<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:19:25.019-05:00</updated><category term='posted by Red-head with an attitude'/><title type='text'>Literary Oasis</title><subtitle type='html'>Relax, grab a smoothie and a snack; and enjoy the literary critiques... and occasional artistic postings.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-497076628561527797</id><published>2009-02-20T11:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T11:23:40.975-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Camus's Imagery</title><content type='html'>Camus's imagery in this novel is fantastic.  For example, "There was the same dazzling red glare.  The sea gasped for air with each shallow, stifled little wave that broke on the sand.  I was walking slowly toward the rocks and I could feel me forehead swelling under the sun.  All that heat was pressing down on me and making it hard for me to go on.  And every time I felt a blast of it's hot breath strike my face, I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists in my trouser pockets, and strained every nerve in order to overcome the sun and the thick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;drunkenness&lt;/span&gt; it was spilling over me.  With &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; blade of light that it was spilling over me.  With every blade of light that flashed off the sand, from a bleached shell or a piece of broken glass, my jaws tightened."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-497076628561527797?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/497076628561527797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=497076628561527797' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/497076628561527797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/497076628561527797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/camuss-imagery.html' title='Camus&apos;s Imagery'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-2708344140251228840</id><published>2009-02-19T17:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T11:18:03.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More from The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Salamano&lt;/span&gt;, a neighbor of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Meursault's&lt;/span&gt;, had a strange relationship with his dog.  They were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;inseparable&lt;/span&gt;, and yet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Salamano&lt;/span&gt; often cursed the animal's constant presence.  When the dog ran away, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Salamano&lt;/span&gt; was distraught because the dog had been his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;companion&lt;/span&gt; since his wife died.  When describing the dog, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Salamano&lt;/span&gt; said, "And, you didn't know him before he got sick.  His coat was the best thing about him."  To quote the book, "Every night and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; morning before the dog hat gotten that skin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;disease&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Salamano&lt;/span&gt; rubbed him with ointment.  But according to him, the dog's real sickness was old age, and there's no cure for old age."  I absolutely love that statement:  "There is no cure for old age."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-2708344140251228840?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/2708344140251228840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=2708344140251228840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2708344140251228840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2708344140251228840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-from-stranger.html' title='More from The Stranger'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-3673418585144985685</id><published>2009-02-18T11:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T11:10:56.035-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Stranger&lt;/span&gt; was written by Camus in 1946.  I'm through Part I of the story, and I'm finding it to be a little strange; I can't explain why though.  Well, it might be because it's a stream of conscience novel, thus the order of events is a little strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main character, Meursault, is a bit odd; and I think someone ought to teach him how to talk to women.  Following are example of why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A minute later she asked me if I loved her.  I told her it didn't mean anything, but I didn't think so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Marie came by to see me and asked me if I wanted to marry her.  I said it didn't make any difference to me [...]."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, you should never be so indifferent towards women. Additionally, if he doesn't love her and doesn't care to marry her, then why is he with her?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-3673418585144985685?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/3673418585144985685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=3673418585144985685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3673418585144985685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3673418585144985685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/stranger.html' title='The Stranger'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-7763094360056079525</id><published>2009-02-05T21:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T20:54:11.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Infatuations with Prufrock</title><content type='html'>I adore many phrases from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"; following is the list of worthy (or what I think are worthy) quotations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,&lt;br /&gt;And seeing that it was a soft October night,&lt;br /&gt;Curled once about the house, and fell asleep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There will be a time to murder and create"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do I dare&lt;br /&gt;Disturb the universe?&lt;br /&gt;In a minute there is time&lt;br /&gt;For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have measured my life with coffee spoons;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, I am completely infatuated with the final stanza:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea&lt;br /&gt;By sea- girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown&lt;br /&gt;Till human voices wake us, and we drown."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-7763094360056079525?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/7763094360056079525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=7763094360056079525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7763094360056079525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7763094360056079525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/infatuations-with-prufrock_03.html' title='Infatuations with Prufrock'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-6583965576697143217</id><published>2009-02-03T20:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T20:59:38.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prufrock</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;... first of all, I would like to announce that I think "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Prufrock&lt;/span&gt;" is incredibly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;amusing&lt;/span&gt; to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to get serious.  T.S. Eliot published "The Love Song of J. Alfred &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Prufrock&lt;/span&gt;" in 1917.  It is 130 lines broken up in 23 stanzas... yes it is a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; poem... but it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; worth reading. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eliot employs fascinating imagery with phrases such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels&lt;br /&gt;And of sawdust &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;restaurants&lt;/span&gt; with oyster-shells"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, the way Eliot manipulated the sentences to make them rhyme seemed childish.  However,  I believe there is more to it.  I guess I shall see during Thursday's discussion of Prufrock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-6583965576697143217?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/6583965576697143217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=6583965576697143217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6583965576697143217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6583965576697143217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/prufrock.html' title='Prufrock'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-2379689848753615270</id><published>2009-02-03T18:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T18:35:55.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Harmony</title><content type='html'>"It is a delightful harmony when going and saying go together"-- Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-1592)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-2379689848753615270?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/2379689848753615270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=2379689848753615270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2379689848753615270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2379689848753615270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/02/harmony.html' title='Harmony'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-3988361548526377165</id><published>2009-01-28T19:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T19:48:17.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart of Darkness</title><content type='html'>Joseph Conrad's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heart of Darkness&lt;/span&gt; is said to be "a landmark of modern fiction"; however, I'm having serious difficulties following the story.  Who knows, maybe I'm just not getting into it, but I am finding this novella very difficult to read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-3988361548526377165?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/3988361548526377165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=3988361548526377165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3988361548526377165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3988361548526377165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/01/heart-of-darkness.html' title='Heart of Darkness'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-7762199253315860551</id><published>2009-01-14T16:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T20:00:37.727-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Antonia</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;title&gt;&lt;/title&gt;&lt;meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.4  (Win32)"&gt;&lt;style type="text/css"&gt; 	&lt;!-- 		@page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } 	--&gt;&lt;/style&gt;I am really enjoying &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Antonia&lt;/span&gt;, by Willa Cather.  Cather's style of writing greatly reminds me of my favorite childhood author, Laura &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ingalls&lt;/span&gt; Wilder.  I get the same vibe from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Antonia&lt;/span&gt; as I get from works like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Little House in the Big Woods&lt;/span&gt; or&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; These Happy Golden Years&lt;/span&gt;.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-7762199253315860551?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/7762199253315860551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=7762199253315860551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7762199253315860551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7762199253315860551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-antonia.html' title='My Antonia'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-6897819162334621381</id><published>2009-01-09T20:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T20:32:08.