11 résultats pour "cry"
-
Don't cry, I said, by putting my fingers on my face and pushing imaginary tears up my cheeks and back into my eyes.
Say something. He took hispen from hisshirt pocket andthetop napkin fromthestack onthe table. He wrote, Youwere happy whenIwas away. How could youthink that? We arelying toourselves andtoeach other. Lying about what? Idon't careifwe're lying. I am abad person. I don't care.Idon't carewhat youare. I can't. What's killingyou? He took another napkinfromthestack. He wrote, You'rekillingme. And then Iwas silent. He wrote, Youremind me. I put myhands onthe table andtold him, Youhave me. He took anothe...
-
I did not know if the baby was making me sick or if your grandfather was.
For himself? I pulled thebook fromhim.Itwas wetwith tears running downthepages, asifthe book itselfwere crying. Hehid hisface in his hands. Letme see you cry,Itold him. I do not want tohurt you, hesaid byshaking hishead lefttoright. It hurts mewhen youdonot want tohurt me,Itold him. Letme see you cry. He lowered hishands. Onone cheek itsaid YESbackward. Onone cheek itsaid NObackward. Hewas stilllooking down. Now thetears didnot run down hischeeks, butfellfrom hiseyes tothe ground. Letme see you...
-
From Bulfinch's Mythology: Ibycus - anthology.
The choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. Their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swellingserpents curled around their brows. Forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. It roseand swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. 'Happy the man who keeps his heart pure...
-
The Souls of Black Folk by W.
in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in onedark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife—this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. Inthis merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He would not Africanize America, f...
-
exactly what to do.
him upthe next Saturday at7:00, andwewould startthen. Itold him, "I'mnoteven through withtheA's." Hesaid, "OK," and thesound ofhis own voice made himcrythe most. Message three.9:31A.M. Hello? Hello?Hello? When Momtucked meinthat night, shecould tellthat something wasonmy mind, andasked ifIwanted totalk. Idid, but not toher, soIsaid, "Nooffense, butno." "Are yousure?" " Tresfatigué, " Isaid, waving myhand. "Doyouwant meto read something toyou?" "It'sOK." "Wecould gothrough the New YorkTimes for m...
-
man in the other room called again, this time extremely loudly, like he was desperate, but she didn't pay any attention,
ike she didn't hear it, or didn't care.
panicky, andsometimes they'drun.They remembered hundredsofcalls. Thousands. Theremight noteven bealimit. Isn't thatfascinating?" "Itis." "Because what's really fascinating isthat she'd playthecall ofadead elephant toits family members." "And?""Theyremembered." "Whatdidthey do?" "They approached thespeaker." "I wonder whattheywere feeling." "Whatdoyou mean?" "Whentheyheard thecalls oftheir dead, wasitwith lovethat they approached thejeep? Orfear? Oranger?" "Idon't remember." "Didthey charge?" "Id...
-
Stevenson: From Treasure Island - anthology.
air in front of him: ‘Will any kind friend inform a poor blind man, who has lost the precious sight of his eyes in the gracious defence of his native country, England, and God bless KingGeorge!—where or in what part of this country he may now be?’ ‘You are at the “Admiral Benbow,” Black Hill Cove, my good man,’ said I. ‘I hear a voice,’ said he—‘a young voice. Will you give me your hand, my kind young friend, and lead me in?’ I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eye...
-
brushing past me?
trying tofind theone onwhich shewas born, herfirst love, when shelast saw herparents, andIwas looking forAnna, too, Isearched andsearched, Igot apaper cutonmy forefinger andbled alittle flower ontothepage onwhich Ishould have seenherkissing somebody, butthis was allIsaw: I wanted tocry but Ididn't cry,Iprobably shouldhavecried, Ishould havedrowned usthere inthe room, ended our suffering, theywould havefound usfloating face-down intwo thousand whitepages, orburied underthesalt ofmy evaporated tea...
-
-
Coleridge's poem: Frost at midnight
– the singing redbreast suggests springtime while his hue transfers by implication to the apples on the tree to figure the ripeness of autumn. – The frost remembers the winter season > Appreciation of Nature "This populous village !" (l.11) exclamation = admiration, enthusiasm Third verse paragraph : a real ode to nature = sort of a lyricism veil upon that part of the text - 55-60 => natural elements "mountains, clouds,lakes, shores" = accumulatio...
-
Excerpt from Macbeth - anthology.
As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands.Listening their fear I could not say “Amen”When they did say “God bless us.” LADY. Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH. But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”?I had most need of blessing, and “Amen”Stuck in my throat. LADY. These deeds must not be thoughtAfter these ways; so, it will make us mad. MACBETH. Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!Macbeth does murder sleep—the innocent sleep,Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,The...
-
Excerpt from Richard II - anthology.
He may surrender. So we shall proceedWithout suspicion. YORK. I will be his conduct.Exit BOLINGBROKE. Lords, you that here are under our arrest,Procure your sureties for your days of answer.Little are we beholding to your love,And little looked for at your helping hands. Enter Richard and York RICHARD. Alack, why am I sent for to a kingBefore I have shook off the regal thoughtsWherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learnedTo insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.Give sorrow leave awhile to t...