Stealing
The mottled white brick I stare at bears no resemblance to the view I had prior to this audacious imposition. If only I had resisted the temptation and not have allowed myself to be coaxed in by the thin, twiggy arm that beckoned me towards its icy embrace.
How could I allow this?
Just as my eyelids grow heavy, my consciousness forces me to remain alert and continue to stare out into the dim chamber of animosity. Confinement can be utterly beautiful; a prison cell, on the contrary, was the ugliest expression of minimal. Even the reality of the matter overcame me hours ago. Currently, I’m contemplating whether or not my actions were worth a criminal record… or if assaulting a snowman is worth police time? It was barely vandalism,
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It didn’t even have a seat and the fractured porcelain was mustard in colour to hinting at its age. My only distraction is the crippling sensation that clenches my stomach whenever I hear the biting hiss of the Velcro mattress clawing my tatty shirt. Curiously, my fingertips graze over the material, feeling each tiny fibre abrade my fingerprint away. As I throw my head back against the wall behind me, I feel the white paint crackle beneath my touch. It clutches onto the wall as desperately as it can before my index finger cruelly tears it away. The white flakes collapsing onto the mattress; the flakes do not melt, however. Much like the frosty imposter than beckoned me that …show more content…
The tape rolled and I found my feet wedged back into the blanket of snow, brows furrowed and taut – staring.
My toes were numb and my red fingers quivered as the snowflakes caked my lashes. It blurred my vision, not that it made a difference: the white flecks had obscured the sight of anything ahead of me and each deposit of snow pricked my rosy cheeks like an iced pin. The snowmen stood in a regimented line, stick arms saluting Mother Nature. One particular snowman figure stubbornly refused to melt like its watery brethren. I grimaced ever so slightly. It was like the piercing black orbs clocked my stance as if to mock me, its crooked ochre nose upturned in disgust at me.
In spite of the bludgeoning snowfall, my feet pounded the ground angrily, feeling every little flake’s bones crunch as the studs of my boots stabbed into them. In that moment, I promised myself that the fire of my fury would melt this icy villain.
Its provoking stance and sullen expression had me facing him in moments and I simply watched the dark pebbles stitched into his face steal the spark of the sunlight. I stared on and all I received was the same insulting
“Winter Evening” by Archibald Lampman, and “Stories of Snow” by P.K Page are two poems describing the human experience of winter. Winter is seen, by some, to be blissful, magical and serene. Winter could also be described as pure and heavenly, with the white snow resembling clouds. However, others have a contrasting viewpoint; they paint winter in harsher light, giving the impression that winter is bitter and ruthless. Others still, have a mixed viewpoint and may recognize both the positives and negatives to the season.
“The plagiarists Tale” is an article about Quentin Rowan a man that went by the pen name Q. R. Markham. He wrote “assassin of secrets” a spy novel, after the publication of the novel James Bond fans found many similarities between the two. After further investigation results showed Quentin has plagiarized using many different novels as example. After word got out to the public the publishing company was infuriated and instantly took the novel off bookstore shelves. He said “I wish I could do it all over” he regretted everything he did. Quentin faced his consequences and is currently having a problem finding work.
And this is where we start with our image. Then Oliver adds, “began here this morning and all day” (2-3) which immediately changes your image to this beginning of the day where the snow is only just starting to fall. Also, Oliver seems to personify the snow by saying “it’s white rhetoric everywhere”(4-5) by giving the sense of knowledge to the snow. Oliver is showing this knowledge that the snow has by playing with this word “rhetoric” meaning having the art of persuasive speaking, so it shows how this snow is grabbing our attention. And then it continues with “calling us back to why, how, whence such beauty and what the meaning;” (6-8) this changes your image of snow greatly to making you think of snow as a greater power leading you to seek questions. This is an automatic change from snow to self. Then it transitions back to the focus back on snow, “flowing past windows,” (9-10) and you are then again transferred back to this image of snow fluttering through the wind, but you also have your thoughts of the unknown and you are relating it to the snow all of this unknown is just floating
’[16] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Guterson, David, Snow Falling on Cedars, 1994, pp 367. [2] Ibid. , pp. 107.
The book, Other People’s Words: What Plagiarism Is and How to Avoid it, has taught me many things about plagiarism. Some of the things this book taught me are the definition and some ways to avoid plagiarism.