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Muse</title><content type='html'>"To the Muse" was written in 1911 by Tsarskoye Selo; this poem was also translated from Russian into English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Muse my sister looked in my face,&lt;br /&gt;her gaze was bright and clear,&lt;br /&gt;ans she took away my golden ring,&lt;br /&gt;the girft of the virginal year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muse! everyone else is happy-&lt;br /&gt;girls, wives, widows-all around!&lt;br /&gt;I swear I'd rather die on the rack&lt;br /&gt;than live fettered and bound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In time I'll join the guessing-game,&lt;br /&gt;pluck petals from the daisy's wheel.&lt;br /&gt;Each creature on this earth, I know,&lt;br /&gt;must suffer love's ordeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I pine for on one,&lt;br /&gt;alone in my candlelit room;&lt;br /&gt;but I don't-don't-don't want to know&lt;br /&gt;who's kissing whom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At dawn the mirrors, mocking will say:&lt;br /&gt;"Your gaze is not bright or clear."&lt;br /&gt;I'll sigh:  "The Muse my sister came&lt;br /&gt;and took the girft of girfts away."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-6897819162334621381?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/6897819162334621381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=6897819162334621381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6897819162334621381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6897819162334621381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/01/to-muse.html' title='To the Muse'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4295145782688721654</id><published>2008-12-28T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T15:13:26.478-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Russian Poems</title><content type='html'>While perusing my sister's "History of Russia" booklet, I came across a poem that fascinated me. "Three things Enchanted Him...." was written in 1911, and the author is unknown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things enchated him:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;white peacocks, evensong,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and faded maps of America.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He couldn't stand bawling brats,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;or rasberry jam with his tea,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;or womanish hysteria.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...And he was tied to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4295145782688721654?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4295145782688721654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4295145782688721654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4295145782688721654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4295145782688721654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2009/01/russian-poems.html' title='Russian Poems'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-5627053235477380522</id><published>2008-12-15T15:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T15:22:54.202-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Last Duchess</title><content type='html'>"My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning is an exquisit poem.  It's based upon Duke Alfonso II of Ferrara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the poem, the Duke is decribing a painting of his late wife to a visitor.  His late wife,  &lt;span&gt;Lucrezia di Cosimo de' Medici,&lt;/span&gt; was a flirtatious girl of 16 when they were married.  The Duke then goes on to decribed how he had her killed (history speculates that she was poisned) to the visitor, who turns out to be the man arraging his next marriage to another teen girl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you just love the irony?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-5627053235477380522?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/5627053235477380522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=5627053235477380522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5627053235477380522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5627053235477380522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-last-duchess.html' title='My Last Duchess'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-2007522263283957995</id><published>2008-12-04T18:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T17:37:46.587-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The greatest disease</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In 1995, Mother Teresa stated, "The greatest disease in the West today is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for.  We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hopelessness&lt;/span&gt; is love." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-2007522263283957995?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/2007522263283957995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=2007522263283957995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2007522263283957995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2007522263283957995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/12/greatest-disease.html' title='The greatest disease'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-2243996606923190814</id><published>2008-12-02T18:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T18:48:56.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Audrey's words of wisdom</title><content type='html'>Here are some words of wisdom from the fabulous Audrey Hepburn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pick the day. Enjoy it - to the hilt. The day as it comes. People as they come... The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present - and I don't want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-2243996606923190814?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/2243996606923190814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=2243996606923190814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2243996606923190814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/2243996606923190814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/12/audreys-words-of-wisdom.html' title='Audrey&apos;s words of wisdom'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4320188557802657285</id><published>2008-11-30T16:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T17:38:33.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Crossroads</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He suddenly recalled Sonia's words, "Go to the crossroads, bow down to the people, kiss the earth, for you have sinned against it too, and say aloud to the whole world, 'I am a murderer.'"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I honestly feel that this is the most powerful passage in Crime and Punishment.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Raskolnikov&lt;/span&gt; admitted to Sonia that he had killed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Aliona&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ivanovna&lt;/span&gt;, and above was Sonia's reply (once she had recovered from the shock).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although Sonia is not the main character in the novel, she is one of (if not my most) favorite characters.  Sonia always did everything she could to help those in need.  Sonia became a prostitute to help &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;financially&lt;/span&gt; support her family. She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;continued&lt;/span&gt; to support her step-mother after her father passed away,  and she cared for her step-siblings after her step- mother passed away.  Not to mention, Sonia loved and provided moral support for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Raskolnikov&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people pity Sonia, and I do in a way, but mostly I admire her.  Sonia was incredibly strong; and her inner beauty and faith was of such a degree that no other character could compare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4320188557802657285?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4320188557802657285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4320188557802657285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4320188557802657285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4320188557802657285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/12/crossroads.html' title='The Crossroads'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-3985582125462739183</id><published>2008-11-26T11:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T11:41:06.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crime and Punishment</title><content type='html'>I've been hesitant to post about Crime and Punishment because I have read it before, and I didn't want to give anything away.  However, since we are approaching the finish of the novel, I figure that it's all right to start posting about Crime and Punishment....especially because the cranky old man is grading a blog post on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Arkady&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ivanovich&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Dunia's&lt;/span&gt; former employer.  Although &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; was married, he was infatuated with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; and according to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Pulcheria&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Alexandrovna&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Rodia's&lt;/span&gt; mother) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; "[...] lost all control and dared to make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; an open and vile proposal, promising her all sorts of inducements and offering, besides, to drop everything and take her to another estate of his, or even abroad!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately,  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Svidrigailov's&lt;/span&gt; wife (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Marfa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Petrovna&lt;/span&gt;) over- heard.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; was fired,  and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Marfa&lt;/span&gt; went around the village slandering her name.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt;, however, argued with his wife on behalf of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Dunia's&lt;/span&gt; innocence; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Marfa&lt;/span&gt; was finally convinced, and arranged a marriage for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; with one of her distant relations, Peter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Petrovich&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Luzhin&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Luzhin&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Pulcheria&lt;/span&gt; later moved to St. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Petersburg&lt;/span&gt;, where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Rodia&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;loging&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; journeyed to St. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Petersburg&lt;/span&gt;, as well, after his wife had died; he visited &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Rodia&lt;/span&gt; and stated that he no longer had feelings for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt;, but he did not wish her to marry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Luzhin&lt;/span&gt; because he was not a respectable man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt; did call off the engagement because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Luzhin&lt;/span&gt; did not respect, and was cruel to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Rodia&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Pulcheria&lt;/span&gt;, and her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many would see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; as a romantic hero.  