Charles Dickens Essay Example for Free

Charles Dickens Essay In The Signalman, however, speed is conveyed through motion used in the story, mostly by the travelling train. Once again, the opening of the story uses dialogue, and all is written in first person creating immediacy and close tension. And though movement is both slow and quick, both speeds are used to create an air of mystery and surprise in the way they link with areas which many would not prefer to pass through. When the narrator describes his descent to come into contact with the Signalman, his zigzag decent is pictured as becoming oozier and wetter as he went down and is reluctant to come down for this stranger, resembling a decent to the unknown or to Hell. The precision of the narrators detailed descriptions was an element of surprise for this detail was not normal, and reflects the characteristics of the Signalman in his daily job as perfectionist and precisionist. He is described with many words linking to a dark motif, such as being a dark sallow man, having a dark beard, heavy eyebrows and was in place solitary and dismal. Description used by Dickens seamlessly flows from the man to the setting as if the man was part of the landscape, merged like a ghost is to its surroundings. He is also described as being lonesome, which may depict an image of insanity when his thoughts and sightings of paranormal existence are merged. The cutting itself is then described as if the narrator had left the natural world, creating an air of mystery in the situation where the tunnel has a barbarous, depressing, and forbidding air and these metaphors put emphasis on the mystery in the setting. Use of speech is varied in this short story, as opposed to The Red Room only using direct speech, whereas The Signalman uses both direct and reported speech to help flow with the descriptive elements of the story. Time is therefore important in how it is conveyed in speech, and in various sections of dialogue, Dickens uses reported speech and direct speech to help us understand which point in time we are following: the past or present. In the most part, the direct speech is used to describe the present situation, and reported speech often used to provide exposition for the reader. In the first instance, the Signalman seems to be a quiet man, where he replied (but without sound), Yes , and his speech being one of his own as to have formed his own crude ideas of its pronunciation is a suggestion that he was from a poor upbringing or one with no education. Description using reported speech also suggests that happiness and leisure in spare time is not a frequent occurrence in the Signalmans life, where he had only under certain conditions or in certain hours of the day would he be able to do anything other than attending to the bell. It is also as if the Signalman is reliant on the electric bell, where is sometimes redoubled with anxiety if he is away from the bell and thus would be less happy than as expected. Repetition of speech is also effective in the story, with the first instance being the introduction of the short story with the words Halloa! Below there! used by three entities the narrator, the spectre and the train driver towards the end of the story. It is with this repetition that Dickens uses it to drawn in a supernatural surrounding and a sense of mystery, suspense and surprise when the Signalman asks the narrator to return, but dont call out and asking whether the narrator was not compelled by any feeling or conveyed to you in any supernatural way, changing the atmosphere to one of hope and a farewell which will result in them meeting again, into a sense of doom and one farewell which may be their last. In The Red Room, repetition is used in the first room with the elderly, seemingly disfigured people to show age. Many elderly people are portrayed as being hard of hearing a connotation of their age but can also, in this short story, imply a sense of danger about the Room. The solitary description of habitat is also key, where the small box his very little associated with non-work related media and objects. The extract describing the box is also different in literary effect to The Red Room in that it describes the focal point of mystery as the Signalman, where as the Red Room is the focal point of mystery in the short story. Frequent use of commas also break up the speech, allowing reader to pause and think while the passage flows on slowly, whereas more often in The Red Room it is used to make a switch to fast-paced movement. Detail to attention is also important in describing the reason for the solitude of the Signalman, where he relies on the bell to begin his duties and twice broke off with a fallen colour to attend to the Line outside, even though no train was passing and the bell did not ring. In the text itself, the word not is emphasised in small capital letters: NOT. This emphasis provides an image whilst the reader continues to follow the passage, and if read aloud the emphasis on the word would be clearly stressed to show importance and significance. Being