by Henrik Ibsen</title><content type='html'>"Still it was tremendous fun sitting there working and earning money. It was almost like being a man," (Ibsen).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;em&gt;A Doll House&lt;/em&gt; by Henrik Ibsen has powerful feminist undertones. Nora shows her independence by earning money and taking a more active role in the care of the family. She starts to enjoy being able to work for herself and take care of others. Nora's secret financial independence empowers her and gives her a sense of responsibility that fuels her sense of freedom. Show how this quote provides insight not only into Nora's personal mentality, but also into societal views concerning the role of women in this day. Discuss how Ibsen's play contains some examples of true feminism, while not giving the women too much credit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1689751716566892233?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1689751716566892233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1689751716566892233' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1689751716566892233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1689751716566892233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/doll-house-by-henrik-ibsen.html' title='A Doll House by Henrik Ibsen'/><author><name>Tripp</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02856737047891538940</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6970913251950765532</id><published>2009-10-16T17:07:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T17:35:50.718-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigmund Freud's Psychic Apparatus</title><content type='html'>F Bell Ap Language&lt;a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTefNs4dhKTRwAClKjzbkF/SIG=12qc7dbdf/EXP=1255813868/**http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Woody-Allen-Photograph-C10101606.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 384px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 477px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTefNs4dhKTRwAClKjzbkF/SIG=12qc7dbdf/EXP=1255813868/**http%3A//artfiles.art.com/images/-/Woody-Allen-Photograph-C10101606.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Freud's psychic apparatus(a component of Freud's structural model of the psyche), for which he used to practice psychoanalysis, is composed of the instinctual id, the realistic ego, and the moralistic super-ego. The id drives our instinctual pleasures while the ego seeks out ways to realistically satisfy the id. The super-ego restrains our id from acting out its pleasures and tries to obey the moral codes of society. All three of these components are exist in our unconscious minds, but they exist at different depths. The id is buried deep within the unconscious mind, the ego is somewhere in the middle, and the super-ego peers into our conscience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The above quotation came from Freud himself. What kind of role do the id, ego, and super-ego play in the act of lying, as described by Freud?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6970913251950765532?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6970913251950765532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6970913251950765532' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6970913251950765532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6970913251950765532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/sigmund-freuds-psychic-apparatus.html' title='Sigmund Freud&apos;s Psychic Apparatus'/><author><name>Kawleen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-zoMzXhv09E/TFeSD4QbwxI/AAAAAAAAACs/E1tT1MmP7cw/S220/sittin.JPG'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5302979108079220347</id><published>2009-10-14T18:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T19:36:43.805-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Psychoanalysis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://mommasunshine.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/dr_phil_mcgraw1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 363px;" src="http://mommasunshine.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/dr_phil_mcgraw1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psychoanalysis is based on the assumption of the subconscious or superego and that humans are driven by desires, fears, needs, and conflicts of which we are unaware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relate one of the common core issues (listed below) to yourself or a character in literature. If you're relating a core issue to yourself, explain a dream or event that either explains or causes these issues. If you're relating to a character from literature, regard an internal monologue or an event that shows the core issues the character has. Remember: It is quite possible for someone to have more than one core issue, or one core issue that causes another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="1"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;th&gt;Common Core Issues&lt;/th&gt;&lt;th&gt;Definition&lt;/th&gt;&lt;th&gt;Common Dreams Associated&lt;/th&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Fear of Intimacy&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A feeling that emotion closeness will hurt us&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Being found naked in public&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Fear of Abandonment&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A feeling that friends and loved ones will desert you or stop caring&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Images of death&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Fear of Betrayal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A feeling that friends and loved ones can't be trusted&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Low Self-esteem&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A feeling that one is less worthy than others&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Dreaming of falling&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Insecure or Unstable Sense of Self&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A feeling that one lacks personal identity&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Oedipal Fixation&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A dysfuntional bond with a parent of opposite sex&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/table&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other dreams and the feelings associated with them include:&lt;br /&gt;Storms and rain - Turbulence, Feeling Overwhelmed, Restlessness&lt;br /&gt;Being Chased - Suppression, a need to forget&lt;br /&gt;Missing a train - A missed opportunity&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5302979108079220347?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5302979108079220347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5302979108079220347' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5302979108079220347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5302979108079220347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/psychoanalysis.html' title='Psychoanalysis'/><author><name>Hunter D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11206319475350271625</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1214760066010880821</id><published>2009-10-09T23:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T00:07:43.015-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Barn Burning" by William Faulkner - B Bell, Ray Pulver</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/4816957/lying-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 197px;" src="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/4816957/lying-main_Full.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not certain as to what I'm supposed to post about, but I picked this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Barn Burning" follows the account of Colonel Sartoris Snopes and his family as they struggle with his father's pyromania and deep hatred for people. The decision Sartoris must make between lying for his father or being honest creates a powerful inner conflict within him. His internal monologue, italicized within the text, reveals much about the character as he struggles with this decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are some examples of Sartoris' internal monologue and how do they relate to the story's theme?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1214760066010880821?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1214760066010880821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1214760066010880821' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1214760066010880821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1214760066010880821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/barn-burning-by-william-faulkner-b-bell.html' title='&quot;Barn Burning&quot; by William Faulkner - B Bell, Ray Pulver'/><author><name>Ray</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03712194841954966412</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Su9pxbRAUSI/AAAAAAAAAAY/GdVgNQxDPJs/s1600-R/getmoney.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5368205798141573439</id><published>2009-10-09T13:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T13:39:51.071-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This quote portrays both themes through the grandmother's use of religion to try to dissuade the misfit from killing her and the flaw in her character, which is believing she is among the best and doesn't deserve to be killed. The grandmother's use of religious morals conveys the common catholic theme in O'Connor's stories, but she also shows her obvious flaw. She begs the misfit not to kill her and she offers anything to save her life, however at this point her family is dead and she hasn't even shown the slightest bit of despair for their deaths, exposing her selfishness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5368205798141573439?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5368205798141573439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5368205798141573439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5368205798141573439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5368205798141573439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-quote-portrays-both-themes-through.html' title=''/><author><name>Abby M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08058257290719185448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wMncbWDeKgg/Sn3bd0I3grI/AAAAAAAAAAM/D807dg0Lkl0/S220/hot+srpings.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1536840875736589301</id><published>2009-10-08T10:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T10:22:46.679-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This quote shows how even as the old woman is about to be killed, she believes that there is still good in The Misfit's heart. The old woman believes that eveyone has good in them and that there is still hope for those who seem to be lost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1536840875736589301?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1536840875736589301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1536840875736589301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1536840875736589301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1536840875736589301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-quote-shows-how-even-as-old-woman.html' title=''/><author><name>Tripp</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02856737047891538940</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5231711506246319260</id><published>2009-10-05T21:04:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T22:13:33.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Alyssa Grigg and Elizabeth Edens</title><content type='html'>F Bell:&lt;br /&gt;Two common themes in many of Flannery O’Conner’s short stories are morals derived from the Catholic religion along with over exaggerated flaws in her characters. In A Good Man is Hard to Find, O’Conner emphasizes both of these themes through the grandmother. When she is about to be killed by The Misfit, the grandmother says, “Jesus! You’ve got good blood! I know you wouldn’t shoot a lady! I know you come from nice people! Pray! Jesus, you ought not to shoot a lady. I’ll give you all the money I’ve got!” (454). Analyze this quote and how it captures the themes that O’Conner is trying to portray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5231711506246319260?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5231711506246319260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5231711506246319260' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5231711506246319260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5231711506246319260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/alyssa-grigg-and-elizabeth-edens.html' title='Alyssa Grigg and Elizabeth Edens'/><author><name>Alyssa G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13844185504450514493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dXJTtm9CJrU/SohXwU9iZvI/AAAAAAAAAAM/n-bZOS3zd_U/S220/997.