He was willing to leave his wife for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Dunia&lt;/span&gt;, he begged his wife to save her reputation, and he could not bare to see her marry a man that would treat her unkindly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Svidrigailov&lt;/span&gt; can also be viewed as the negation of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;romantic&lt;/span&gt; hero.  He was willing to abandon his wife and children for younger woman. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;ruined&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Dunia's&lt;/span&gt; reputation by proposing to her.  Not to mention, he wanted to convince her to break off her engagement, which would have brought her and her family out of poverty, and yet he did not want to marry her himself; thus, he was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;essentially&lt;/span&gt; leaving her on her own, without a penny (or kopeck I should say).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-3985582125462739183?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/3985582125462739183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=3985582125462739183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3985582125462739183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3985582125462739183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/crime-and-punishment.html' title='Crime and Punishment'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4182224702796811607</id><published>2008-11-19T20:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T20:50:39.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not one for being comforted.</title><content type='html'>In the New Testament, Matthew 5:3-11 reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are they which do not hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;manner&lt;/span&gt; of evil against you falsely, for my sake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I takes &lt;strong&gt;serious&lt;/strong&gt; issue with "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted". I don't want to be comforted.... I don't want to be mourning and grieving in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a loved one has died, visitors often say things that make the grieving feel so much worse.  Take for example,"Oh it must have been so hard for you to be there"; "There's a reason for everything"; or "He's in a better place now." Whenever I hear that, I want to reply with a very nasty phrase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in heaven, and I know that he's in a better place, but what about the ones who are left behind? Blessed are not the ones who mourn... Blessed are the ones in heaven.... the ones who mourn are left with feelings of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;emptiness&lt;/span&gt;, disbelief, and agony; and these feelings are sometimes impossible to overcome, no matter how hard one tries to escape from it. The hole in one's heart becomes a parasite that begins to grow, and slowly eat away at the rest of one's being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dead are at peace, but the living must continue on in a world that causes suffering. Honestly, people should not grieve for the dead, but for the living.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4182224702796811607?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4182224702796811607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4182224702796811607' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4182224702796811607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4182224702796811607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-not-one-for-being-comforted.html' title='I&apos;m not one for being comforted.'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-5555077456692922847</id><published>2008-11-10T17:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T17:52:47.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monet Monday: 11/10/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SRi6qEfpttI/AAAAAAAAACg/-MDkZPSytDU/s1600-h/bordighera.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267164996133566162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SRi6qEfpttI/AAAAAAAAACg/-MDkZPSytDU/s320/bordighera.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bordighera&lt;/span&gt;" was painted by Monet in Riviera Italy, in 1884.  When describing Italy, Monet said, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;C'est&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt; pays &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;féerique&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;terriblement&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;difficile&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;il&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;faudrait&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;une&lt;/span&gt; palette &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;diamants&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;pierreries&lt;/span&gt;."  Translation:  "It is a magical and terribly difficult land, I almost need a palette of diamonds and jewelleries." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-5555077456692922847?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/5555077456692922847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=5555077456692922847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5555077456692922847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5555077456692922847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/monet-monday-111008.html' title='Monet Monday: 11/10/08'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SRi6qEfpttI/AAAAAAAAACg/-MDkZPSytDU/s72-c/bordighera.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-572084643839711542</id><published>2008-11-06T15:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T16:02:12.024-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do not stand at my grave and weep</title><content type='html'>I recently &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;attended&lt;/span&gt; a funeral.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;deceased's&lt;/span&gt; son read one of the most beautiful poems that I have ever heard.  It's called "Do not Stand at My Grave and Weep."  I was written by Mary Frye in 1932:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not stand at my grave and weep,&lt;br /&gt;I am not there, I do not sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a thousand winds that blow.&lt;br /&gt;I am the diamond glint on snow.&lt;br /&gt;I am the sunlight on ripened grain.&lt;br /&gt;I am the gentle autumn rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you wake in the morning hush,&lt;br /&gt;I am the swift, uplifting rush&lt;br /&gt;Of quiet birds in circling flight.&lt;br /&gt;I am the soft starlight at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not stand at my grave and weep.&lt;br /&gt;I am not there, I do not sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Do not stand at my grave and cry.&lt;br /&gt;I am not there, I did not die!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-572084643839711542?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/572084643839711542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=572084643839711542' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/572084643839711542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/572084643839711542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/do-not-stand-at-my-grave-and-weep.html' title='Do not stand at my grave and weep'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-1453385779564500757</id><published>2008-11-06T14:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T14:39:05.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For Beautiful Eyes</title><content type='html'>I am in a quotation phase.  I absolutely love quotes.... yes, I do realize how geeky that sounds.  However, I believe that much wisdom and knowledge can be absorbed through quotations.  Thus, I do declare that I will attempt to post a meaningful quotes on Thurdays. Oh, and fyi there is a 'quote of the day' at the bottom of my page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For today's quotation, I turn to Ms. Audrey Hepburn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-1453385779564500757?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/1453385779564500757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=1453385779564500757' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1453385779564500757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1453385779564500757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/for-beautiful-eyes.html' title='For Beautiful Eyes'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-5273774405774199848</id><published>2008-11-05T20:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T20:14:19.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I adore Marcel Proust</title><content type='html'>Well, I just spent an hour re-working my paper because it was awful.  So, I'm desperately hoping that I improved it in some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another Proust quote that I find amazingly insightful and very true... thus, I am posting it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full."-- Remembrance of Things Past.  The Sweet Cheat Gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-5273774405774199848?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/5273774405774199848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=5273774405774199848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5273774405774199848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5273774405774199848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-adore-marcel-proust.html' title='I adore Marcel Proust'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-69985981398093423</id><published>2008-11-04T15:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T15:45:49.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazing quotation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;... I think I'm finished with the Lear/ Rivals paper.... although, I will probably re-read what I've written tomorrow and hate every word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm officially done with dwelling on this paper... because if I think about it anymore I will drive myself insane.  Not too long ago, I read a quote by Proust and I absolutely adored it.... so I have to post it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind."-- Remembrance of Things Past.  The Past Recaptured.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-69985981398093423?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/69985981398093423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=69985981398093423' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/69985981398093423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/69985981398093423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/amazing-quotation.html' title='Amazing quotation'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-6322478423370590516</id><published>2008-11-04T14:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T14:52:22.129-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lear/Rivals Paper</title><content type='html'>I'm really beginning to despise writing this paper.  I have been trying to find a published, outside source, but none are really helpful.... why do we need an outside source anyway.... why can't we just use our own opinions to make the comparisons?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This really is infuriating.... I have written a little over a page, and I have no idea what else to write..... so much for enjoying my day off! (I hope everyone pick up on the sarcasm)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-6322478423370590516?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/6322478423370590516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=6322478423370590516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6322478423370590516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6322478423370590516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/learrivals-paper.html' title='Lear/Rivals Paper'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4984732094747997337</id><published>2008-11-03T15:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T15:25:19.