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Revenge in literature throughout time
Revenge literature
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Recommended: Revenge in literature throughout time
Alen pulled the trigger of his shotgun; the blast reverberated around the narrow, rocky pass, drowning out the final whimper of his prone foe. "Alen the Merciful." Grumbled Slate. "Boy, you've seen the way these lunatics leave our people; quick death too good for 'em." "Lay off, Slate." Alen was tied, to tied for the constant bickering from his old companion. He'd heard it non-stop on their two and a half day journey to catch up to the raiders that had pillaged their sleepy, little town three night ago. To catch up with them, Alen and Slate had taken turns driving and sleeping. They'd managed to get ahead of the raiders in the hills, and decided to set an ambush in a narrow pass. The one thing Alen and Slate agreed on was that two against nine
“I want to throw things at them. I want to scream: Why weren’t you here last night? Why didn’t you save my family?”(221)
Forbidden Fruit in Holy Feast and Holy Fast and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Silentio thoroughly dissects and explains what it means to be a knight of faith in Fear and Trembling. After reading his philosophy on the topic of faith, a clear outline is given for being a true knight of faith rather than being a knight of infinite resignation. Using this outline it can be seen that Dora Tajada, a mother who killed her daughter on the island of Nantucket, is in fact a knight of faith, due to how unexplainable her actions are to others in the ethical world by her suspension of it, her absolute devotion to God, and how she showed the specific differences between a knight of faith and one of infinite resignation, all of which is required by a knight of faith, with Abraham being whom Silentio considers the perfect example.
“I had often before this said that if the Indians should come I should choose rather to be killed by them than taken alive, but when came to the trial, my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my spirits that I chose rather to go along with those (as I may say) ravenous beasts than that moment to end my days. And that I may the better declare what happened to me during the grievous captivity, I shall particularly speak of the several removes we had up and down the wilderness. . . .”(69).
“If we must die, let not be like hogs hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, while round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, making their mock at our accursed lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we deft Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! We must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!”
As a ship is without a sail or a king with no castle, so too is a courtier without a Court lady. In "The Book of the Courtier" Baldesar Castiglione not only included a perfect courtier, he also molded his female equivalent, a Court lady. "The Courtier" itself was a step by step guide intended to instruct the young, affluent and upwardly mobile in areas of manners, learning, sport and conduct. It was published in 1528, at a high point of humanistic thought and antiquarian chivalric interest in Renaissance Italy. Often overlooked or undervalued is the discussion of the ideal Court lady, described in eloquent and perfect detail by the characters of Caesar and Magnifico, who was assigned by the Duchess to create "such a woman that these adversaries of ours [Gaspare and Ottaviano] will be ashamed to deny that she is equal in worth to the courtier."
Hamlet, one of the most complex and dramatic characters to ever cross the theater is known as the crestfallen prince that enraptures the audience with his elegant intensity throughout the concord of acts. The intricate and profound life of Hamlet is by far Shakespeare’s most popular and powerful piece he ever created. The story begins on a dark winter night on the ramparts of the Elsinore Castle in Denmark when a ghost appears, who resembled the deceased King Hamlet. Claudius overthrew the throne by murdering King Hamlet and marrying his brother’s wife Gertrude. The apparition later spoke to Hamlet and showed his son that his Uncle Claudius had murdered him by slipping poisoning through his ear and declared that Hamlet must avenge his death. A group of actors traveling through Denmark reenact the murder of his father. Hamlet has been acting as though he has gone mad and goes to speak with his mother later that night to confront her with her sins of incest that she has committed which leads to the death of the eavesdropping snoop Polonius. In the aftermath of Polonius’s death, Ophelia goes mad with grief and sorrow and commits suicide by drowning herself in the river. Hamlet is told to leave the country and boldly aborts a mission set up by Claudius for him to be killed upon arrival in England. A sword fight breaks out amongst the men which later lead to the death of the entire royal family. At this moment Fortinbras, the Prince of Norway, sees the family lying on floor dead and decides to take power over the kingdom for himself.
Soldiers that were captured at the end of a battle were chained to one another a...
From the cover of the juniper trees Duvall watched the wranglers move a steady string of cattle in and out of the corral. If he wanted to get closer he could, but for now, he’d bide his time. In front of him, twin boulders provided the perfect cover. They were tightly wedged, but there was enough room to still slip his rifle barrel between them, make his shot, and leave unnoticed. He would have to walk a ways. To avoid the chance of someone stumbling upon him, he’d left his horse far outside the canyon.
“Then the disciples came and said to him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” And he answered them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to him who has more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” (Matthew 13:10-12)
We walked into the school grabbing our cases from the truck and the buses. I walked into the building with the rest of the band. Moments have passed before it was our time to go on stage. My heart was pounding and it felt like my legs would give out any second. We went out in front of the audience, standing in front of our seats waiting for our cue to sit down. A few moments later we started our first song. It went as great as could have. Now it was time for “The Witch and the Saint”. It was time to play the piece that I’ve been waiting on since we received it. It’s time. All of our hard work was about to pay off. This was our time to shine. It was our time to show everyone that we aren’t just an opening act to symphonic band. Our band was
With a nod, both rode off quickly, urging the men to an even faster pace. Gashard’s army had advanced quickly and most had already entered the forest of Catahclisum. They had cut the time of encounter in half and Duke Gashard, pleased with their time, could hardly wait to get his hands on Lord Nightburn. After all the years, he now would have his revenge. Gashard’s first lieutenant rode up quickly to settle in beside him, speaking quickly and obviously upset, “My Lord, the forest is a trap. My men have spotted archers all around us. We should withdraw.”
Holy Sleeper is located in a small city with vast land and a population of less than a thousand. It’s an often visited cemetery from people who travel hundreds of miles just to visit and the ideal place to be sent to when dead. Rows upon rows of headstones and gravestones which once used to shine under the sun, but soon became dull after years of silence. Some were dated all the way back to the beginning of the twentieth century. Every once in a while came a single person or a group with faces holding frowns or tight muscles and tears which spilled no matter how much they didn’t want it to. No one pried in each other’s business. There were no screaming curses at the sky like in the movies unless it was an old person soon to die themselves every once in a while. The children ran up and down the hill laughing, their parents too tired to scold them due to the heavy guilt burdening their back. There were red rose petals scattered around some or mixed flowers bundled together which were sold on the edges of the freeway about a mile away from the entrance gates. Others were artificial plants showing their life lasting dedication to the person’s sentimental mindset, or how they make up their inability to come back and visit in the future.
“Click, click, click.” The buckles smack the boots of each British soldier owning them as they stomp by in clusters. I grip Beth’s small hand tighter and the dirt kicks up under my small felt heels as I swiftly move across the square. My arm soon gets heavy, however, so I let go of Beth and hold the box of raspberry tea in both hands. I glance over to make sure Beth is out of harm’s way and see more red coats atop horses. My mouth turns downward and I snarl at the men marching through town. I turn away just as Beth pipes up,
My eyes burned with dust. Red clouds of it blew up around me swirling in the air. "Get up"! screamed a harsh voice. "How many times are we going to have to go through this. Everyday you start on one side of the hurdle and never make it to the other" the director yelled at me. I knew that if I didn't get u p now she would pull me up. I stood and dusted my self off. I came out of the dust cloud to see my director glaring at me with dark , harsh eyes. " I will see you again tomorrow t o continue practice" she said never releasing her stone hard glare. She spun around with a flip of her dark curly hair and walked away.9/6/16