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8028592322304846970</id><published>2009-10-02T17:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T17:23:13.452-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flannery O'Connor - B Bell, David and Martin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SsZvF724jEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kpuY-rq4pCQ/s1600-h/Villain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388116151953296450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SsZvF724jEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kpuY-rq4pCQ/s320/Villain.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of the three stories of Flannery O’Connor we have read have a distinct “villain”: the Misfit, Manley Pointer, and Mary Grace. Do these villains have any redeeming features? Do they have anything in common? Conversely, how do they differ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8028592322304846970?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8028592322304846970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8028592322304846970' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8028592322304846970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8028592322304846970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/each-of-three-stories-of-flannery.html' title='Flannery O&apos;Connor - B Bell, David and Martin'/><author><name>David L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08381512993453832963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SskaU32WF0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/vmgxX9Gunjc/S220/Me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SsZvF724jEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kpuY-rq4pCQ/s72-c/Villain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4281836363605847251</id><published>2009-10-02T08:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T08:38:10.860-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Posts on Flannery O'Connor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SsX0IAsngNI/AAAAAAAAADs/5WfaHmhwJFk/s1600-h/FlanneryO%27Connor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SsX0IAsngNI/AAAAAAAAADs/5WfaHmhwJFk/s320/FlanneryO%27Connor.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #741b47;"&gt;If you are in the group in charge of starting this discussion, please be sure to see me to get your discussion idea approved.&amp;nbsp; It needs to be posted by midnight on Friday, 10/2.&amp;nbsp; You may email me your idea if you don't have time to come and see me.&amp;nbsp; Be sure you identify the bell in your post.&amp;nbsp; You are only to respond to the post created by the students in your bell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4281836363605847251?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4281836363605847251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4281836363605847251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4281836363605847251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4281836363605847251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/10/posts-on-flannery-oconnor.html' title='Posts on Flannery O&apos;Connor'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SsX0IAsngNI/AAAAAAAAADs/5WfaHmhwJFk/s72-c/FlanneryO%27Connor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4604124663361454601</id><published>2009-09-30T15:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T15:32:00.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>R&amp;G logic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nv_Xv9WvTac/SsOyJrAQoaI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUXDQa9af9o/s1600-h/aurora.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nv_Xv9WvTac/SsOyJrAQoaI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUXDQa9af9o/s320/aurora.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387345458497626530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" The scientific approach to the examination of phenomena is a defence against the pure emotion of fear. Keep tight hold and continue while there's time" (17).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rosencrantz and Guildenstern show that education takes away fear and misunderstandings. By studying and observing things that one does not understand, one is able to learn about such things and therefore understands how they work. The newfound understanding turns what was once phenomena into something understandable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4604124663361454601?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4604124663361454601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4604124663361454601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4604124663361454601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4604124663361454601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/r-logic.html' title='R&amp;G logic'/><author><name>Tripp</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02856737047891538940</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nv_Xv9WvTac/SsOyJrAQoaI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUXDQa9af9o/s72-c/aurora.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4295873237366699182</id><published>2009-09-30T12:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T13:01:15.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://collegeotr.s3.amazonaws.com/images/blogs/53786d9cd25c1ea4f3b5377b4faf2d59.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://collegeotr.s3.amazonaws.com/images/blogs/53786d9cd25c1ea4f3b5377b4faf2d59.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"GUIL: Yes, I'm very fond of boats myself. I like the way they're - contained. You don't have to worry about which way to go, or whether to go at all - the question doesn't arise, because you're on a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;boat&lt;/span&gt;, aren't you? Boats are safe areas in the game of tag... the players will hold their positions until the music starts.... I think I'll spend most of my life on boats" (100-101)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    T-Pain is obviously also fond of boats. Really, I chose this quote because it embodies the essence of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ... their stupidity. Throughout the novel, their pointless, drifting conversations address everything from theories on coin-flipping to Hamlet's behavior; and everything else from boats to death. However, they manage to take seemingly deep, philosophical thoughts, and drain them of any cognitive substance. Every colloquial exchange between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is utterly devoid of all substance and import. The best way to describe a vast majority of the exchanges in the play is sheer ignorant circumlocution. The pair runs around subjects over and again, managing, somehow, to escape any hint of rational thought. Tom Stoppard's play is a fun-filled, action-packed, profoundly inane, and thoughtfully thoughtless amalgam of dialogue. Reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rosencrantz &amp;amp; Guildenstern Are Dead&lt;/span&gt; has given me a much deeper appreciation for plain logic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4295873237366699182?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4295873237366699182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4295873237366699182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4295873237366699182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4295873237366699182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/guil-yes-im-very-fond-of-boats-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>john</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05341440100190933369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1551302583612263922</id><published>2009-09-29T21:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:10:52.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bless Me Ultima</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/7612818/2/istockphoto_7612818-golden-carp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 266px;" src="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/7612818/2/istockphoto_7612818-golden-carp.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In Tony's already confused world of magic versus religion, the Golden Carp signifies yet one more source for his doubts about Christianity. Cico introduces Tony to the Golden Carp, a pagan god who is a symbol of forgiveness, unlike the Christian God who Tony believes is cruel and unforgiving.  The carp is beautiful and huge, a true source of awe. At the realization that, contrary to Christian belief, there are other gods, Tony begins to question who his mother is truly praying to- who is Jesus, who is the Virgen de Guadalupe? Tony's doubts about Christianity further deepen when he makes his First Holy Communion, a religious rite of passage in Catholicism where children eat God's body in the form of a wafer. Antonio expects to hear the voice of God at the moment the takes the Eucharist into his body. He expects that this will be a monumental event and that everything will be clear to him after that. After nothing happens, Tony is utterly disappointed. He wonders why he can see the carp and not God. Tony begins to believe that God may not be real because he is intangible, whereas the carp is easily recognized because it is a physical item; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"The orange of the golden carp appeared at the edge of the pond. As he         came out of the darkness of the pond the sun caught his shiny scales and         the light reflected orange and yellow and red. He swam very close to our         feet. His body was round and smooth in the clear water. We watched in         silence at the beauty and grandeur of the great fish" (p. 115). &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1551302583612263922?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1551302583612263922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1551302583612263922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1551302583612263922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1551302583612263922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/bless-me-ultima_29.html' title='Bless Me Ultima'/><author><name>Martin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03688432490926985513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1213450007671482387</id><published>2009-09-28T19:51:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T20:41:00.977-04:00</updated><title type='text'>poisonwood bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dXJTtm9CJrU/SsFXjX6j-NI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJc5U6Z-Sok/s1600-h/pwb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386682894538504402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dXJTtm9CJrU/SsFXjX6j-NI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJc5U6Z-Sok/s320/pwb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quote: "He noticed the children less and less. He was hardly a father except in the vocational sense, as a potter with clay to be molded. Their individual laughter he could not recognize, nor their anguish. He never saw how Adah chose her own exile; how rachel was dying for the normal life of slumber parties and record albums she was missing. And poor Leah. Leah followed him around like an underpaid waitress hoping for the tip. It broke my heart. I sent her away from him on everypretense I knew" (98).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the unique features of Kingsolver's novel is the way in which it brings a feminist perspective to a history that has largely been told from a white, male perspective.&lt;br /&gt;The novel, which is told from the perspective of the four Price daughters and their mother, takes on themes of activism and feminism. Instead of treating women as subjected voices, the novel brings their voices to the forefront. Their perspective on the family's missionary activities highlight the violence often inherent in the process of colonization. Nathan Price's story might have been told as the story of a hero who heroically ventured into the African jungle and was martyred for his work. Instead, through the feminist perspective, we see a man that was both violent and ignorant to the cultural situations into which he brought his family.Nathan exploits his wife and daughters to further his own agenda and wrestle with his personal demons, and does not seem to care if he sacrifices their well-being in the process. As the strongest driving force for their presence in Africa, Nathan also has the least understanding of the people he's trying to convert of anyone in his family. To varying degrees, the Price women adapt to their surroundings. Their experiences in the Congo eventually prompt Orleanna and Leah to stand up to Nathan and determine their own destiny. After Leah observes her father's self-serving motives in his interaction with the Africans, she refuses to allow him to control her behavior and begins to adopt some of the villagers' customs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This describes the major theme expressed in the novel, the women's movement towards free will. This theme extends throughout the novel and builds through each of the Price women. Because the Price women are their own authors we can see each of their developments and growths leading to the breaking of the social forms forced on them by their father, Nathan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Alyssa G.