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monet Monday: 11/3/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQ9d3prADpI/AAAAAAAAACY/oTeTwH_V4_s/s1600-h/apc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264529700079799954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQ9d3prADpI/AAAAAAAAACY/oTeTwH_V4_s/s320/apc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sassenheim&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;près&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Haarlem&lt;/span&gt;, champ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;tulipes&lt;/span&gt;" was done by Monet in 1866.  I absolutely love the color of the farm house, and the combination of colors in the field. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4984732094747997337?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4984732094747997337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4984732094747997337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4984732094747997337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4984732094747997337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/11/monet-monday-11308.html' title='Monet Monday: 11/3/08'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQ9d3prADpI/AAAAAAAAACY/oTeTwH_V4_s/s72-c/apc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-1163134002579933278</id><published>2008-10-31T16:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T17:07:54.889-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Infanticide... yea or nay?</title><content type='html'>In class, we read a biting satire by Jonathan Swift.  "A Modest Proposal" was published in 1729, as a pamphlet describing a solution to Ireland's poverty... the solution was to take the poor people's children and eat them, or skin them alive to make shoes and gloves.  In his pamphlet, however, Swift did propose serious solutions such as incorporating women into the work force, only purchasing products manufactured in Ireland, and taxing absentees at five shillings a pound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading Swift's pamphlet brought us to Peter Singer's philosophy's.  Singer is said to be the Swift of today.  Singer argues for Infanticide (the allowance of parents to kill their children before it reaches a year old).  I feel that Singer has a valid point; if a child has some sort of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disability&lt;/span&gt;, then it is a given the the child's life will be so much more difficult.  We have no trouble putting sick animals down... so why do we make humans suffer for approximately 75 years?  I, personally, would never be able to kill a child... but I do think Singer makes a good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-1163134002579933278?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/1163134002579933278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=1163134002579933278' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1163134002579933278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1163134002579933278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/infanticide-yea-or-nay.html' title='Infanticide... yea or nay?'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-5024778375495389648</id><published>2008-10-30T16:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T16:31:26.722-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So happy to be back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQoYRc2CYsI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WIXA2KERQfA/s1600-h/image.aspx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQoYRc2CYsI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WIXA2KERQfA/s320/image.aspx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263045802615530178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooooooo&lt;/span&gt; happy to have the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; again.... I have been without for about a week, and it has been driving me insane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few topics that I am anxious to post about; but, unfortunately, I do not have time at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is a quick artistic post.  No, Van &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gogh&lt;/span&gt; was not french by birth... but he died in France so I believe that it's not breaking my rule to post some of his artwork.  "Starry Night" is one that almost everyone has seen or heard of.... but so much can be taken from this piece.... and I have heard so many people discuss this painting and almost each one interprets it differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, when I look at this painting, I think of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aurora&lt;/span&gt; Borealis.  I believe that the northern lights bring hope to the people in the poor, darkened city below.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-5024778375495389648?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/5024778375495389648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=5024778375495389648' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5024778375495389648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5024778375495389648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-happy-to-be-back.html' title='So happy to be back'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SQoYRc2CYsI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WIXA2KERQfA/s72-c/image.aspx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-6001760821213139732</id><published>2008-10-23T16:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T21:17:01.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Les Miserables is Amazing!</title><content type='html'>The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ogunquit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Playhouse's production of Les Miserables, based on the novel by Victor Hugo, was simply &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;spectacular&lt;/span&gt;.  The cast did a phenomenal job.  In the play, when the french citizens sang about their outrage with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;parliament&lt;/span&gt; and the royal family, the audience could feel the passion &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;emanating&lt;/span&gt; from the actors/actresses.  For those who are unfamiliar with the plot of Les &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mis&lt;/span&gt;.:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="rkr"&gt;The play opens with a middle-aged man, Jean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt;, who was released from jail, after nineteen years, for stealing a loaf of bread.  His release, however, doesn't truly bring him freedom because he must always present his papers (explaining his criminal record) in every town he travels to.  Additionally, these papers give managers the right to reduced &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Valjean's&lt;/span&gt; pay; thus, he never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;receives&lt;/span&gt; a fair amount of payment for the hard labor that he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When spending a night in a bishops home, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; sneaks out in the middle of the night stealing silver from the premises. He is caught and brought back to the bishop, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; is shocked to find the bishop has stated to the police that he gave the silver to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; then decides to change his life.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; changes his name, makes use of the money (from the Bishop's silver) to become the owner of a factory, and eventually becomes the mayor of a distant town.  All the while, Inspector &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Javert&lt;/span&gt;-- a prison guard-- suspects that the mayor is really Jean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; meets a woman, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Fantine&lt;/span&gt;, on the street one night.  After losing her job at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Valjean's&lt;/span&gt; factory, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Fantine&lt;/span&gt; was forced to become a prostitute to help support her daughter. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Fantine&lt;/span&gt; becomes ill and dies, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; promises that he will take care of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Fantine's&lt;/span&gt; daughter, Cosette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; attains custody of Cosette and raises her as they hide in a monastery for nearly a decade. Once again, after all these years, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt; opens himself up to discovery by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Javert&lt;/span&gt; when Cosette desires to see the world. Cosette  meets and falls in love with a young student, Marius, who a rebel in the French Revolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Javert&lt;/span&gt; continues after Jean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Valjean&lt;/span&gt;, Cosette is seeing Marius, the revolution has begun and the lives of all these inter-related characters are being torn apart.  Yet, love manages to blossom, even in these dangerous times... while death comes to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The play is a musical.... at times the music is heart-wrenching... and at others, these pieces are the most beautiful compositions one has ever heard.  The play is very serious, but comedic relief is provided by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Thenardiers&lt;/span&gt; (a bar owner and his wife).   This play brings forth almost every emotion one can imagine.  One can be laughing hysterically at Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Thenardiers&lt;/span&gt; thwarted sexual advances upon&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; all&lt;/span&gt; of the women in the bar, when just five minutes earlier one was in tears because of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Fantine's&lt;/span&gt; tragic demise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-6001760821213139732?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/6001760821213139732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=6001760821213139732' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6001760821213139732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6001760821213139732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/ogunquit-playhouses-production-of-les.html' title='Les Miserables is Amazing!'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-7326517147003148353</id><published>2008-10-16T11:47:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T12:22:10.812-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rivals</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"The Rivals" by Richard &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Brinsley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Sheridan was supposedly a comedy.  However, much like Shakespeare's comedies, I did not find "The Rivals" to be hilarious or hysterical.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"The Rivals" takes place in Bath, England during the 18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; century.  In the play Captain Absolute, masquerading as Ensign Beverly, courted a beautiful young heiress, Lydia Languish. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Absolute's&lt;/span&gt; father &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; his son with his arrival in Bath, and informed Captain Absolute that he had arranged a marriage for him. At first the captain objected, but then he discovered that the woman his father had in mind was Miss Languish. This raised a new problem: Lydia greatly desired to run off and elope with Beverly, although her Aunt forbid it, and she refused to meet or marry Captain Absolute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Meanwhile a rival suitor, Bob Acres, was persuaded to challenge Beverly to a duel even though Acres was terrified of being killed. Yet, everything was resolved when Acres discovered that Beverly was really Absolute, an old friend. Absolute makes his true identity known to Lydia, and she decided that she would marry the captain, even though he was not a poor ensign.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I found that this play was quite enjoyable; the plot was quite intriguing.  