solitary is also a sense of timidity and lonesomeness, which seems to be descriptors of the ghost: left arm is across the face, and the right arm is waved violently waved. The use of present tense in that clause is as if he had recently come across another sighting of the spectre, or as if the presence is never-ending and thus mysterious in the situation of the unknown. Other times are described as being signs to the Signalman of other deaths which later arrived, such as the girl on the train. Look out! Look out! and Below there! give a sense of fast-paced movement because of the short clause use, and does not say who is to be looking for danger. In The Red Room, the quietness of the elderly people, the repetition of their speech, and how they seems to reside in the first room is solitary, but brings with it also a sense of mystery, as does here in The Signalman. Resisting the slow touch of a frozen finger tracing out my spine is another example of metaphorical device used by Dickens to illustrate the presence of a supernatural being or an omen of some sort. But a sense of contradiction is evident in the narrators part, where he describes himself as being unsure of ghosts and supernatural beings. He states that the Signalman seemed to make the place strike colder, implying that the man is not one indeed or has something within him, which he also earlier describes as something that daunted him. In The Red Room, however, the spectre is known to be seen as around him in the space of the room, even though he describes the spirit as being fear. Contradiction could also be seen as being evident in The Red Room, where the senior people are left inside the first room by the narrator to explore the castle further, despite them telling him not to go, yet the return to give a helping hand towards the end of the story. Both stories seems to have a sense that truth is always hidden, whether it be in lies, for example when the old people in The Red Room ask and you have seen it to the narrator; in The Signalman, the truth is hidden in the silence of the ghost and the worry from the Signalman which surfaces as a result, affecting his judgement and post. The last paragraphs of the two short stories differ in many ways, however. Though the two stories are similar in the way mystery and surprise is conveyed, the stories end in either one or the other. The Red Room concludes with a greater sense of surprise, whereas The Signalman does so with a greater sense of mystery. Surprise is conveyed in the final part of the story when it is the man with the shade who speaks last. His words utter there is Fear in that room of hers, with the female body referring to the wife of the deceased man who tried to jester her, and that this fear lives on in that room, which is an ending of surprise, not well known to many ghost stories of the time. The Signalman, however, ends in a sense of great mystery as repetition is explained and further examined by the narrator, where the gesticulation he had imitated can lead us to imply that the Signalman was indeed troubled and the precise actions were so alike in those three image shown to us through the writing by Charles Dickens as being of significance, and does not reference other coincidences. This focus poses mystery upon the whole story, but more so in this focal point, and a sense of helplessness to a solitary man seems no use and a dreadful time as described by the driver of the train. It could also be seen that the description of emerging from the tunnel is likewise to similar descriptions of near-death experiences being of a tunnel with a light at the end, or descriptions of Purgatory where the mind can be cleansed of illness, just as the Signalman was cleared of his daunting thoughts. In The Signalman, the sense of mystery is greater emphasised in the entirety of the story with the bleaker setting, whereas The Red Room owes more descriptive elements to the sense of surprise, mostly due to use of frequent punctuation and pause in the sentences. Both short stories are equal in effect for conveying, but The Red Room is more efficient in sustaining a sense of mystery and surprise in that the use of vocabulary and repetition and motifs are far more effective, as well as more literary techniques being used more frequently in this text and the Dickens text. In The Signalman, the descriptions of place and events convey separate areas of mystery and surprise, but not sustain as clearly as H. G. Wells, and the use of speech breaks up the sense of mystery as it can sometimes be misleading in the events. Matthew Chew 10P Name: Matthew Chew Form: 10P Set: 2 Date: 21st December 2009 Title: With detailed reference to The Signalman by Charles Dickens and The Red Room by H. G. Wells, compare the ways in which the two writers sustain/convey an air of mystery and surprise in the two short stories. Texts: The Red Room by H. G. Wells; The Signalman by Charles Dickens. Show preview only The above preview is unformatted text This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Miscellaneous section.