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1213450007671482387?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1213450007671482387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1213450007671482387' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1213450007671482387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1213450007671482387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/poisonwood-bible_28.html' title='poisonwood bible'/><author><name>Alyssa G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13844185504450514493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dXJTtm9CJrU/SohXwU9iZvI/AAAAAAAAAAM/n-bZOS3zd_U/S220/997.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dXJTtm9CJrU/SsFXjX6j-NI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJc5U6Z-Sok/s72-c/pwb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5303389293457717968</id><published>2009-09-26T20:34:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T22:30:34.172-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Poisonwood Bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wMncbWDeKgg/Sr7D35ApFsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/JR-_3Y7gE7g/s1600-h/rachel+tv.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 289px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wMncbWDeKgg/Sr7D35ApFsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/JR-_3Y7gE7g/s320/rachel+tv.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385957569345427138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do I ever think about the life I missed in the good old U.S.A.? Practically every day would be my answer. Oh, goodness, the parties, the cars, the music- the whole carefree American way of life. I've missed being a part of something you could really believe in. When we finally got TV here, for a long while they ran Dick Clark and the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;American Bandstand&lt;/span&gt; every afternoon at four o'clock. I'd lock up the bar, make myself a double Singapore Sling, settle down with a paper fan, and practically swoon with grief. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; how to do those hairstyles. I could have been something in America. Then why not go back? Well, now it's too late, of course" (Kingsolver 614).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even now when Rachel owns a successful hotel with all the conveniences Africa could offer, she still misses living in the United States. Despite all her best efforts, including running away with a man she did not love, deserting her family, and trying to be apart of a more civilized community within Africa, Rachel is not able to duplicate the lifestyle she would have lived in America. Because of that she is miserable and lonely for her family or any sort of true companionship. When presented with the truly obvious solution of returning to America, she realizes it's too late; Africa has become so much a part of her persona that without it, she would no longer be the Rachel who survived everything set against her and is still thriving, but rather a woman who is too old to start over and trying to live in a time that has already past.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5303389293457717968?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5303389293457717968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5303389293457717968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5303389293457717968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5303389293457717968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/poisonwood-bible.html' title='Poisonwood Bible'/><author><name>Abby M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08058257290719185448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wMncbWDeKgg/Sn3bd0I3grI/AAAAAAAAAAM/D807dg0Lkl0/S220/hot+srpings.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wMncbWDeKgg/Sr7D35ApFsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/JR-_3Y7gE7g/s72-c/rachel+tv.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5216705598780245715</id><published>2009-09-26T17:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T21:17:26.401-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger - Albert Camus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Sr66b_3lxxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qf5deFxlEyE/s1600-h/4845_1162868345603_1044671823_48195.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 287px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Sr66b_3lxxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qf5deFxlEyE/s320/4845_1162868345603_1044671823_48195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385947194545522450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd passed my life in a certain way, and I might have passed it in a different way, if I'd felt like it. I'd acted thus, and I hadn't acted otherwise; I hadn't done &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt;, whereas I had done &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;y&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;z&lt;/span&gt;. And what did that mean? That, all the time, I'd been waiting for this present moment, for that dawn, tomorrow's or another day's, which was to justify me. Nothing, nothing had the least importance and I knew quite well why" (Camus 74-75).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Stranger&lt;/span&gt; follows the account of Meursault, who proves to hold little value for life as the story's events unfold. Between caring little about the passing of his mother and murdering a man for no reason, everything Meursault does reflects his bitter indifference. It is at this point in the novel, as Meursault is faced with his mortality, that the book's underlying nihilistic themes truly present themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nihilism is the belief in nothing. It holds that life has no intrinsic value or purpose. We are godless, insignificant, and our coming into existence was just as pointless as our inevitable disappearance will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meursault exhibits this nihilist outlook throughout the book. The choice that he makes in murdering the Arab who had cut his friend Raymond leads him to his demise. When confronted by a chaplain in prison, he begins to reflect the impact of this decision. Consistent with nihilist thinking, he reasons that his impending doom is no different from the death we are all destined to face. He followed the path that he did, and the end was no different from the end he would have met if he had followed any other path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote is one of the most important in the novel because it lays out the basis of Meursault's thinking. He believes that no one is any more important than anyone else because no one is important. No matter what path we take, we will not escape the nothingness of death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nihilist theme of life's intrinsic insignificance is also present in the above picture of a boot about to crush a flower. The flower is an immensely complex organism which has spent its entire life growing to the point at which it is pictured, but it is also about to be erased from existence, destroyed without anyone's knowledge or consent, regardless of all its success in growing to a fully flowered plant. However, the foot that is about to crush the flower is in no way a more significant entity, for eventually it will become equally as dead and meaningless as the flower it is crushing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5216705598780245715?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5216705598780245715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5216705598780245715' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5216705598780245715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5216705598780245715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger-albert-camus.html' title='The Stranger - Albert Camus'/><author><name>Ray</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03712194841954966412</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Su9pxbRAUSI/AAAAAAAAAAY/GdVgNQxDPJs/s1600-R/getmoney.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6d5L9tPEhBc/Sr66b_3lxxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qf5deFxlEyE/s72-c/4845_1162868345603_1044671823_48195.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2223112698026693288</id><published>2009-09-25T22:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T22:23:32.998-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Poisonwood Bible- Rachel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Sr17A9ghFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZU5VnYSPy-0/s1600-h/Tarotwebsite_Blonde_Girl_at_door_larger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385595985846146322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Sr17A9ghFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZU5VnYSPy-0/s320/Tarotwebsite_Blonde_Girl_at_door_larger.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I kept thinking, everyone is in such a festive mood, and Leah is just not that far away, in miles. Mother and Adah keep saying they might come over to visit, and if they could cross an entire ocean, you would think Leah would stoop to taking a bus. Plus, supposedly Father is still over here wandering about in the jungle, and honestly, what else does &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; have to do? He could get all cleaned up and pay a visit to his eldest daughter. Oh, I dreamed of a true class reunion of our family. Just imagine all their faces, if they saw this place. Which, I might add, none of them came" (Kingsolver 463).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This quote is particularly memorable because Rachel wants her family to visit her. She wants a family reunion, and not to be alone by herself, forgotten. She may be selfish in imagining "their faces, if they saw this place," because it seems like she only wants her family to see her accomplishments and not her. The fact that "none of them came" made Rachel want to give up on her family, but she could never forget about what it might be like if they came to visit her. Rachel may have been the materialistic outcast of the family, but she did miss them. She wanted them to be proud of her and the life she made for herself, but this wish never seemed to become a reality for Rachel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2223112698026693288?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2223112698026693288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2223112698026693288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2223112698026693288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2223112698026693288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/poisonwood-bible-rachel.html' title='Poisonwood Bible- Rachel'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14380515411390165785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Stu03AQbnoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aZIXUtIZcZ0/S220/436622489_1518155075_0.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M8oHrVYf9pQ/Sr17A9ghFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZU5VnYSPy-0/s72-c/Tarotwebsite_Blonde_Girl_at_door_larger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2348011248168597014</id><published>2009-09-25T21:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T22:26:19.694-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is the What by Dave Eggers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://infinitygoods.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/tree-roots-by-pzel-in-flickr-public-files.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://infinitygoods.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/tree-roots-by-pzel-in-flickr-public-files.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“Death took boys every day, and in a familiar way: quickly and decisively, without much warning or fanfare. These boys were faces to me, boys I had sat next to for a meal, or who I had seen fishing in a river. I began to wonder if they were all the same, if there was any reason one of them would be taken by death while another would not. I began to expect it at any moment” (198). It was possible that it was not random, that God was taking the weak from the group. Perhaps only the strongest were meant to make it to Ethiopia; there was only enough Ethiopia for the best of the boys” (198).