The language, however, was a bit difficult at times; but, compared to Shakespeare's plays it was a piece of cake. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-7326517147003148353?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/7326517147003148353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=7326517147003148353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7326517147003148353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7326517147003148353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/rivals.html' title='The Rivals'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-8580068936673025694</id><published>2008-10-09T16:09:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T16:49:34.447-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Villains of King Lear</title><content type='html'>In Shakespeare's "King Lear" there were five important villains: Edmund, Cornwall, Oswald, Regan, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Although they were all evil characters, there were differences in their villainy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edmund was the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;illegitimate&lt;/span&gt; son of the Duke of Gloucester. When he was born, the stars were in an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;alignment&lt;/span&gt; that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;prophesied&lt;/span&gt; Edmund would become evil. I don't believe that Edmund ever &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; wanted to be evil, but he became evil because he felt that he must. After Edmund had been stabbed in a duel with his brother, Edgar, he admitted to all of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;villainous&lt;/span&gt; acts he had committed. Additionally, just before he died, Edmund confessed that he had ordered the captain of his army to murder Cordelia. Edmund attempted to stop the murder before he passed away, but was, unfortunately, too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Duke of Cornwall was not a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;prominent&lt;/span&gt; character in King Lear. He did, however, commit the atrocious act of gouging out Gloucester's eyes. Cornwall seemed to be a very cold, harsh character. However, I believe that the evil he committed was for his wife, Regan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regan was King Lear's middle child. She, along with her husband, was responsible for allowing Gloucester to go blind by gouging out his eyes. Regan, however did not seem to be as harsh as her elder sister, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;; in fact, I believe she became evil because she was following her sister's lead. Regan seemed to be following her sister's wishes throughout the play. For example, after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; had banished Lear from her castle, Regan would not allow Lear to stay with her either; when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; wanted to have an affair with Edmund, Regan did also; and when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; decided to send her armies to attack Cordelia's, their youngest sister, armies Regan did too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oswald, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Goneril's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; servant, also followed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Goneril's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; wishes. Oswald did not commit any great, evil act. He did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Goneril's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; bidding, however, and was thus sent out to do evil tasks. What can be looked upon as his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;redeeming&lt;/span&gt; quality, however, was that he served &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;unwavering&lt;/span&gt; loyalty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; was the most evil, vicious, power- hungry character in "King Lear"; every move she made was for personal gain. She banished her father from her castle, she sent her armies to attack her youngest sister, she cheated on her loving husband with Edmund, and she ended up murdering Regan and committing suicide at the finale of the play. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; was the root of most of the evil and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;disasters&lt;/span&gt; in "King Lear". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; never showed any remorse for all the hurt and suffering she caused, and she was without any redeeming qualities.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-8580068936673025694?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/8580068936673025694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=8580068936673025694' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8580068936673025694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8580068936673025694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/villains-of-king-lear.html' title='The Villains of King Lear'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4328722837076660477</id><published>2008-10-09T15:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T15:58:56.911-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you comfortable presenting?</title><content type='html'>I am astounded by the people who can present their works to a room full of people.  It  simply amazes me when someone boldy saunters to the front of a class and confidently reads his or her paper aloud.  I absolutely detest having others read/ hear my writing.... I'm very self- consious about what I write.  To paraphrase Gilmore Girls: writing is like a love affair, you don't want to let other people in on it.  Additionally, when I have to present a paper and I see the 20 pairs of eyes peering up at me I feel queasy, and I tend to stutter.  Those who are comfortable presenting in front of their peers deserve a round of applause.... not everyone can do what they can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4328722837076660477?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4328722837076660477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4328722837076660477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4328722837076660477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4328722837076660477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/are-you-comfortable-presenting.html' title='Are you comfortable presenting?'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-8100279443713416106</id><published>2008-10-06T16:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T16:06:08.337-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Monet Monday: 10/6/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SOpvm3x8LgI/AAAAAAAAACI/AVfXDtCeDDs/s1600-h/apc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254134628880231938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SOpvm3x8LgI/AAAAAAAAACI/AVfXDtCeDDs/s320/apc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monet always lived &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;close&lt;/span&gt; to the Seine River... he was fascinated by water; by its transparency and the way it cast &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;reflections&lt;/span&gt;. Monet painted "La Seine à &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Vétheuil&lt;/span&gt;" in 1879. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-8100279443713416106?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/8100279443713416106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=8100279443713416106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8100279443713416106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8100279443713416106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/monet-monday-10608.html' title='Monet Monday: 10/6/08'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SOpvm3x8LgI/AAAAAAAAACI/AVfXDtCeDDs/s72-c/apc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4039581598681786925</id><published>2008-10-01T16:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T17:03:59.576-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Ideology"... not ideal</title><content type='html'>Ideally, I'd like to be able to come home and relax... this, however, is not a perfect world and homework consumes our lives.  As it turns out, one will always be doing homework.  Even after one graduates from high school/ college.... work always comes home with you.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Soooo&lt;/span&gt; not fair!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Anyhoo&lt;/span&gt;... I got home and began reading "Ideology" by James H. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kavanagh&lt;/span&gt;, and let me tell you- it was not a pleasure to read.  Although, I did like how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kavangh&lt;/span&gt; related Marxism to Ideology... it is an interesting point of view. However, his writing was very complex, analytical, and difficult to understand.  I generally enjoy reading; this piece, however, has given me an incredible &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;headache&lt;/span&gt;... and I do not wish to read anything else for a very long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4039581598681786925?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4039581598681786925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4039581598681786925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4039581598681786925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4039581598681786925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/10/ideology-not-ideal.html' title='&quot;Ideology&quot;... not ideal'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4727132936899035296</id><published>2008-09-29T15:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T17:56:10.632-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Motifs of King Lear</title><content type='html'>Three motifs from "King Lear" are: breaking of the heart, no recovery from grief, and human decomposition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Breaking of the heart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking of the heart is evident when, in act 4 scene 1, Edgar says, "How should this be?  Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorry, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ang'ring&lt;/span&gt; itself and others.  Bless thee, master!"  Edgar and Gloucester cross paths not long after Gloucester's eyes had been gouged out.  Despite the fact that Gloucester had treated Edgar horribly, Edgar's heart broke at the sight of his maimed father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In act 4 scene 7 Lear awakes with Cordelia at his side.  She was the only daughter who still cared for him, and Lear's heart &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;broke&lt;/span&gt; when he remembered the hurt he had caused her.  "[...] I know you do not love me; for your sisters have, as I remember, done me wrong.  You have some cause, they have not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  No recovery from grief:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In act 5 scene 3 Edmund kills himself.  Originally, Edmund thought that he must act as though he is evil because that is how he was destined to act.  However, after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan die, he realizes that he has made some terrible mistakes, and attempts to correct them.  Yet, he ends up committing suicide because he realized all the pain and trouble that he had caused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cordelia was the only daughter that stood by King Lear; and when she is murdered (act 5 scene 3), Lear never recovers.  "[...] Look &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;on&lt;/span&gt; her.  Look, her lips, look there, look there.  [&lt;em&gt;he dies&lt;/em&gt;]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Human Decomposition:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Act 4 scene 6 Lear enters, adorned in flowers, and rants about many things (such as his daughters and adultery) to the disguised Edgar and Gloucester.  This is the point when the readers see Lear begin to mentally decompose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The readers see Goneril morally decompose in act 4 scene 2.  