One instance in which ice and snow reveals deeper meaning can be found within the struggle between nature and the protagonist of “Hunters in the Snow.” Tub this particular type of conflict is commonly known as “man versus nature,” and characterizes Tub’s experience
If anything is held to the highest value in any array of schools, it is a policy against plagiarism. Academics understand the severity that plagiarism can hold, especially since many of them tend to do it to each other. In 2005, Melissa Elias, who was at the time the President of the Madison School Board, gave a commencement speech that had several sections that were plagiarized from a speech Anna Quindlen, a Pulitzer Prize winner author, had given to Mount Holyoke in 1999. Kaavya Viswanathan, a Harvard University Sophomore, had published a book with several portions of copied from works of four different authors. Individuals held at high academic expectations committed both of these incidents, one being the president of a school and the other being a student of an Ivy League University. However, despite their valor in academia they both plagiarized, the only difference being that Viswanathan was getting royalties for her act of plagiarism. One has to question whether there really is a difference between these two cases, because both individuals clearly intentionally plagiarized. When handling cases of plagiarism one has to be extremely cautious due to the various degrees of plagiarism that depend on the individual’s intentionality and regards to profit.
In Julia Alvarez’s short story, “Snow,” an immigrant student, named Yolanda is learning the American way of doing things. She learns that there is ugly and hatful war going on in the world around her. Sister Zoe, Yolanda’s catholic school teacher, explains to her and her classmates what a bomb is; a mushroom shaped explosion with white specks of dust filling the air. However, when Yolanda sees actual winter snow for the first time, she confuses this snow as bomb dust. After Sister Zoe explains that this is snow that Yolanda is seeing, and not a bomb, Yolanda realizes that snow, unlike a bomb can be a beautiful thing to witness. Julia Alvarez’s last sentence of her short story epitomizes the true meaning of snow, and how it can represent human beings. Julia Alvarez writes, “Each flake was different, Sister Zoe had said, like a person, irreplaceable and beautiful.” Key words from this sentence are, “flake,” “different,” “person,” “irreplaceable,” and “beautiful.”
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
Three inches of fresh snow fell last night, creating a blanket of freshness that reflects the last rays of moonlight. As we drive into our property we see fresh deer tracks and my heart starts pumping, I have been away from Wisconsin for a few months and this morning is the first time I entered these woods since September. A few hundred yards into the woods we jump three deer walking the road. They bound off into the darkness in flashes of brown silhouetted by snow. We park...
One aspect of the creative industry that has remained the same throughout generations is the difficulty for artists to inject their work into popular culture. Utopian Plagiarism, Hypertextuality, and Electronic Cultural Production by Critical Art Ensemble (CAE) written in 1991 argues that “The Video revolution failed for two reasons – a lack of access and an absence of desire” (99) while artists from the documentary Press. Pause. Play. point out how easy access is to creative technology. The artists from PPP point out that it is much more difficult for good work to breakthrough into popular culture because there is so much of it. Comparing the arguments by CAE with the ideas in PPP reveals that artists breaking through into popular culture has always been difficult, but it is difficult today for different reasons than it used to be. For this reason, quality plagiarism is essential in the creative industry.
The snow that was predicted to be several inches by the end of the weekend quickly piled up to around eight inches by that evening. At times, the snow was falling so heavily you could hardly see the streetlights that glistened like beacons in a sea of snow. With the landscape draped in white, the trees hangi...
“The Snow Man,” by Wallace Stevens, dramatizes a metaphorical “mind of winter”, and introduces the idea that one must have a certain mindset in order to correctly perceive reality. The poet, or rather the Snow Man, is an interpreter of simple and ordinary things; “A cold wind, without interpretation, has no misery” (Poetry Genius). Through the use of imageries and metaphors relating to both wintery landscapes and the Snow Man itself, Stevens illustrates different ideas of human objectivity and the abstract concept of true nothingness. Looking through the eyes of the Snow Man, the readers are given an opportunity to perceive a reality that is free from objectivity; The Snow Man makes it clear that winter can possess qualities of beauty and also emptiness: both “natural wonder, and human misery”. He implies that winter can also be nothing at all: “just a bunch of solid water, dormant plants, and moving air.” (The Wondering Minstrels). “One must
captive by a sheath of frost, as were the glacial branches that scraped at my windows, begging to get in. It is indeed the coldest year I can remember, with winds like barbs that caught and pulled at my skin. People ceaselessly searched for warmth, but my family found that this year, the warmth was searching for us.