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Achak Deng grows accustomed to death because it is an atrocity that surrounds him every day. He travels with a group of young boys, much like himself, that are forced to flee southern Sudan due to the civil war. The journey to the safe territory of Ethiopia is brutal, but necessary in order to evade certain death. During their travel, the boys encounter numerous ways of dying. Most perished due to disease, exhaustion, or animal attacks. Achak observes members of his group dying from these causes on a daily basis. When a boy became sick from exhaustion or disease, he would find a tree to sit up against. He would then rest his head against the tree and “…the life in him would fall away and his flesh would return to the earth” (198). He notices the number of boys in the group drastically dwindling during the last stretch before Ethiopia. This is when he realizes that “…only the strongest were meant to make it to Ethiopia…” (198).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tree roots depict the setting of numerous deaths. A sickly child spends its final moments resting against the bottom of a tree until its soul is absorbed by the roots of the earth. The mangled tree roots also symbolize Achak’s tumultuous journey. His past is painful and complex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2348011248168597014?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2348011248168597014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2348011248168597014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2348011248168597014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2348011248168597014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-is-what-by-dave-eggers.html' title='What is the What by Dave Eggers'/><author><name>deidre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00760674176085414088</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6338840339639517154</id><published>2009-09-25T19:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T19:35:17.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is the What</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.ggibsongallery.com/artists/rare/RC_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 355px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 427px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.ggibsongallery.com/artists/rare/RC_4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ggibsongallery.com/artists/rare/RC_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You were there, Tabitha. You were there with me then and I believe you are with me now. Just as I once pictured my mother walking to me in her dress the color of a pregnant sun, I now take solace in imagining you descending an escalator in your pink shirt, you heart-shaped face overtaken by a magnificent smile as everything around you ceases moving. "( 363 Eggers). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eggers portrays the acceptance stage of grief as calm and soothing, much like the settling of snow. Throughout the novel What is the What, Valentino Deng experiences the observance of violent death reapeatedly as he travels across Sudan in the midst of genocide. Yet, Tabitha's death receives more attention and more sentiment than any of the previous tumult that Valentino has encountered, understandably because of their love for each other. The realness of their relationship, which grows out of their admiration for the seemingly insignificant characteristics of each other, is made even more powerful by the circumstances of the world around them. There is proof of freudian psychology in Valentino's thoughts as well, as he is reminded of Tabitha's memory in a similar way to his mother's. Thus, the grief of Tabitha's death is imprinted in Valentino's mind with a warm and vivid type of rememberance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eggers authored the autobiographical novel What is the What. The book is about the life of Sudanese Lost Boy, Valentino Achak Deng.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6338840339639517154?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6338840339639517154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6338840339639517154' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6338840339639517154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6338840339639517154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-is-what.html' title='What is the What'/><author><name>Kawleen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-zoMzXhv09E/TFeSD4QbwxI/AAAAAAAAACs/E1tT1MmP7cw/S220/sittin.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8575425671434675625</id><published>2009-09-25T18:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T18:53:55.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6GRUqYihxYM/Sr1I8CM7M6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HEKcXpiD5rQ/s1600-h/obliv06B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6GRUqYihxYM/Sr1I8CM7M6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HEKcXpiD5rQ/s320/obliv06B.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385540925625414562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every stone here sweats with suffering, I know that.  I have never looked at them without a feeling of anguish.  But deep in my heart I know that the most wretched among you have seen a divine face emerge from their darkness.  That is the face you are asked to see" (Camus 118).&lt;br /&gt;The chaplain is finally able to come through to Meursault when he shows him this.  This brings him the closest to happiness that he has felt in a long time.  Throughout the novel he had been very alone and disconnected from his life.  In the walls he searches for the face of Marie - his greatest desire.  Meursault shows real emotions following this statement from the chaplain.  The emotions fade as they always do after he soon decides that searching for a face in the stones is pointless.&lt;br /&gt;The image represents the jail cell Meursault had been in, surrounded by the same stones from summer to summer, unable to have any changes in scenery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8575425671434675625?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8575425671434675625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8575425671434675625' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8575425671434675625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8575425671434675625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger_705.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Emily Miller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03877941459313212855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6GRUqYihxYM/Sr1I8CM7M6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HEKcXpiD5rQ/s72-c/obliv06B.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8925374218895281906</id><published>2009-09-25T15:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T16:23:42.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FDox6F3MUww/Sr0mx_SdRwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NbXjBVzdDro/s1600-h/Rosencrantz-118lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FDox6F3MUww/Sr0mx_SdRwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NbXjBVzdDro/s320/Rosencrantz-118lg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385503369649276674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dying is not romantic, and death is not a fame which will soon be over.. Death is not anything...death is not...It's the absense of presence, nothing more...the endless time of never coming back...a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound..." (Stoppard 124).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Death is commonly portrayed as a dramatic and romantic event in most classical plays, however Tom Stoppard deviates from this standard in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. &lt;/span&gt;The main characters in this play often analyze death in a simplistic fashion; Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are not sophisticated thinkers or intellectual in any sense, therefore they provide the common man's perspective on the subject. They view death merely as a stage of life that everyone experiences eventually. It is not something to be mourned, and little time should be spent thinking about it at all. This primitive train of thought is refreshing for readers and makes the play enjoyable, unlike most plays set in the 18th century. The majority of the play contains dialogue of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern satarizing other plays with heavy connotations of death. This quote adequatley represents the playful tone of the work and the character's unique personality and point of view. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8925374218895281906?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8925374218895281906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8925374218895281906' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8925374218895281906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8925374218895281906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/rosencrantz-and-guildenstern-are-dead.html' title='Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead'/><author><name>Kristen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10136295671085971371</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FDox6F3MUww/Sr0mx_SdRwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NbXjBVzdDro/s72-c/Rosencrantz-118lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8645846629100305971</id><published>2009-09-25T13:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:12:30.115-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sr0HTys0mLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IvAkIWBAVf4/s1600-h/prison+cell.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sr0HTys0mLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IvAkIWBAVf4/s320/prison+cell.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385468766013659314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd realized that the most important thing was to give the condemned man a chance. Even one in a thousand was good enough to set things right. So it seemed to me that you could come up with a mixture of chemicals that if ingested by the patient (that's the word I would use: 'patient') would kill him nine times out of ten. But he would know this--that would be the one condition. For by giving it some hard thought, by considering the whole thing calmly, i could see that the trouble with the guillotine was that you had no chance at all, absolutely none," (Camus 111).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        During his time in prison, Mersault has an extraordinary amount of free time on his hands.   If at all possible, he passes the time by sleeping.  However, one cannot sleep all day every day.  His waking hours are spent waiting.  He waits for the daily walk in the court yard and for visits from the guard.  After he is sentenced to death, Mersault waits for his execution.  Although he was never a particularly joyful or engaged individual, he now is terrified by the prospect of having his life ended.  It is ironic because he never seemed especially interested in any aspect of his life, other than satisfying his physical needs and desires.  His relationships with the people around him were superficial and had little meaning to him.  He is now faced with the certainty of being executed and suddenly expresses a great desire to live.  However, he counters these hopeful fantasies with pessimistic and rational thoughts.  He tells himself that everyone is going to die anyway, so the how and when really are of little consequence.&lt;br /&gt;        The image of the prison is a visual representation of the desperation and hopelessness that he feels. He is trapped not only by the bars on his cell, but also by the law, and by the sentence handed down by the judge.  There is no escape from either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8645846629100305971?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8645846629100305971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8645846629100305971' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8645846629100305971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8645846629100305971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger_25.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Anne Stuart Riddick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05233224410134226141</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7GZR4xSVcCs/Sr0HTys0mLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IvAkIWBAVf4/s72-c/prison+cell.