As Albany said, "Proper deformity seems not in the fiend so horrid as in a woman."  Not only was Goneril sending the English army to attack her sister, Cordelia, and their father, but she was planning to cheat on her husband and have an affair with Edmund.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I suppose it's more than obvious that this play is not a commedy! ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4727132936899035296?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4727132936899035296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4727132936899035296' title='73 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4727132936899035296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4727132936899035296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/motifs-of-king-lear.html' title='Motifs of King Lear'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>73</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-5830067722708125383</id><published>2008-09-24T18:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T19:00:42.565-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonnet 116</title><content type='html'>Sonnet 116 (also known as: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds") was written by Mr. William Shakespeare.  Although the language of Sonnet 116 is not remarkable for its imagery or metaphoric range, it is a spectacular poem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sonnet is a heart-felt piece about being in love.  The Narrator describes love as unchanging, and everlasting.  He says that love doesn't recognize flaws or changes in the loved one (in other words: "love is blind", and that "love conquers all".  (Oh dear... I used two cliches.... the 'cranky old man' is going to be furious.  Oh well... I don't care... when it comes to love, there are always cliches up to wazoo.)  At the finish, the narrator says that if his statements about love can be proven false, than no man has ever loved at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that this sonnet takes place at the beginning of a relationship. This is because when one first falls in love and when everything is fresh and new, one tends to feel like he or she is floating upon a cloud and one tends to overlook flaws.  However, life is difficult and many challenges arise; and as time passes, one usually falls off the cloud and finds a few flaws.  This doesn't, however, mean that the love will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love &lt;strong&gt;must &lt;/strong&gt;change; and change can be a good thing.  People grow and change throughout their entire lives.  As people who are in a relationships grow and change, their feelings change and thus the relationship will change.  However, if the people in the relationship can work and change together, the relationship and love grows stronger.  If the love is strong enough, they will remain together and continue to love each other deeply.  There is no such thing as a happily ever after because... well, to quote &lt;span&gt;Cerebral Fix, "Life sucks and then you die".  However, if you are lucky enough to be with a person that you love, and who loves you in return.... life sucks a little less.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-5830067722708125383?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/5830067722708125383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=5830067722708125383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5830067722708125383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/5830067722708125383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/sonnet-116.html' title='Sonnet 116'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-1242371059361601540</id><published>2008-09-24T18:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T19:01:49.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Glycines</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNq_7lesDrI/AAAAAAAAACA/rXClnFOEjrk/s1600-h/Glycines.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249719346047749810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNq_7lesDrI/AAAAAAAAACA/rXClnFOEjrk/s320/Glycines.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of my favorite paintings by Monet (although I adore most of his work) is entitled "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Glycines&lt;/span&gt;". It was painted by Monsieur Claude Monet in 1918. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would you like to read a quote from Monet? Well, it really doesn't matter if you want to or not, because I'm posting it regardless. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Le &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nuage&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; passe, la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;brise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fraîchit&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;le&lt;/span&gt; grain &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; menace &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;tombe&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;le&lt;/span&gt; vent &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; souffle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;s'abat&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;brusquement&lt;/span&gt;, la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;lumière&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;décroît&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;renaît&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;autant&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; causes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;insaisissables&lt;/span&gt; pour &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;l'oeil&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;des&lt;/span&gt; profanes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;qui&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;transforment&lt;/span&gt; la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;teinte&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;défigurent&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;les&lt;/span&gt; plans &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;d'eau&lt;/span&gt;." - Monet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Translation: The passing cloud, the cooling breeze, the sudden storm that threatens to burst and finally does, the wind that stirs and suddenly blows with full force, the light that fades and is reborn are all things, elusive to the eyes of the uninitiated, that transfigure the color and shape of the bodies of water.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-1242371059361601540?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/1242371059361601540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=1242371059361601540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1242371059361601540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1242371059361601540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/glycines.html' title='Glycines'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNq_7lesDrI/AAAAAAAAACA/rXClnFOEjrk/s72-c/Glycines.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-631572095703916123</id><published>2008-09-23T15:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T15:41:30.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Continuing of King Lear</title><content type='html'>I have finished "King Lear" by our friend, Mr. William Shakespeare.  Although a bit depressing, the play was very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Act III, Gloucester realized that Lear’s daughters have turned against their father; thus, he decided to search for Lear and aide him in any possible way, despite the fact that Regan and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; had forbidden it.  Regan and her husband, &lt;span&gt;Cornwall&lt;/span&gt;, discovered him helping Lear, accused him of treason, blinded him, and turned him out to wander the countryside.  Edgar, in disguise, finds Gloucester and leads him toward the city of Dover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Dover, a French army was stationed; Cordelia had planned an invasion, in an effort to save her father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edmund became romantically entangled with both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Goneril's&lt;/span&gt; husband, &lt;span&gt;Albany&lt;/span&gt;, became increasingly sympathetic towards Lear’s cause; thus, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Edmund conspired to murder him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The despairing Gloucester tried to commit suicide, but Edgar saved him by a strange trick:  Edgar lead his father off an imaginary cliff.   Meanwhile, the English troops reached Dover; and the English, led by Edmund, defeat the French and capture Lear and Cordelia.  Regan's husband, Cornwall, was killed in battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the climactic scene, Edgar dueled with Edmund and won.  Then it was made evident that Gloucester had died.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; then poisoned Regan out of jealousy (over Edmund) and committed suicide.  Edmund’s betrayal of Cordelia led to her needless execution in prison; and Lear past away out of grief for Cordelia’s.  Albany, Edgar, and the elderly Kent are left to take care for the country; Kent, however, declares that he will not live for much longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kent may have made his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;declaration&lt;/span&gt; because he was elderly, and thus could not live for many more years; or Kent could have been hinting that he would later commit suicide because he had to go to heaven so that he could continue to serve his king. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it interesting that Shakespeare used Animal Imagery to describe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan.  For example, when arguing with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt;, Albany &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;exclaims&lt;/span&gt;, "Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed?”  This, perhaps, could be because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan are not worthy and do not have enough compassion/ humanity to be described as human beings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another intriguing component of Shakespeare's work is that in Lear’s madness he begins to understands that he is not an important, herioc, and immortal man, but that he is a small, meaningless part of the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-631572095703916123?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/631572095703916123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=631572095703916123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/631572095703916123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/631572095703916123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/continuing-of-king-lear.html' title='Continuing of King Lear'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4172259003063670569</id><published>2008-09-22T18:25:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T18:32:58.157-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My best photo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNgb6Lwz95I/AAAAAAAAAB4/A4gfsj2odyk/s1600-h/LA5A01~1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248976052104198034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNgb6Lwz95I/AAAAAAAAAB4/A4gfsj2odyk/s320/LA5A01~1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;O.k.&lt;/span&gt;, so I lied to you. Not every picture on this blog will be by a French artist. &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This photograph was taken by me and, unfortunately, I am not French. I took this photo just outside of Red Rock Canyon (in Nevada), on April 5, 2006. This is probably the best photo I have ever taken/will take. What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4172259003063670569?