The Debate :: Personal Narrative Essays

The Debate      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Memory can be so fickle.   Like some great book that is slowly loosing its pages, you begin with an entire novel full of details and descriptions and, if you're not careful, you end up with nothing more than the cover and the brief synopsis on the back page.   My novel on the subject of the end of summer school debate has lost its share of pages but the back-cover synopsis, the essence of the entire experience, is still with me.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   â€Å"We are about to begin our annual debating tournament,† the instructor beamed with an enthusiasm that let each of us know how happy he was that we had made it this far.   â€Å"It will be the culmination of your six weeks of learning and will count as a considerable part of your grade for the course.   We will begin at eight tomorrow morning.   Get some practice, get some sleep, see you there.†      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   I don't know what drew me to the course but I can remember my parents telling me they felt I should go to summer school.   I was opposed to the concept of summer school right up to the moment I was issued the dictum â€Å"go to school or get a job†, at which point I became the world's greatest advocate of off-season learning.   Besides, I was only fifteen and the workplace just wasn't ready for me.   So I thumbed through the course book, singing a chorus of no's until I arrived on the Debate and Public Speaking page.   There resided a large photograph of a boy confidently standing behind an ornate podium, clearly frozen in the middle of some captivating and influential argument.   I read the passage describing the course and was immediately sold.   How could a stuffy math class or a trivial course in art compare to â€Å"a course that teaches students the skills and techniques of competitive debate, culminating in a week long tournament?† So I filled out the forms and mailed them and before I knew It I was sitting in a lecture hall, learning the skills and techniques of competitive debate.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   As I have said, I was only fifteen and perhaps this debating course was not yet ready for me either.   I was both the youngest and least experienced of the lot.   Little could be done to gain ground on the former adversity, but I set about rectifying th latter by filling a notebook with all the wisdom that the teacher could impart to us during the hour long periods.   When it was time for The Debate :: Personal Narrative Essays The Debate      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Memory can be so fickle.   Like some great book that is slowly loosing its pages, you begin with an entire novel full of details and descriptions and, if you're not careful, you end up with nothing more than the cover and the brief synopsis on the back page.   My novel on the subject of the end of summer school debate has lost its share of pages but the back-cover synopsis, the essence of the entire experience, is still with me.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   â€Å"We are about to begin our annual debating tournament,† the instructor beamed with an enthusiasm that let each of us know how happy he was that we had made it this far.   â€Å"It will be the culmination of your six weeks of learning and will count as a considerable part of your grade for the course.   We will begin at eight tomorrow morning.   Get some practice, get some sleep, see you there.†      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   I don't know what drew me to the course but I can remember my parents telling me they felt I should go to summer school.   I was opposed to the concept of summer school right up to the moment I was issued the dictum â€Å"go to school or get a job†, at which point I became the world's greatest advocate of off-season learning.   Besides, I was only fifteen and the workplace just wasn't ready for me.   So I thumbed through the course book, singing a chorus of no's until I arrived on the Debate and Public Speaking page.   There resided a large photograph of a boy confidently standing behind an ornate podium, clearly frozen in the middle of some captivating and influential argument.   I read the passage describing the course and was immediately sold.   How could a stuffy math class or a trivial course in art compare to â€Å"a course that teaches students the skills and techniques of competitive debate, culminating in a week long tournament?† So I filled out the forms and mailed them and before I knew It I was sitting in a lecture hall, learning the skills and techniques of competitive debate.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   As I have said, I was only fifteen and perhaps this debating course was not yet ready for me either.   I was both the youngest and least experienced of the lot.   Little could be done to gain ground on the former adversity, but I set about rectifying th latter by filling a notebook with all the wisdom that the teacher could impart to us during the hour long periods.   When it was time for

The Twilight Saga 4: Breaking Dawn 3. BIG DAY