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6080350572798679681</id><published>2009-09-25T10:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T10:42:06.554-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Fall Apart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d7r-XqSVzRo/SrzWHTj3F3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RwWSPB0ssXM/s1600-h/Rain_Alvord_Desert_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 157px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d7r-XqSVzRo/SrzWHTj3F3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RwWSPB0ssXM/s320/Rain_Alvord_Desert_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385414675426383730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;He felt relief as the hymn poured down his parched soul. The words of the hymn were like the drops of frozen rain melting on the dry palate of the panting earth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Religion is commonly paired with rain. In the Bible,it caused Noah's flood but also provided libation for the Jewish crossing the Sinai Desert. For the early people, rain was seen as a miracle. There was no way to efficiently carry water over long distances; rain did that for them. Rain also purified the body because it easily washed away dirt.For Nwoye his whole life was "dry"; his father felt no love or compassion for him and treated him abrasively. But religion accepted him. It was a source of comfort and something soothing. He was no longer out in the "heat" of his father's wrath, but under the cool and calm of a spiritual place. And this naturally reminded him of rain because rain is a respite from the heat. It also is the sustenance for Nwoye's crops and cattle. But now religion is the "nourishment" of his life, like the rain for his farm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6080350572798679681?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6080350572798679681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6080350572798679681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6080350572798679681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6080350572798679681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-fall-apart.html' title='Things Fall Apart'/><author><name>Yousra Aboulatta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02152939704165176913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d7r-XqSVzRo/SrzWHTj3F3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RwWSPB0ssXM/s72-c/Rain_Alvord_Desert_small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2130207129614887218</id><published>2009-09-24T22:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T23:27:54.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>"For if in the course of what has been a long career I have had the occasion to call for the death penalty,never as strongly as today have I felt this painful duty had easier, lighter, clearer by the certain knowledge of a sacred imperative and by the horror I feel when I look into a man's face and all I see is a monster" (102).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.popaganda.com/Paintings/images/p05c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 243px;" src="http://www.popaganda.com/Paintings/images/p05c.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This passage spells the beginning of the end for the main character of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Stranger&lt;/span&gt;. He killed a man for no particular reason earlier in the novel and now faces trial. The prosecutor's final statements were memorable because he articulates the main character as this gruesome, fell, and terrible beast of a man in order to get a guilty verdict. However, the reader knows that there is really no method behind the madness, the main character is simply an uncaring person. He often blames things on fate, and feels no matter what he does it will do no good to the bigger picture.  This irony foreshadows the eventual guilty verdict and subsequent death sentence beyond what the prosecutor says. The reader knows that the main character is rather hollow, and does not care to die. He is essentially already dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture not only shows someone who is literally dead, but it shows a subtle emptiness. There is no face, there is no humanity excepting the physical form of the skull, there is no feeling to it, which frightens people like the prosecutor. Black and white are the only two colors that comprise the face, which can represent the main character's lack of true depth. The emptiness and lack of caring and emotion makes the main character look like a bad guy, but he really believes he is caught up in circumstance. He is dead and there is nothing he can do about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2130207129614887218?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2130207129614887218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2130207129614887218' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2130207129614887218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2130207129614887218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger_24.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Hunter D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11206319475350271625</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8600708125400191359</id><published>2009-09-24T20:52:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T22:11:53.666-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wuthering Heights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoqmlhFDjQw/SrwXtujAYfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EqWq_FXRIMQ/s1600-h/Yorkshire+Moor.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385205328784679410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoqmlhFDjQw/SrwXtujAYfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EqWq_FXRIMQ/s320/Yorkshire+Moor.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I &lt;em&gt;am &lt;/em&gt;Heathcliff!" (80).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote from Catherine neatly and eloquently sums up her relationships with both Edgar Linton, the man she chose to marry, and Healthcliff, the man she truly loves. Catherine realizes that her "love" of Linton is superficial, as he provides her with a comfortable home and constantly dotes on her. Her relationship with Linton is beautiful and seemingly perfect on the outside, like the colorful "foliage in the woods", but truly, Catherine and Linton do not connect on the same spiritual level that she and Heathcliff do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The love Catherine feels for Heathcliff is drastically different than her love for Linton. She and Heathcliff had been inseperable since their childhood, and her claim that "whatever our souls are made of, [Heathcliff's] and mine are the same" (79) shows how profoundly she loves and identifies with Heathcliff. To her, even though her relationship with Heathcliff is often stormy and "a source of little visible delight", her love of him is so necessary she cannot live without it. Catherine's passionate exclamation, "I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; Heathcliff!", dramatically shows her love for him and reinforces her belief in the similarity of their natures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose a picture of the Yorkshire moors, where the book is set, to represent Catherine and Heathcliff's love. While the landscape is stormy and barren and has an unnatural quality about it, it is also strangely beautiful, just like Catherine's and Heathcliff's love. The rocks in the picture represent Catherine's comment about her "eternal" love for Heathcliff as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8600708125400191359?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8600708125400191359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8600708125400191359' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8600708125400191359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8600708125400191359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/wuthering-heights_24.html' title='Wuthering Heights'/><author><name>Andrea Beale</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10505772049727009034</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoqmlhFDjQw/SrwXtujAYfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EqWq_FXRIMQ/s72-c/Yorkshire+Moor.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8601041657668194629</id><published>2009-09-24T12:48:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T19:46:50.454-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger by Albert Camus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"What did other people's deaths or a mother's love matter to me; what did his God or the lives people choose or the fate they think they elect matter to me when we're all elected by the same fate, me and billions of privileged people like him who also called themselves my brother? Couldn't he see, couldn't he see that? Everybody was privileged. There were only privileged people. The others would all be condemned one day. And he would be condemned, too. What would it matter if he were accused of murder and then executed because he didn't cry at his mother's funeral? Salamano's dog was worth just as much as his wife. The little robot woman was just as guilty as the Parisian woman Masson married, or as Marie, who had wanted me to marry her. What did it matter that Raymond was as much my friend as Celeste, who was worth a lot more than him? What did it matter that Marie now offered her lips to a new Meursault? Couldn't he, couldn't this condemned man see... And that from somewhere deep in my future... All the shouting had me ga&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OereGvmfMw/ShoEV8HL_YI/AAAAAAAABTg/4cYjbWfGZGQ/s400/Strangers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 310px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OereGvmfMw/ShoEV8HL_YI/AAAAAAAABTg/4cYjbWfGZGQ/s400/Strangers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;sping for air. But they were already tearing the Chaplain from my grip" (121-122).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Throughout the majority of the novel, Meursault's most defining characteristic is his lack of any human emotions.  He fails to show any concern for his neighbor's habits of abuse or Marie's adoration for him or for the fact that he shot a man in the middle of the day on an open beach. The only realistic worry he has is fear pertaining to his execution, but even that is not a natural human reaction. As opposed to being concerned about facing death, he is upset about the definitive aspect of his execution. At one point he remarks that he would rather be executed with an injection that more than likely will kill him, but will still have a slight chance of survival.  So instead of being upset about dying, he is upset about having the rest of his life already written for him.  The above passage is the only instance where he becomes emotional, and he narrates the passage as he is attacking the Chaplain.  What set him off was the Chaplain promising Meursault that he is on his side and will pray for him.  Meursault's internal rant that proceeds explains a lot of Camus' attitudes towards life as well.  He explains that overall, the Chaplain's piety accomplishes just as much as his homicide, and that the only differences that existed between people are their different relationships. Raymond's existance is defined by his hostile relations with various women; Marie's existance is defined by her relationship with Meursault, and then eventually someone else. Salamano's existance is defined by his relationship with his dog, and the Chaplain's existance is defined by his relationship with God.  So, in the Chaplain's case, even if his God does not exist, the relationship is there, so he just like anyone else. Yes, Meursault will most likely die before any of the other characters, BUT he existed just as they did because of his relationships, whether they be good, bad, close, or distant. The reason Meursault responded to the Chaplain the way he did was because he knew that despite their different relationships throughout life, they were both headed for the same fate, and for the Chaplain to insinuate otherwise suggests that Meursault will suffer immensely in the afterlife for his actions, a concept which Meursault didn't believe in and didn't want to consider a possibility.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8601041657668194629?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8601041657668194629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8601041657668194629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8601041657668194629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8601041657668194629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger-by-albert-camus.html' title='The Stranger by Albert Camus'/><author><name>Keely</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13268903418570755905</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5Ye6d9M71h8/S2DryM49kCI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/vxW-hrFKdsk/S220/Snarling_Wolf_Montana-(1024x768).