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Recommended: Essay:perception
Everything (he kept saying) is something it isn't. And everybody is always somewhere else. Maybe it was the city, being in the city, that made him feel how queer everything was and that it was something else. Maybe (he kept thinking) it was the names of the things. The names were tex and frequently koid. Or they were flex and oid or they were duroid (sand) or flexsan (duro), but everything was glass (but not quite glass) and the thing that you touched (the surface, washable, crease-resistant) was rubber, only it wasn't quite rubber and you didn't quite touch it but almost. The wall, which was glass but turned out on being approached not to be a wall, it was something else, it was an opening or doorway--and the doorway (through which he saw himself approaching) turned out to be something else, it was a wall. And what he had eaten not having agreed with him.
He was in a washable house, but he wasn't sure. Now about those rats, he kept saying to himself. He meant the rats that the Professor had driven crazy by forcing them to deal with problems which were beyond the scope of rats, the insoluble problems. He meant the rats that had been trained to jump at the square card with the circle in the middle, and the card (because it was something it wasn't) would give way and let the rat into a place where the food was, but then one day it would be a trick played on the rat, and the card would be changed, and the rat would jump but the card wouldn't give way, and it was an impossible situation (for a rat) and the rat would go insane and into its eyes would come the unspeakably bright imploring look of the frustrated, and after the convulsions were over and the frantic racing around, then the passive stage would set in and the willingness to let anything be done to it, even if it was something else.
He didn't know which door (or wall) or opening in the house to jump at, to get through, because one was an opening that wasn't a door (it was a void, or kid) and the other was a wall that wasn't an opening, it was a sanitary cupboard of the same color. He caught a glimpse of his eyes staring into his eyes, in the and in them was the expression he had seen in the picture of the rats--weary after convulsions and the frantic racing around, when they were willing and did not mind having
-Sensory imagery is used in this quote to describe the Subway station briefly, as Guy runs through it to get to Faber's house quickly.
The dozens of dirty rats, the masses of maggots, the decaying body, cloaked in the odor of it’s own feces. The sounds also add to the nightmarish sounds as well. The skittering and squeaking of rats, the deafening buzzing of flies, the grotesque squirming of maggots. Everything works together to support the claim. By the end of the chapter, the tone has changed to a feeling of calm. The chapter until now has been violent and dark, every sentence inflicting more and more pain upon the narrated. But in this part of the story, the author states that the narrated heard “...A velvety blackness that rebounds from side to side, and then wraps around him gently as he slides to the floor at the wall, a spot that now feels safe and his own. With his back comforted by the wall, he draws his knees up to his ribs and lingers with his thoughts as he drifts off towards sleep.” (Toth 9). This quote induces images of a big, empty space. The scene that the author paints is serene. Without people or obstacles or dangers, but a space that belongs to the narrated alone. The phrase “safe and his own,” really helps to give off that
Recalling the similarities and differences of the house and occupants from the present to the past 1) the general structure of the house. 2) The fact that the stranger had a mother, a father, and a sister, and 3) where the strangers father and the current father sat for dinner. Out of all the differences brought up, the appearance of the house from the strangers memory seems to be the most noteworthy. For example the stranger stated “dark by day, dark by night” (Oates 327) probably due to the gloomy circumstances of his childhood. The stranger soon becomes distressed and agitated in the house which we find out is due to his fathers abusive nature. One moment in particular when memories started rushing in was when he looked at the window seat. The stranger describes the memory of his mother asking him riddles such as “ ‘What is round, and flat, measuring mere inches in one direction, and infinity in the other?’ ‘Out of what does our life arise? Out of what does our consciousness arise? Why are we here? Where is here?’” (Oates 328). These questions just like the act of violence and abuse don’t have a definitive answer but they go on and on until the answer to the question eventually become the question itself. The stranger goes on with his tour and continues upstairs and its noted that the son and the stranger had the same bedroom. The mother and father ask if the stranger wants to see their room but the stranger
Could be that he based the story on his mother or father because they are separated
Just look at the quote I gave you earlier: “Brooklyn, New York, as the undefined, hard-to–remember the shape of a stain.” He sees it as nothing but a stain on the map. He goes on to talk about “…the sludge at the bottom of the canal causes it to bubble.” Giving us something we can see, something we can hear because you can just imagine being near the canal and hearing the sludge bubble make their popping noises as the gas is released. He “The train sounds different – lighter, quieter—in the open air,” when it comes from underground and the sight he sees on the rooftops. Although some are negative, such as the sagging of roofs and graffiti, his tone towards the moment seems to be admiration. In the second section, he talks about the smells of Brooklyn and the taste of food. He’d talk about how his daughter compares the tastes of pizzas with her “…stern judgments of pizza. Low end… New Hampshire pizza. … In the middle… zoo pizza. …very top… two blocks from our house,” and different it was where he’d grown up. He talks about the immense amount of “smells in Brooklyn: Coffee, fingernail polish, eucalyptus…” and how other might hate it, but he enjoys it. In the same section, he describes how he enjoys the Brooklyn accent and the noise and smells that other people make on the streets and at the park across from his house. “Charcoal smoke drifts into the
As the journey to the destination begun the atmosphere is horrid as they passed cheap motels half deserted streets and sawdust motels it all set a very bleak tone of lifelessness, to support this claim, “like a patient etherized upon a table.” (Eliot 368) although they also encountered a yellow fog most likely caused by industrialism it took a form of animal imagery finding comfort in its surroundings to support this claim, “The yellow fog that rubs t back upon the window-panes, the yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.” (Eliot
At the same time, another claw to match drew her all the way into the room, and the next moment the door closed behind her” (123) implying the possessive nature of the first old lady. The room was tiny with a lot of furniture and “the room smelled wet even the bare floor” (123), a smell of dampness and decay permeated through the air. The window shade was down, it was dark and the only door was now shut for Marian. Although the room was full of furniture the place and the inmates were stripped of any life that Marian was acquainted with and was like the bare
With both hands resting lightly on the table to each side of his white foam cup, Otis stared into its deep abyss of emptiness with his head bowed as if willing it to fill again, giving him a reason to enjoy the shelter that the indoors provided. I could almost touch the conflict going on inside of him, a battle of wills as if he was negotiating with an imaginary devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I sensed a cramp of discomfort seizing his insides, compelling him to flee, then a silent resolve, as if a moment of clarity had graced his consciousness.
