A History of Babylonia and Assyria--Volume I
Remember, beware of the 'Big Bad Wolf' no matter what its sex happens to be.The tale has been interpreted as a puberty ritual, stemming from a pre-historical origin (sometimes an origin stemming from a previous matriarchal era.) The girl, leaving home, enters a threshold state and by going through the acts of the tale, is transformed into an adult woman by the act of coming out of the wolf's belly.Red Riding Hood has also been seen as a parable of sexual maturity.
Descriptive essay about a stormy night
Michelangelo's influence is plain in the historical painting, completed in 1846 for a new government competition, and later bought by the nation, "Alfred Inciting the Saxons to Resist the Danes by Sea"; but in the main the leading influence in the early as in the later painting is that of the Venetians.
In Persia, forty miles northeast of Shiraz, once thecapital of thekingdom, there is a range of everlasting hills, composed of a marble ofdark grey limestone, which bears the name of Mount Rachmet. In front ofthis ridge, and in a semicircular hollow, there rises above the plain avast terracelike platform. Nature built this terrace in part, but manat some time erected a wall in front of it, leveled off the top, andthere built great palaces and temples. In the Middle Ages this land ofPersia became full of interest for various reasons. It had an importantcommerce with Europe, and that naturally drew men of trade from Europeinto its extensive plateaus, that were reeking with heat in summer, andequally uncomfortable in the bleak cold of winter. The commercialcontact of Persia led, also, most naturally to diplomatic intercourseof various kinds with European states, and this intercourse graduallymade the land known in some measure to the West.
It was a dark and stormy night Good writing takes ..
But there are
Richer entanglements, enthralments far
More self-destroying, leading, by degrees,
To the chief intensity: the crown of these
Is made of love and friendship, and sits high
Upon the forehead of humanity.
All its more ponderous and bulky worth
Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth
A steady splendour; but at the tip-top,
There hangs by unseen film, an orbed drop
Of light, and that is love: its influence,
Thrown in our eyes, genders a novel sense,
At which we start and fret; till in the end,
Melting into its radiance, we blend,
Mingle, and so become a part of it,
Nor with aught else can our souls interknit
So wingedly: when we combine therewith,
Life's self is nourish'd by its proper pith,
And we are nurtured like a pelican brood.
Aye, so delicious is the unsating food,
That men, who might have tower'd in the van
Of all the congregated world, to fan
And winnow from the coming step of time
All chaff of custom, wipe away all slime
Left by men-slugs and human serpentry,
Have been content to let occasion die,
Whilst they did sleep in love's elysium.
And, truly, I would rather be struck dumb,
Than speak against this ardent listlessness:
For I have ever thought that it might bless
The world with benefits unknowingly;
As does the nightingale, upperched high,
And cloister'd among cool and bunched leaves
She sings but to her love, nor e'er conceives
How tiptoe Night holds back her dark-grey hood.
Just so may love, although 'tis understood
The mere commingling of passionate breath,
Produce more than our searching witnesseth:
What I know not: but who, of men, can tell
That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell
To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail,
The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale,
The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones,
The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones,
Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet,
If human souls did never kiss and greet?"Now, if this earthly love has power to make
Men's being mortal, immortal; to shake
Ambition from their memories, and brim
Their measure of content: what merest whim,
Seems all this poor endeavour after fame,
To one, who keeps within his stedfast aim
A love immortal, an immortal too.
Look not so wilder'd; for these things are true,
And never can be born of atomies
That buzz about our slumbers, like brain-flies,
Leaving us fancy-sick.
Astormy night essay Describe a stormy night essay …
'twas too much;
Methought I fainted at the charmed touch,
Yet held my recollections, even as one
Who dives three fathoms where the waters run
Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon,
I felt upmounted in that region
Where falling stars dart their artillery forth,
And eagles struggle with the buffeting north
That balances the heavy meteor-stone;
Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone,
But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky.
Soon, as it seem'd, we left our journeying high,
And straightway into frightful eddies swoop'd;
Such as aye muster where grey time has scoop'd
Huge dens and caverns in a mountain's side;
There hollow sounds arous'd me, and I sigh'd
To faint once more by looking on my bliss
I was distracted; madly did I kiss
The wooing arms which held me, and did give
My eyes at once to death: but 'twas to live,
To take in draughts of life from the gold fount
Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count
The moments, by some greedy help that seem'd
A second self, that each might be redeem'd
And plunder'd of its load of blessedness.
Ah, desperate mortal!