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OereGvmfMw/ShoEV8HL_YI/AAAAAAAABTg/4cYjbWfGZGQ/s72-c/Strangers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5864250718333025916</id><published>2009-09-24T09:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T10:08:37.022-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wuthering Heights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/Srt20Bb5LHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Vg5kt8W2uEY/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 93px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/Srt20Bb5LHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Vg5kt8W2uEY/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385028415562263666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"heaven did not seem to be my home; the angels were so angry that they flung me out, into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy. I've no more buisness to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven" (80).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote holds particular significance not only because of the figurative language, but also because of Catherine's realization that Edgar Linton is not her true soul mate. By admitting to the fact that she should, most likely not marry Edgar, she is acknowledging the lack of love and lust between her and Edgar; areas which hold an abundance of feeling and emotion with her and Heathcliff. Ultimately from Catherine choosing Edgar over Heathcliff, she is exposing her pompous and conceited characteristics. She is primarily marring Edgar because of his social status and economic stability, assets which Heathcliff does not possess. Overall, it is the fact that Catherine knows that she has no business marring Edgar, but yet she still does, which makes Catherine an even more interesting and complex character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        In her dream it is clear that the place where she is passionate about living is Weathering Heights. From her waking "sobbing for joy," it is evident that everything that she holds close to her heart rests on the Mores of the Grange. Yet, in the end she abandons the place where she truly wishes to reside, and the life she dreamt of living all for materalistic desires; futhermore neglecting her passionate love for Heathcliff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5864250718333025916?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5864250718333025916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5864250718333025916' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5864250718333025916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5864250718333025916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/wuthering-heights.html' title='Wuthering Heights'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05276888227278934953</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_53WV_z7YhEQ/Srt20Bb5LHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Vg5kt8W2uEY/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4690128655820820276</id><published>2009-09-23T22:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T22:34:49.420-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diana Heriford'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Stranger'/><title type='text'>Life and The Stranger (Camus)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.artnet.com/artwork_images/504/249619t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 104px; height: 185px;" src="http://images.artnet.com/artwork_images/504/249619t.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;"For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a 'fiancé,' why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody,&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt; nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too" (116).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;This quote is an excellent example of Meursault's existentialist views on life. When one is no longer concerned about death or the minor details of life, one has a chance to truly live and a chance at "beginning again" (116). Meursalt's mother had a chance to truly live in the time nearing her death, and she took that chance. She entered an engagement, lived as she wished to live, and took the chance to be entirely free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Meursalt feels that worrying about death is a sort of death in itself. For how can one go about living when they are constantly preoccu&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;pied with dying?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Thus, Meursalt does not mourn death like others do. For him, death seems to be another sort of life- one with complete freedom. This quote ends with Meursalt stating that he is ready to live "...it all again too" (116). At this point in the novel, he, like his Maman, is "close to death" (116). He is not afraid of dying; or rather, he is not afraid of living.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The above image is of a piece of art created by Jam&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;es O. Clark and inspired by &lt;/i&gt;The Stranger&lt;i&gt;. It is entitled "&lt;/i&gt;Muersalt&lt;i&gt;". The white and black is meant to represent the twisted confusion and chaos of worrying about death and life, while the electric blue is meant to represent the freedom of true life that outshines all.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~Diana Heriford of Camus' &lt;i&gt;The Stranger&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4690128655820820276?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4690128655820820276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4690128655820820276' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4690128655820820276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4690128655820820276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-and-stranger-camus.html' title='Life and The Stranger (Camus)'/><author><name>DH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11276023987667841735</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6510916425343078231</id><published>2009-09-23T21:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T22:22:56.355-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bless Me, Ultima</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SrrRsom_EwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jNUYZJpVvU8/s1600-h/ultima1.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384846869220233986" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SrrRsom_EwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jNUYZJpVvU8/s320/ultima1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;       The image is of the Virgin of Guadalupe or Christianity's mother Mary, framed by two moons and a crown of thorns. It represents the beauty of the protagonist's search for faith and religious sanctity in his surroundings including his mother's unwavering faith in the church, his grandmother-figure's wisdom in the ways of the earth, and the terribly awesome power of mother nature. Placed in the lower left corner of the image is the main character, Antonio Marez, blending in with the color that binds the image and makes it whole. He is but a young boy searching for religious peace when the story begins and continues through his experiences with his surroundings and heritage. The explanations he seeks to remedy his pious, humble confusion are brought to him in dreams; his subconscious attempts to make sense of the beliefs surrounding him by conveying "&lt;em&gt;The waters are one...You have been seeing only parts , she [the Virgin of Guadalupe] finished, and not looking beyond into the great cycle that binds us all&lt;/em&gt;" (Anaya 121). Antonio was at a loss to connect the beliefs and faiths that he was absorbing through his childhood. His mother believed in salvation through the church, his father through the blood of his ancestors within the river, his friends, a "Pagan" carp that created life, and his grand-mother figure Ultima, an herbal healer of sorts. The dream tells him that these beliefs are true, none of them are right, wrong, or superior to one another. This forces Antonio to pick his own independent path of religious faith without any influence, allowing him to finally grow into himself and become a man by his own standards and not society's, which seem so lost. It is the only way Antonio can find internal peace and not be "lost to the sin's of his people."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6510916425343078231?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6510916425343078231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6510916425343078231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6510916425343078231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6510916425343078231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/bless-me-ultima.html' title='Bless Me, Ultima'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13703472142036882045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r9cTFTrrw3c/SrrRsom_EwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jNUYZJpVvU8/s72-c/ultima1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1369843089235157006</id><published>2009-09-23T19:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T19:40:41.691-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Metamorphosis!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4RiGEORwgts/SrqxfPd_-5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/q2aFL8J0bhg/s1600-h/meta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4RiGEORwgts/SrqxfPd_-5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/q2aFL8J0bhg/s200/meta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384811454761270162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, &lt;span style="display: none;" id="spn_qtdots_1"&gt; ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="spn_qtmid_1" style="display: inline;"&gt; he found&lt;/span&gt; himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. "(1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    For an opening, this first sentence of the novella is pretty hard to beat for sheer absurdity. The idea of waking up as an insect is so extraordinary that you might find yourself re-reading the sentence, trying to figure out if there's anything in those "unsettling dreams" that precipitated the change. That's part of the game the story plays with you, it makes the reader wonder if people just change overnight and if there has to be a cause.  Little does the reader know at the time, but this sentence pretty much sums up the entire story's structure.  The whole novella follows the same type of questioning and confusing language.  It makes the reader use their imagination as to whether Gregor's change is real or just in his dreams, and also to imagine what bug Gregor resembles.  The picture resembles what I imagined Gregor to look like when waking up as a bug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1369843089235157006?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1369843089235157006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1369843089235157006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1369843089235157006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1369843089235157006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/metamorphosis.html' title='The Metamorphosis!'/><author><name>Channing M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11378919633796766705</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4RiGEORwgts/SrqxfPd_-5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/q2aFL8J0bhg/s72-c/meta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-2110994077141433923</id><published>2009-09-23T17:48:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T18:14:50.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.devlin.co.za/web/Portals/0/Blog/Humus/Demotivational%20Posters/Conformity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 233px;" src="http://www.devlin.co.za/web/Portals/0/Blog/Humus/Demotivational%20Posters/Conformity.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:tahoma;font-size:100%;"  &gt;"Mostly, I could tell, I made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't understand me, and he was sort of holding it against me. I felt the urge to reassure him that I was like everybody else, just like everybody else. But really there wasn't much point, and I gave up the idea out of laziness" (Camus 66).