Poet William Blake once said "If The Doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite" (Gilmore 34). From this quote arose a band that even over 20 years after its disbanding still is played and remembered. The Doors started as a little garage band in California back in the early sixties. They were extremely popular due to their lead singer, Jim Morrison. Morrison himself was a real character. Morrison is considered by many critics a modern day poet. Others view him in a different light, George Will wrote "Morrison resembled Byron in one aspect, they both were mad, bad, and dangerous to know" (Will 64). Still others view him as a hero of the 'counterculture'. He was a sort of 'Peter Pan', one of those boys who never grew up. Morrison basically was The Doors. His blatant disregard for law and order made him a very well known figure. He was arrested on a few occasions for charges ranging from inciting riots to indecent exposure. He was also notorious for his drug use and alcohol abuse. His poetry though, justified his lifestyle. There were also three other members of the band: Ray Manzarak (keyboards), John Densmore (drummer), and Robby Krieger (guitarist). They all made up The Doors, but after the death of the lead singer Jim Morrison, the band's popularity dropped significantly. They did though produce three albums after Morrison's untimely demise (all of which were not very popular). Jim Morrison died on July 4th, 1971, in Paris, France. He was 27 years old at the time of death (the same age Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin died at also). He was found in his bathtub with a cute smirk on his face. He had finally "broke through to the other side"(Gilmore 35).
It seemed as though the eye was always watching him, maybe even out to get him. Every time he saw the man, he cringed at the sight of his ugly eye. From his point of view, the man deserved to die for having such an ugly thing upon his face. And when he went into the man’s room that night and the light struck the eye, it was the final straw. He had to go…
the door for the people behind them. Another possibility is that there is a social
At a glance, accounting might appear as a repetitive cycle of preparing and examining financial statements. However, a brief exposure to accounting has taught me how chaotic it can be for accountants. An accountant captures and represents the information of businesses. By reviewing financial operations, an accountant helps a business run efficiently. This profession can be intellectually stimulating and rewarding. After learning about accounting, I cannot help but be interested and desire to work toward a degree in accountancy. In my studies, I have learned accountants require a plethora of qualities to be successful. And to mature from a student to a professional, I must resolve to strengthen my weaknesses. There is much I must learn and achieve, but a degree in accounting is well worth the time spent.
There was a door that I had never gone in. It stood out in the middle
The concept of what other people think of us either becomes our whole world or becomes something we try to resist to become our own person. My first memory was when I was three years old in the family room of my first house. It was a three bedroom house in Parkersburg, West Virginia. My mom had just left the room to finish cooking dinner for the night. I was in the room with my dad who was recording me from across the relatively empty room. For some reason the way I remember this is from the perspective of my dad on the other side of the camera. I was thinking my own thoughts, but I saw myself as if I were my dad. I held in my hands one blue, one yellow, and one green plastic key. The keys had a smooth plastic feeling that soothed me and kept me calm. I was so hungry and craved something with flavor, and I decided the keys looked appetizing so I stuck them in my mouth. After I put them in my mouth I heard my dad start to chuckle. At first I laughed along with him, but then I felt like he was laughing at me rather than with me. I smelled the spices and heard the sizzle of my mom’s cooking from the other room so I left the flavorful keys in my mouth and started to cry. I question my dad to this day why he didn’t make me take them out and can still only illicit the response “I don’t know. I don’t even remember that”. As a three year old other people’s opinion of me did not really mean anything yet. At this point I decided that what the world (specifically my dad in this case) had a different perspective that I should also pay attention to. This led me to consider other’s opinions in my future endeavors.