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4172259003063670569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4172259003063670569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4172259003063670569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4172259003063670569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-best-photo.html' title='My best photo'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNgb6Lwz95I/AAAAAAAAAB4/A4gfsj2odyk/s72-c/LA5A01~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-8368385999788170385</id><published>2008-09-18T15:52:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T16:03:11.835-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought"</title><content type='html'>When I read the title of William Shakespeare's "When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought" I believed that I was going to be reading a poem that depicted a quiet place where one goes to be lost in peaceful, serene thoughts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading the sonnet, however, I found it to be quite bittersweet and depressing.  In actuality, the poem depicts a sorrowful person looking back upon a very sad life.  This person remembered the death of friends and love(s) that had been lost.  The narrator states that if the losses were restored (brought back) then the main character would no longer feel sorrow.  Yet, it is unlikely that those which were lost will return; thus, it is probably that the protagonist will remain sorrowful and depressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-8368385999788170385?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/8368385999788170385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=8368385999788170385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8368385999788170385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8368385999788170385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/when-to-sessions-of-sweet-silent.html' title='&quot;When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought&quot;'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4650044422601815290</id><published>2008-09-18T15:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T15:56:34.183-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Luxembourg Gardens</title><content type='html'>Robert &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Doisneau&lt;/span&gt; took this photograph in 1953 at the Luxembourg Gardens in France.  One of my favorite aspects about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Doisneau's&lt;/span&gt; work is that his photographs are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;extraordinary&lt;/span&gt; because they depict the beauty of regular people doing every-day things.  &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNKxvl8WNxI/AAAAAAAAABw/Ivf5B9ZQpPM/s1600-h/luxembourg-gardens.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247451947037243154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNKxvl8WNxI/AAAAAAAAABw/Ivf5B9ZQpPM/s320/luxembourg-gardens.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4650044422601815290?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4650044422601815290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4650044422601815290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4650044422601815290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4650044422601815290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/luxembourg-gardens.html' title='Luxembourg Gardens'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNKxvl8WNxI/AAAAAAAAABw/Ivf5B9ZQpPM/s72-c/luxembourg-gardens.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-9167769105173599424</id><published>2008-09-17T14:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T15:04:54.719-04:00</updated><title type='text'>For those who find Shakespear confusing...</title><content type='html'>During class discussions, I have found that many people get so caught up in trying to decipher Shakespeare's language that they begin to hate the story.  I, however, am not one of those people.  My amazing French teacher once gave me a piece of advice when I was having trouble translating long texts into English.  She said "Don't even try to translate this word by word.  Take a sentence and translate the meaning." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I had some difficulty reading poetry, I found this advice to be a big help.  The same is true for reading Shakespeare.  I understand that it can be very difficult to read... that's because it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; is a foreign language to us.  So, my advice to those who have difficulties with Shakespeare's writings..... take it phrase by phrase, and don't worry about each little word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-9167769105173599424?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/9167769105173599424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=9167769105173599424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/9167769105173599424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/9167769105173599424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-those-who-find-shakespear-confusing.html' title='For those who find Shakespear confusing...'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-7976658034295067880</id><published>2008-09-16T14:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T15:02:51.235-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Muses are a wonderful aide to society.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNACNSC5opI/AAAAAAAAABg/05OGKyHHr1Q/s1600-h/Minerva-with-the-Muses-Jacques-Stella-302186.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246695993092186770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNACNSC5opI/AAAAAAAAABg/05OGKyHHr1Q/s320/Minerva-with-the-Muses-Jacques-Stella-302186.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's another artsy post for everyone!  This painting is called "Minerva with the Muses".  It was painted by&lt;span &gt; &lt;span&gt;Jacques &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Stella&lt;/span&gt; during the early 1600's.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-7976658034295067880?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/7976658034295067880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=7976658034295067880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7976658034295067880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/7976658034295067880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/muses-are-wonderful-aide-to-society.html' title='Muses are a wonderful aide to society.'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SNACNSC5opI/AAAAAAAAABg/05OGKyHHr1Q/s72-c/Minerva-with-the-Muses-Jacques-Stella-302186.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-6384432849235799547</id><published>2008-09-15T17:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T18:16:01.954-04:00</updated><title type='text'>King Lear</title><content type='html'>My English class has begun to read Shakespeare's "King Lear". This play follows two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;plot lines&lt;/span&gt;; the first being about Lear, the aging king of Britain, who decided to step down from the throne and divide his kingdom among his three daughters.  First, he puts his daughters through a test, asking each to tell him how much she loves him. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan, Lear’s elder daughters, give their father flattering answers.  Cordelia, however (Lear’s youngest and favorite daughter), gives her father a different answer;  she tells him that she loves him because he is her father, and she could not love him more than that. Sadly, King Lear flies into a rage, disowns Cordelia, and leaves her without a dowry.  The King of France, who has courted Cordelia, said that he would still marry her even without her land, and she accompanied him to France, without her father’s blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lear, however, learned that he made a bad decision. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Goneril&lt;/span&gt; and Regan swiftly began to undermine the little authority that Lear had left. Unable to believe that his beloved daughters would betray him, Lear slowly goes insane. He fled his daughters’ houses to wander on a heath during a great thunderstorm, accompanied by his Fool and by Kent, a loyal nobleman in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;plot line&lt;/span&gt; describes an elderly nobleman named Gloucester.  His illegitimate son, Edmund, tricks him into believing that his legitimate son, Edgar, is trying to kill him. Fleeing the manhunt that his father has set for him, Edgar disguises himself as a crazy beggar and calls himself “Poor Tom.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is obvious in the beginning of the play that King Lear is an insecure man.  This is evident because he needed to be reassured of his importance and of his daughters' love.  Also, it is clear that King Lear does not want/need his servants for their services, but because they represent his authority and importance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, I felt that it was heart- warming when the King of France agreed to marry Cordelia even though her father had banished her, and left her without land or a dowry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-6384432849235799547?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/6384432849235799547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=6384432849235799547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6384432849235799547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/6384432849235799547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/king-lear.html' title='King Lear'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-3413232081252206946</id><published>2008-09-12T15:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T15:45:46.058-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Monet for your Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMrFzEk92FI/AAAAAAAAABQ/5pbuIMMJsik/s1600-h/bridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245222197219154002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMrFzEk92FI/AAAAAAAAABQ/5pbuIMMJsik/s320/bridge.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Well, here's a little Monet to brighten up you're day.  This piece, painted around 1899, is call "Waterloo Bridge, soleil voilé"; in English: "Waterloo Bridge, Hazy Sun".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To quote Monet, "Londres n'est pas un endroit où l'on puisse finir un travail ; on ne peut trouver deux fois le même effet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Translation:"London isn't a place where one can complete a work : you can't find the same effect twice."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-3413232081252206946?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/3413232081252206946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=3413232081252206946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3413232081252206946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/3413232081252206946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/monet-for-your-day.html' title='Monet for your Day'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMrFzEk92FI/AAAAAAAAABQ/5pbuIMMJsik/s72-c/bridge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-9020479479359617049</id><published>2008-09-12T15:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T15:35:03.863-04:00</updated><title type='text'>September 11th</title><content type='html'>In &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;remembrance&lt;/span&gt; of September 11, my class read "Try to Praise the Mutilated World".  This Adam &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Zagajweski&lt;/span&gt; poem is absolutely astounding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of my class felt that the tone of the poem was sad, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sarcastic&lt;/span&gt;, or one of pleading/urgency.  Most seemed to feel that the poem was saying that in the midst of all the bad in the world, the only good was the small things.  I, however, felt that the poem was very optimistic.  To me, the phrase 'try to praise the mutilated work' means look for the beauty in a world that isn't always beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that the poem was saying the only good left in the world is small things.... but if one takes good from the little things, everything else gets better.  For example, the strawberries in the poem.... just remembering the taste of freshly-picked strawberries can put a smile on one's face... and then if something every better happens.... say, you see an old friend that you haven't seen in 5 years.... you can appreciate it, and take great joy from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-9020479479359617049?