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the story, we see that Meursault is completely apathetic about his position in life. He has given up on obtaining lofty, unrealistic dreams. It is not until the second part of the book that we are given a real glimpse into his character and his voice, which until then is mainly suppressed and does not provide us with his opinions or additional information. This was one of my favorite quotes because we finally see that he is not quite as oblivious to how others perceive him as we believed, yet it is admirable that he cares so little for what people think of him. Meursault views conformity as something that will not benefit him, perhaps because he realizes that he will never be "just like everybody else." The fact that he gives up this notion simply because he was too lazy to do so is something truly resonant which provides a lot of insight into his actions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-2110994077141433923?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/2110994077141433923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=2110994077141433923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2110994077141433923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/2110994077141433923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger_23.html' title='the stranger'/><author><name>Meera Venkataraman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03584514066937037833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-4337336776825458578</id><published>2009-09-22T21:31:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T22:23:26.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tIeFZCAG5HY/Srl8Z2HnXtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/i8Bb92hiXo0/s1600-h/north-wind-blowing-cold-and-snow-300x240.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384471612964167378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tIeFZCAG5HY/Srl8Z2HnXtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/i8Bb92hiXo0/s320/north-wind-blowing-cold-and-snow-300x240.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Throughout the whole absurd life I'd lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living" (Camus 121).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In this quote, Albert Camus exemplifies the school of absurdist thought through Meursault's views and emotions prior to his impending execution. Though &lt;em&gt;The Stranger&lt;/em&gt; is riddled with existentialist notions and philosophy, this quote in particular demonstrates absurdism and Meursault's loss of hope and meaning. While existentialism champions the idea that one's decisions determine one's essense, absurdism asserts that the universe is indifferent to human life and that one's decisions are essentially useless. Meursault believes that the Arab's death was just another incident thrust upon him and that his decisions were pointless and that his destiny was predetermined. In the quote above, he explains that his fate cannot be altered because the "dark wind" has already "leveled whatever was offered to [him]" in that future state of being. In other words, any event in the future that Meursault could possibly experience was already destroyed and altered before he had a chance to witness its execution in present time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This quote is absolutely fascinating as it delineates the uselessness of finding meaning in the universe and in one's future, both of which being essential to absurdism. For the most part, these assertions are valid because one's future occurs only once as it passes the threshold into present time. All the events leading up to present time cannot change the outcome of one's future because one's past, present, and future are inevitably determined on their own accord. It reminds me of &lt;em&gt;Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban&lt;/em&gt; and when Harry goes back in time only to discover that he himself actually conjured the spell that would save his own life in the past. In other words, Harry had to save himself in the past because his present existence depended on itself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-4337336776825458578?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/4337336776825458578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=4337336776825458578' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4337336776825458578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/4337336776825458578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger_22.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Gary Kafer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08833612521633304708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tIeFZCAG5HY/Srl8Z2HnXtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/i8Bb92hiXo0/s72-c/north-wind-blowing-cold-and-snow-300x240.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-6767722813934462867</id><published>2009-09-21T21:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T21:04:22.362-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Poisionwood Bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://niterose.tersonodesign.com/images/despair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 768px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 512px" alt="" src="http://niterose.tersonodesign.com/images/despair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adah muses that the "Congo sprawls on the middle of the world. Sun rises, sum sets, six o'clock exactly. Everything that comes of morning undoes itself before nightfall: rooster walks back into forest, fires die down, birds coo-coo-coo, sun sinks away, sky bleeds, passes out, goes dark, nothing exists. Ashes to ashes" (Kingsolver 30). This profound stream of consciousness sheds light on what lies behind her silence. Adah's pattern of thought reveals that she is an observer, unlike the other members of her family. Her father, the preacher in all senses of the word, often overshadows Adah's pensive nature with his sermons of hell-fire and damnnation. While these outward expressions are, indeed, attention grabbing, it is Adah that holds some of the most widsom in the family. She does not seem to trifle with senseless things, like her sisters, and what she lacks in speech, she makes up in thought. The constant juxtoposition (i.e. sun rises, sun sets), as well as the onomotopoeia (i.e. birds coo-coo-coo) in her thoughts really allow one to get inside of her mind. Adah's preferred method of "stream of consciousness" speech is very similar to that of Faulkner in &lt;strong&gt;As I Lay Dying.&lt;/strong&gt; Adah's character is very much like Darl. She is introverted, misunderstood, and essentially brilliant. However brilliant she may be, she is overlooked by her family, and her Georgia society. In contrast to other characters, the Congo presents Adah with a sense of self-worth and comraderie. While the other members of her family are smited by the Congo personally, Adah is embraced.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-6767722813934462867?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/6767722813934462867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=6767722813934462867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6767722813934462867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/6767722813934462867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/poisionwood-bible.html' title='The Poisionwood Bible'/><author><name>Elizabeth Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00735128619683547941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-342125123150898467</id><published>2009-09-21T19:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T19:58:32.257-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Choice Book- The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CCFkTWi-5a0/SrgS07bIqzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/iym_UKvByUQ/s1600-h/blahhhhhh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 186px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384074055035431730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CCFkTWi-5a0/SrgS07bIqzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/iym_UKvByUQ/s200/blahhhhhh.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"...I often thought that if I had had to live in the trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowering overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it." (77) The Stranger, by Albert Camus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In this quote, Monseiur Meursault relates his time in jail to a saying his mother used to tell him. He looks up to the sky instead of believing in God and passes his time by focusing on his physical needs such as hunger and sleep. This quote is representative of Meursault's character throughout the entire novel. His thoughts slowly deteriorate into those of a prisoner and he loses all care for anything else. By saying that he could "have gotten used to it," he shows that he resigned all desires of freedom and let things happen as they came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I enjoy this quote becuase of its beautiful imagery. It is one of the only flowery quotes in the entire book. This picture reminded me of what Monsieur Meursault was describing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-342125123150898467?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/342125123150898467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=342125123150898467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/342125123150898467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/342125123150898467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/summer-choice-book-stranger.html' title='Summer Choice Book- The Stranger'/><author><name>Kelsey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15149369356191519899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CCFkTWi-5a0/SrgS07bIqzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/iym_UKvByUQ/s72-c/blahhhhhh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-8893273032828806714</id><published>2009-09-21T19:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T19:55:05.474-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poisonwood'/><title type='text'>Poisonwood Bible - DAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SrgR038yppI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L45gBRxhQO4/s1600-h/Poisonwood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384072954591225490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 253px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SrgR038yppI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L45gBRxhQO4/s200/Poisonwood.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Tata Jesus is bängala!” declares the Reverend every Sunday at the end of his&lt;br /&gt;sermon. More and more, mistrusting his interpreters, he tries to speak in&lt;br /&gt;Kikongo. He throws back his head and shouts these words to the sky, while his&lt;br /&gt;lambs sit scratching themselves in wonder. Bangala means something precious and&lt;br /&gt;dear. But the way he pronounces it, it means the poisonwood tree. Praise the&lt;br /&gt;Lord, hallelujah my friends! for Jesus will make you itch like nobody’s&lt;br /&gt;business. (276)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This quote portrays exactly why Nathaniel Price’s ill-fated mission to the Congo fails. Nathaniel was a wonderful, fiery preacher in America, where his profession was appreciated. That was his world. When he arrives in Kikongo, a completely different world, he is unable to assimilate. He is unwanted, unable to communicate to the people what he wants, and too stubborn to give up.&lt;br /&gt;Nathaniel Price is unfit to preach to the people of Kikongo. To the villagers, he is preaching nonsense. After all, who would want to get baptized in a river full of crocodiles? To them, Nathaniel’s offer of baptism is a death-threat. When Nathaniel becomes paranoid and mistrusts his interpreters, the people are even more mystified. After all, who would worship a god that makes you “itch like nobody’s business”? The more Nathaniel preaches, the more his being an alien within the community antagonizes him.&lt;br /&gt;This is a central theme in the novel, and is reinforced by his daughters. Nathaniel enjoyed his formative years in comfortable, understanding Georgia and cannot comprehend the Congo. Leah, who the most immersed in the African culture, is perfectly suited for the refugee life of the Congo, and feels uncomfortable upon returning to Georgia, where everything is easy and wasteful. Adah was formed in one instance: when her mother abandoned her to save Ruth May. This made her cynical and mistrusting in college. Rachel is perhaps the most entertaining of characters, and she too lives in a community suited to her: a hotel all about her beauty, an isolated island without thought of the world around her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-8893273032828806714?