I read the next line, “And the ship sailed onward, gliding serenely down the moonlit river toward the dark lands beyond.” I knew the book had ended, yet I looked to see if the next page had another chapter. Suddenly, I shed an actual tear, which I thought silly at the time. I had never felt so strongly about an ending before. This summer, I read the Inheritance series by Christopher Paolini again and, I found myself uncontrollably shedding another tear at the end of the last book, Inheritance. The first tear had been a tear of sorrow for the end of an epic. However, this last tear was one of joy. Just recently, the author had announced another book I the same chronology was coming soon. I was excited to meet all my favorite characters again.
The ending of the novel was inspiring. The author suggests the reader to look into great novels, and even supplies a list of novels a personally suggests. He ended with a very ...
Some of the captain?s crew began to regret their situation and even the captain had some anxious thoughts. They realized that it could be a dead end. They were uncertain where to go and of their situation. Suddenly, they noticed something was passing by them at a distance of half a mile. ? We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, passing towards the north.?
As the sound of the announcer calling our team roughly breaks the calm silence of the busy Ann Arbor lake, the light click of our oar locks can be heard as the four of us squares our blades in the green-blue water together. In the shallow water, the sight of brown algae snaking along the bottom and the peeling black and yellow paint on the end of our oars welcomes our eyes. We sit relaxed in the black carbon fiber shell of the Camilla, our sharp eyes analyzing every movement of the other boats while the sun’s scorching rays beat down on our tan shoulders and the reflective surface of the still lake. As we wait for the race to begin, the aroma
The first thing to see, looking away over the water, was a kind of dull line - that was the woods on t'other side; you couldn't make nothing else out; then a pale place in the sky; then more paleness spreading around; then the river softened up away off, and warn't black any more, but gray; you could see little dark spots drifting along ever so far away-trading-scows, and such things; and long black streaks-rafts ... and by and by you could see a streak on the water which you know by the look of the streak that there's a snag there in a swift current which breaks on it and makes that streak look that way; and you see the mist curl up off of the water, and the east reddens up.
My family... What can I say? I want to legally change my name to Torres.
When John and I first meet Mr.Pignati, we had a combination of emotions. Surprised at how happy and jolly he was, and scared out of our wits that he was going to murder us with a knife,or poison us with wine.
From a young age, I was very curious. Curiosity caused my mind to see everything from a different perspective than most. I saw what could be improved and how I could improve. For example, when it came to editing movies, I was always able to see what could how it could have been better or I questioned how they had created it. My curiosity led me to try many different activities throughout high school, such as film camps, stage managing for plays, yearbook, and even creating videos for Rochester High School’s awards day. Finally, my junior year, I decided it was time I made films of my own for competitions. I wanted to have something that I could call my own. When it came to the two films I did for contests, I was there throughout the whole process.
For my project, I interviewed many different people of all different ages. My Grandpa, Vern, born in 1942, remembers most of the cold war. Our family friend, Terry Markuly, was born in 1950 and she also remembers most of the Cold War events. My Uncle and my Mom, both born in 1967, do not remember many of the big Cold War events such as the Cuban Missile Crisis, but they still have memories of the events that they were alive for. Vern lived in Wisconsin for the entire war and still lives there to this day and my Mom also lived in Wisconsin for the entire war, except for two brief periods right after the war where she lived near Berlin. Both Terry and my Uncle also resided in the Midwest for most of the war, but Terry lived in St. Louis, Missouri and my Uncle lived in Indiana. Their experiences were different with each event and place but there were also many similarities among their experiences.
The Last Guardian was one of the most anticipated games of the decade for PlayStation gamers across the world. Having waited 10+ years for the spiritual successor to Shadow of the Colossus, many had there hopes set high. Unfortunately it also proved to be one of the biggest disappointments of this console generation. If you haven't played or heard of The Last Guardian I encourage you to explore the games Metacritic. There you'll find many widely varying reviews (I recommend Marty Sliva's or Jim Sterling's which is appropriately titled 'Beast Of Burden').
All squeezed in the back of our red minivan with ´I Need To Know’ by Mark Anthony playing on the radio, my childhood took a halt. I was only three years old, but that rainy fall day in October would forever be remembered.
My brother and I were at the Bronx Public Library with a few of my brother’s friends. The library was located right in the heart of the town, overlooking The Coachman’s Inn, which happened to be my mother’s workplace. The dirty, graffitied, cream bricks of the library gave off a sketchy vibe. The librarians were the meanest people you could meet. They were always yelling at us for making too much noise, even when we weren't making a sound. I was wearing my white polo shirt and my navy blue skirt; my brother wearing his light blue polo shirt and his creme khaki pants.
Many days aren’t too different from other people in high school. I wake up, wish for more sleep, go to class, learn, come home, do homework, sleep, repeat. Other days, I’m not so lucky. I call those days my dark days. The days where the darkness consumes the lightest parts of me, leaving only enough room for negativity. Take last month for example, when I relapsed after being okay for 6 months. I sobbed constantly, for reasons not even my mother could understand. I felt like the world was heavier and darker. I was straining under the weight of the monster again.
Freshman year was when asked the age old question: what do I want to do with the rest of my life? For most students my age, this undeniable thought can bring feelings of uneasiness. However, for me, this decision was met with open arms and a positive attitude. Photography is not just some hobby or a talent for me, but a vital part of my identity. Just the same as an athlete dedicating themselves to their sport, I rely on my camera as an essential part of my lifestyle. There is never a place that I will go without a camera tucked neatly inside my bag; never a shot that is not worth taking. It was not long until I found myself as the main event photographer of the biggest music festival in South Jersey. While the students my age dreamed of winning the big game or seeing themselves in a particular field, I was already achieving my dreams and making them a reality.
When you live in a sheltered household and go to a strict Christian based private school, there are some subjects that aren’t taught to the full extent sp you wouldn't be aware of the negative aspects of the actions and/or words that are said to you. Growing up, there are some words and sayings that you can keep or just let it fly past you. But for some reason, there was a word that had stayed with me for a long time and it wasn't until I was eighteen, taking a class at the time when I lived there to realize it’s meaning.
“The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.” (96)