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/9020479479359617049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=9020479479359617049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/9020479479359617049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/9020479479359617049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/september-11th.html' title='September 11th'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-1464856688056975008</id><published>2008-09-12T15:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T15:23:28.449-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ozymandias</title><content type='html'>'Percy Shelley's "Ozymandias" depicts a story told by a traveler about a decaying statue.  In pieces, the statue proves that the power of time and nature triumphs over mans' delusion of permanence.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above is a proper thematic statement, thus it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;suffices&lt;/span&gt; to say that mine was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;vague&lt;/span&gt;, to say the least. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have just one additional thing to say about Shelley's poem.  One aspect that I found striking was that the king, who was obviously powerful and disliked by the people, was immortalized in a statue; and the one who immortalized that king was simply a worker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-1464856688056975008?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/1464856688056975008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=1464856688056975008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1464856688056975008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/1464856688056975008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/ozymandias.html' title='Ozymandias'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4800906184858033083</id><published>2008-09-09T19:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T19:50:42.949-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm melting!</title><content type='html'>Tonight I was assigned to read "Ozymandias", an astounding little piece by Percy Shelley.  The first time through, it was a bit choppy and difficult to read... and the question came to mind: "What the hell is a visage?"  By the way... I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pronouncing&lt;/span&gt; it v-is-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;aaaaa&lt;/span&gt;-age (I accentuated the 'a' a little), with a semi-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;British&lt;/span&gt; accent.  Well, after consulting my handy-dandy dictionary, it turns out that visage means: the face, or the appearance.  That makes line four &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; much more poetic (no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sarcasm&lt;/span&gt; folks). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I read it the second time through, however, it flowed much more easily and it became more meaningful/ poetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to reading this poem, my class was also assigned to write a thematic statement.  Mine is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Percy Shelley's 'Ozymandias' is a poems that describes a lost civilization, buried beneath the deserts of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Egypt&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my displeasure, my teacher has forbidden the class to research this poem... so my interpretation is probably not even close to correct.  I swear, I will go into class tomorrow, and find that the poem is really about magical, flying lizards.  And after everyone hears my completely incorrect thematic statement, the professor will say to me, "You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;numb&lt;/span&gt;-nut, how did you not pick up on the symbolism for the flying lizards!" ... and then I will feel completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; and wish that I could melt into the floor tiles.  Tomorrow's going to be fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4800906184858033083?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4800906184858033083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4800906184858033083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4800906184858033083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4800906184858033083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-melting.html' title='I&apos;m melting!'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-4788771426672189909</id><published>2008-09-09T06:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T07:21:03.081-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurray for the French!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMZT0U02gnI/AAAAAAAAABA/EjnGt5kLGKo/s1600-h/largemusician.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243970974528209522" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMZT0U02gnI/AAAAAAAAABA/EjnGt5kLGKo/s320/largemusician.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In addition to critiquing literature, I will also be posting weekly doses artwork (per the request of the honorable JJ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Musician in the Rain" is an other Doisneau; it was taken between 1942 and 1948. You know what... I'm tired of telling you what I think.... what do you think about this piece?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, not all of the pieces I post will be by Doisneau (all though I can assure you that you will see more of his work), but most of the art I post will most likely be French..... there's just something about French art.... I can't get enough of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-4788771426672189909?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/4788771426672189909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=4788771426672189909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4788771426672189909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/4788771426672189909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/hurray-for-french.html' title='Hurray for the French!'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMZT0U02gnI/AAAAAAAAABA/EjnGt5kLGKo/s72-c/largemusician.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-904653005417786927</id><published>2008-09-08T19:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T16:09:17.469-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='posted by Red-head with an attitude'/><title type='text'>The Kiss by the Hotel de Ville</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMWFFbD44SI/AAAAAAAAAAw/LaRbDPoPXvs/s1600-h/Kiss+by+the+Hotel+de+Ville.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243743669352718626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMWFFbD44SI/AAAAAAAAAAw/LaRbDPoPXvs/s320/Kiss+by+the+Hotel+de+Ville.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Robert &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Doisneau&lt;/span&gt; once said, "The marvels of daily life are exciting; no movie director can arrange the unexpected that you find in the street."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I discovered &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Doisneau's&lt;/span&gt; works in my French II class, during my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sophomore&lt;/span&gt; year of High School. He is one of the most famous photographs in the world, and I find his photographs to be absolutely moving.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The photo to the left is entitled "The Kiss by the Hotel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Ville"; and it was taken in 1950. It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;exquisite&lt;/span&gt;, isn't it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-904653005417786927?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/904653005417786927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=904653005417786927' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/904653005417786927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/904653005417786927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/kiss-by-hotel-de-ville.html' title='The Kiss by the Hotel de Ville'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6OPz2N9npw/SMWFFbD44SI/AAAAAAAAAAw/LaRbDPoPXvs/s72-c/Kiss+by+the+Hotel+de+Ville.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-8289464021609326951</id><published>2008-09-08T19:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T19:16:06.617-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='posted by Red-head with an attitude'/><title type='text'>Great art means something different to everyone</title><content type='html'>Today, in English class, we continued our discussions on Barthes &lt;em&gt;The Death of the Author&lt;/em&gt;. Something my teacher told us really struck a cord with me. He said, "Don't look at literature as an artifact, but as an organic structure... don't reduce it to something that was. Art sustains itself... it lives for multiple generations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poetic guy, isn't he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his essay, Barthes says that "every text is eternally written &lt;em&gt;here and now&lt;/em&gt;". Although most classics were not written during this time period, readers should always be searching for comparisons and similarities. If one is creative, many &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;parallels&lt;/span&gt; can be found between today and many classics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One should never be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;concerned&lt;/span&gt; with what the novelist or artist wanted you to take from his/her piece. Art is interpreted... our theories about artworks depend upon who we are. Half the fun of enjoying a good novel or a spectacular painting is theorizing what the piece is really about. Take what you will... great works mean something different to everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-8289464021609326951?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/8289464021609326951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=8289464021609326951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8289464021609326951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/8289464021609326951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/great-art-means-something-different-to.html' title='Great art means something different to everyone'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1320875294491846038.post-322814661940712759</id><published>2008-09-06T18:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T19:03:55.708-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Death of the Author</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The Death of the Author &lt;/em&gt;by Roland Barthes describes his views upon literature and those who compose it.  Barthes writing is powerful, but I disagree with some of his thoughts.  For example, he says:  "[...] writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin."  I feel that this is completely untrue.  Writing can be a constructive outlet; it gives many the opportunity to organize thoughts, and in many cases it gives people voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do, however, agree with one of his main ideas: that one doesn't need to know the background/history of the author to read his/her work(s).  The language is all that is important.  Language is powerful and moving; it is the language that invokes passions, and great emotions in the reader, not the author.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1320875294491846038-322814661940712759?l=kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/feeds/322814661940712759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1320875294491846038&amp;postID=322814661940712759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/322814661940712759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1320875294491846038/posts/default/322814661940712759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kkliteraryoasis.blogspot.com/2008/09/death-of-author.html' title='The Death of the Author'/><author><name>Red-head with an attitude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654303188249644712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
