Good morning people of Salem, as most of you already know I am Reverend John Hale. Minister Paris ordered me to come hastefully to this town to investigate the cry of witchcraft in Salem. I found these girls to be witches but I am profound to say that this is false and just as Mr. Proctor stated before he was named upon the gallows, that Abigail told him it had naught to do with witchcraft and he was prepared to give up his good name as he thought of her softly. I ask you to clean John Proctor’s blackened name as he was a righteous man. He condemned himself when he said his wife be one that cannot lie.
The cold sensation of murky ground slowly but surely switched from soil to smooth stone, the flatness of it being significantly easier on Jack 's feet as he moved away from the entrance and further into Pitch 's lair. Emptiness hung in the air, silent if not for the creaking of lead cages. With his eyes flicking between the cages, stairwells, and the bright glittering globe in the center, Jack comes to the conclusion that the place might feel emptier more because of the lack of teeth canisters than anything else. "You thought everything would be all right, now that the darkness has subsided. Centuries of loneliness, gone.
"Damnit, Johnny… Oh damnit, Johnny, don 't die, please don 't die." Johnny was the main reason I was still alive. Call him my life tank or whatever but it was the truth. I was proud of him and I never could tell him.
Lost in limbo, these spirits cannot rest without justice. With no place to go, their ghostly presence can be felt in the darkest shadows of the desert. And their hungry gaze void of life, is fixated on the only place they've ever called home, the oasis.
Candy Seeing Beau lay dead on the lawn of Mathu’s house, I knew this wouldn’t end well. I thought that Mathu killed him but I wasn’t going to let any punishments happen to him. He and Mrs Merle raised me since my parents died. They taught me most of what I know so I wasn’t gonna let anyone touch that man.
In the memoir, “A Long Way Gone,” by Ishmael Beah, the author’s natural imagery reveals his struggle to keep hope alive as he watches his family and country fall apart. Specifically, after walking two straight days without sleeping, Beah claims that, “Even the air seemed to want to attack me and break my neck” (49). Obviously, Beah is beginning to feel as if everything is out to hurt him, as violence is spreading all across his homeland of Sierra Leone. Nature is usually meant to be welcoming, but as Beah is struggling to survive day to day and find food in constant fear of the Rebels, even something like wind can start to feel hostile. Additionally, on the third day of wandering in search of a village, in a forest so thick the sky is barely
That boy Jean Finch had destroyed my flowers for the horrible things I said about his father and maybe I deserved it but those flowers were so young so full of light so natural I just wanted to be like them. They were my motivation to stop taking the morphine. He had dragged himself all the way down to my house to apologize. I want anywhere near nice to him i wouldn’t let him see my suffering.
The dull air in the morning with the strange lights, the eerie silence of the noon, and strange yet normal creatures and voices of the night. People believe this ghost of a town to be the line between insanity and reality, things seen here are normal to the people of the town, but to outsiders it 's unexplainable. So I advise you to be aware of your surrounding when reading because something to your dismay, just might be lurking in the shadows.
It was always worth a shot with Frankie. He could never get enough out of her when he teased her, but he did often catch those smirks that did make him chuckle ever so slightly. He gave a shrug and mumbled, "Well aren't you the party pooper of the hour. Bad actress my ass. " The whole gentlemanly fashion went down the drain with no effort and he was back to just being Chris.
'Mum, Dad, I'm sorry.... You wish I'd say something like this before my death? Too bad for you! I'm not giving you the pleasure.'
Changing shape in the sky above, the cumulus clouds, the cotton balls of the sky, cast shadows over the water. In a cloud of their own, dragonflies hover and jut,
The poem, written by Sara Teasdale, was written as a response to World War I. The poem’s main theme is the idea that nature will always outlast humanity.
Great umber and vermillion-tainted clouds heaved upward by the summer winds that rolled across the prairies. The tepid air pushed by lazy gusts crept up behind my back and took me to that place where faded memories turn in restless sleep. My path then snaked its way around a gentle bend and then my heart began to sadden as I gazed upon the village that had changed my life so much. To die – at least that person that had long abandoned me had somehow gone astray and left me now a broken man. Long ago that solitary sole had disappeared as the ravens gathered and prepared to fly.
That reconnection with nature will renew the world for us. The speaker in the next stanzas reflects how he has lost this connection, as his “afflictions bow me down to the earth” (82) and his “viper thoughts” have stolen his “shaping spirit of Imagination” (86). Coleridge speaks of the wind’s inability to raise him out of his
It was a cold crisp morning, the sun climbed the tree tops and showed it’s beautiful colors. The water shimmered and shined just like a glass mirror sitting in the hot summer sun. The birds chirped out songs, every note was perfect and in tune. The water bugs danced on the water, they almost looked like figure skaters as they twisted and made sharp turns. An eagle flew by searching for food as her young chicks cried, they were hungry.