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/8893273032828806714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=8893273032828806714' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8893273032828806714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/8893273032828806714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/poisonwood-bible-dal.html' title='Poisonwood Bible - DAL'/><author><name>David L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08381512993453832963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SskaU32WF0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/vmgxX9Gunjc/S220/Me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fPrVUNKN3iE/SrgR038yppI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L45gBRxhQO4/s72-c/Poisonwood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5073917680584668555</id><published>2009-09-21T13:46:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T23:02:07.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/Srg-I3RsTxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/rosDD5a3E8g/s1600-h/debtors_prison_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384121676519460626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/Srg-I3RsTxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/rosDD5a3E8g/s320/debtors_prison_3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Since we are all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter."&lt;br /&gt;-pg. 114 Albert Camus &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The Stranger &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This quote demonstrates the main character's, Meursault, indifference to life and even death. During his time spent in jail, he kept thinking that he would eventually get out and didn't even think of the possibility of being put to death. However, once he was condemned to be executed. He use to spend his time, wondering about how he could escape, if that was even possible, and dreading dawn because according to him, that's when the executions takes place. As time progressed, Meursault realized that worrying about his death was pointless. In this book, Camus demonstrates the absurdity of human life and even human death. Whether we die now or in thirty years, we will all die at one point in time. Some might die sooner than others while others might live longer. But in the end, worrying about the inevitable is pointless. As for our life on this Earth, it is of little consquence; it is but a blimp on the radar. When we die, thousands of other people continue on with their lives; without little consquence about our death. Meursault viewed life as having little consquence. He could never find joy out of life; only through physical acts could he feel alive. Unlike other novels, where the character feels the need to search for a meaning in life, Meursault feels completely content with his life and his indifference towards everything. It is absurd to believe that people have so little emotion over death. Even when it came to his own mother's death, he could not muster up the emotion to even feel sad. Camus's character portrays the absurdity of human life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5073917680584668555?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5073917680584668555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5073917680584668555' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5073917680584668555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5073917680584668555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/stranger.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Emily S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01631746099012806632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3X5Ovvcu98s/Srg-I3RsTxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/rosDD5a3E8g/s72-c/debtors_prison_3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-5678149021121954556</id><published>2009-09-18T10:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T10:11:05.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorable Quotes from Choice Multi-Cultural Books</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Hi everyone!&amp;nbsp; This blogging will be a bit different.&amp;nbsp; You are going to post a memorable quote from your summer choice books (you decide what makes it memorable) and then analyze the quote to justify its memorability.&amp;nbsp; You should also include a photo (you would use the photo icon above) to provide a graphic for your quote.&amp;nbsp; This posting will be due a week from today (by midnight Friday, September 25th).&amp;nbsp; We will decide upon assignments for students taking over the blogging sometime next week.&amp;nbsp; I still have to figure out how all this will work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUHD2DboI/AAAAAAAAAB0/JAlV_kWXpdE/s1600-h/poisonwood+bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUHD2DboI/AAAAAAAAAB0/JAlV_kWXpdE/s200/poisonwood+bible.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUMXJmmiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/U0JOIauU7Pk/s1600-h/the-stranger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUMXJmmiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/U0JOIauU7Pk/s200/the-stranger.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUUyOmKZI/AAAAAAAAACE/83ch0KerikE/s1600-h/Rosencrantz+and+Guildenstern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUUyOmKZI/AAAAAAAAACE/83ch0KerikE/s200/Rosencrantz+and+Guildenstern.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUfrmMLUI/AAAAAAAAACM/rEvcOPdb7kY/s1600-h/bless+me+ultima+pix.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUfrmMLUI/AAAAAAAAACM/rEvcOPdb7kY/s200/bless+me+ultima+pix.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-5678149021121954556?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/5678149021121954556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=5678149021121954556' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5678149021121954556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/5678149021121954556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/memorable-quotes-from-choice-multi.html' title='Memorable Quotes from Choice Multi-Cultural Books'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrOUHD2DboI/AAAAAAAAAB0/JAlV_kWXpdE/s72-c/poisonwood+bible.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1359769696504198098</id><published>2009-09-17T15:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T15:48:27.285-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote by Kafka</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;Kafka once said:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="body" style="color: purple;"&gt;How pathetically scanty my self-knowledge is compared with, say, my knowledge of my room. There is no such thing as observation of the inner world, as there is of the outer world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="body" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKSef_Z_KI/AAAAAAAAABk/mArjVy5vcjE/s1600-h/edward_hopper_empty_room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKSef_Z_KI/AAAAAAAAABk/mArjVy5vcjE/s320/edward_hopper_empty_room.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="body" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Relate this quote to &lt;i&gt;Metamorphosis &lt;/i&gt;specifically and/or to the concepts underlying existentialism and surrealism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1359769696504198098?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1359769696504198098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1359769696504198098' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1359769696504198098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1359769696504198098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/quote-by-kafka.html' title='Quote by Kafka'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKSef_Z_KI/AAAAAAAAABk/mArjVy5vcjE/s72-c/edward_hopper_empty_room.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-79760051213907165</id><published>2009-09-17T15:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T15:43:50.100-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Folktales, Fables, and The Metamorphosis</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKRaD00zyI/AAAAAAAAABc/y5bZ8oV52bg/s1600-h/folktales_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKRaD00zyI/AAAAAAAAABc/y5bZ8oV52bg/s320/folktales_1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0c343d;"&gt;Many folktales and fables delve into the theme of transformations or have animals as central characters.&amp;nbsp; How does Kafka's modern story differ form these works?&amp;nbsp; Be sure to give give specific examples that transcend the obvious in your evaluation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-79760051213907165?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/79760051213907165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=79760051213907165' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/79760051213907165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/79760051213907165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/folktales-fables-and-metamorphosis.html' title='Folktales, Fables, and The Metamorphosis'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SrKRaD00zyI/AAAAAAAAABc/y5bZ8oV52bg/s72-c/folktales_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1511233933095834916</id><published>2009-09-10T10:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T13:58:09.202-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Metamorphosis by Kafka and Existentialism</title><content type='html'>Kierkgaard, one of the fathers of existentialism, once said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #674ea7;"&gt;I stick my fingers into existence - it smells nothing.&amp;nbsp; Where am I?&amp;nbsp; What is a thing called&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #674ea7;"&gt;the world?&amp;nbsp; Who it is that lured me into the thing and now leaves me here?&amp;nbsp; How did I come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #674ea7;"&gt;into the world?&amp;nbsp; Why was I not consulted?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #674ea7;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Existentialism is a philosophical movement of the 19th century that portrays the stress on individual existence and, consequently, on subjectivity, individual freedom, and choice.&amp;nbsp; What you are (your essence) is the result of your your choices (your existence) rather than the other way around. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SqkIeKOhToI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qIIJSCCgH_4/s1600-h/kafka-drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SqkIeKOhToI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qIIJSCCgH_4/s320/kafka-drawing.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #674ea7;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Using the quote as a springboard and your knowledge of existentialism, discuss how Kafka's Metamorphosis exemplifies the inherent concepts of existentialism.&amp;nbsp; Provide quotes and/or specific evidence from the novella to support your arguments. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1511233933095834916?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1511233933095834916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1511233933095834916' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1511233933095834916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1511233933095834916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/09/metamorphosis-by-kafka-and.html' title='Metamorphosis by Kafka and Existentialism'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Ofa1wwqUio/SqkIeKOhToI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qIIJSCCgH_4/s72-c/kafka-drawing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5588998595646800556.post-1099178442546550169</id><published>2009-08-05T13:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T12:58:21.449-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Their Eyes Were Watching God - Quote Analysis</title><content type='html'>Use details from the novel to explain what the quote reveals about Janie's search for fulfillment. "Nanny: "De nigger woman is de mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see. Ah been prayin' fuh it tuh be different wid you. Lawd, Lawd, Lawd!"(29). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once this quote has been "analyzed to death" suggest a new quote that addresses this same theme.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5588998595646800556-1099178442546550169?l=maurnoaplit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/feeds/1099178442546550169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5588998595646800556&amp;postID=1099178442546550169' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1099178442546550169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5588998595646800556/posts/default/1099178442546550169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maurnoaplit.blogspot.com/2009/08/their-eyes-were-watching-god-quote.html' title='Their Eyes Were Watching God - Quote Analysis'/><author><name>Mrs. Maurno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14765722273971447429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry></feed>