My own eyes flew open. I lay shivering and gasping in my warm bed for several minutes, trying to break free of the dream. The sky outside my window turned gray and then pale pink while I waited for my heart to slow. When I was fully back to the reality of my messy, familiar room, I was a little annoyed with myself. What a dream to have the night before my wedding! That's what I got for obsessing over disturbing stories in the middle of the night. Eager to shake off the nightmare, I got dressed and headed down to the kitchen long before I needed to. First I cleaned the already tidy rooms, and then when Charlie was up I made him pancakes. I was much too keyed up to have any interest in eating breakfast myself – I sat bouncing in my seat while he ate. â€Å"You're picking up Mr. Weber at three o'clock,† I reminded him. â€Å"I don't have that much to do today besides bring the minister, Bells. I'm not likely to forget my only job.† Charlie had taken the entire day off for the wedding, and he was definitely at loose ends. Now and then, his eyes flickered furtively to the closet under the stairs, where he kept his fishing gear. â€Å"That's not your only job. You also have to be dressed and presentable.† He scowled into his cereal bowl and muttered the words â€Å"monkey suit† under his breath. There was a brisk tapping on the front door. â€Å"You think you have it bad,† I said, grimacing as I rose. â€Å"Alice will be working on me all day long.† Charlie nodded thoughtfully, conceding that he did have the lesser ordeal. I ducked in to kiss the top of his head as I passed – he blushed and harrumphed – and then continued on to get the door for my best girlfriend and soon-to-be sister. Alice's short black hair was not in its usual spiky do – it was smoothed into sleek pin curls around her pixie face, which wore a contrastingly businesslike expression. She dragged me from the house with barely a â€Å"Hey, Charlie† called over her shoulder. Alice appraised me as I got into her Porsche. â€Å"Oh, hell, look at your eyes!† She tsked in reproach. â€Å"What did you do? Stay up all night?† â€Å"Almost.† She glowered. â€Å"I've only allotted so much time to make you stunning, Bella – you might have taken better care of my raw material.† â€Å"No one expects me to be stunning. I think the bigger problem is that I might fall asleep during the ceremony and not be able to say 1 do' at the right part, and then Edward will make his escape.† She laughed. â€Å"I'll throw my bouquet at you when it gets close.† â€Å"Thanks.† â€Å"At least you'll have plenty of time to sleep on the plane tomorrow.† I raised one eyebrow. Tomorrow, I mused. If we were heading out tonight after the reception, and we would still be on a plane tomorrow†¦ well, we weren't going to Boise, Idaho. Edward hadn't dropped a single hint. I wasn't too stressed about the mystery, but it was strange not knowing where I would be sleeping tomorrow night. Or hopefully not sleeping †¦ Alice realized that she'd given something away, and she frowned. â€Å"You're all packed and ready,† she said to distract me. It worked. â€Å"Alice, I wish you would let me pack my own things!† â€Å"It would have given too much away.† â€Å"And denied you an opportunity to shop.† â€Å"You'll be my sister officially in ten short hours†¦ it's about time to get over this aversion to new clothes.† I glowered groggily out the windshield until we were almost to the house. â€Å"Is he back yet?† I asked. â€Å"Don't worry, he'll be there before the music starts. But you don't get to see him, no matter when he gets back. We're doing this the traditional way.† I snorted. â€Å"Traditional!† â€Å"Okay, aside from the bride and groom.† â€Å"You know he's already peeked.† â€Å"Oh no – that's why I'm the only one who's seen you in the dress. I've been very careful to not think about it when he's around.† â€Å"Well,† I said as we turned into the drive, â€Å"I see you got to reuse your graduation decorations.† Three miles of drive were once again wrapped in hundreds of thousands of twinkle lights. This time, she'd added white satin bows. â€Å"Waste not, want not. Enjoy this, because you don't get to see the inside decorations until it's time.† She pulled into the cavernous garage north of the main house; Emmett's big Jeep was still gone. â€Å"Since when is the bride not allowed to see the decorations?† I protested. â€Å"Since she put me in charge. I want you to get the full impact coming down the stairs.† She clapped her hand over my eyes before she let me inside the kitchen. I was immediately assailed by the scent. â€Å"What is that?† I wondered as she guided me into the house. â€Å"Is it too much?† Alice's voice was abruptly worried. â€Å"You're the first human in here; I hope I got it right.† â€Å"it smells wonderful!† I assured her – almost intoxicating, but not at all overwhelming, the balance of the different fragrances was subtle and flawless. â€Å"Orange blossoms†¦ lilac†¦ and something else – am I right?† â€Å"Very good, Bella. You only missed the freesia and the roses.† She didn't uncover my eyes until we were in her oversized bathroom. I stared at the long counter, covered in all the paraphernalia of a beauty salon, and began to feel my sleepless night. â€Å"Is this really necessary? I'm going to look plain next to him no matter what.† She pushed me down into a low pink chair. â€Å"No one will dare to call you plain when I'm through with you.† â€Å"Only because they're afraid you'll suck their blood,† I muttered. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes, hoping I'd be able to nap through it. I did drift in and out a little bit while she masked, buffed, and polished every surface of my body. It was after lunchtime when Rosalie glided past the bathroom door in a shimmery silver gown with her golden hair piled up in a soft crown on top of her head. She was so beautiful it made me want to cry. What was even the point of dressing up with Rosalie around? â€Å"They're back,† Rosalie said, and immediately my childish fit of despair passed. Edward was home. â€Å"Keep him out of here!† â€Å"He won't cross you today,† Rosalie reassured her. â€Å"He values his life too much. Esme's got them finishing things up out back. Do you want some help? I could do her hair.† My jaw fell open. I floundered around in my head, trying to remember how to close it. I had never been Rosalie's favorite person in the world. Then, making things even more strained between us, she was personally offended by the choice I was making now. Though she had her impossible beauty, her loving family, and her soul mate in Emmett, she would have traded it all to be human. And here I was, callously throwing away everything she wanted in life like it was garbage. It didn't exactly warm her to me. â€Å"Sure,† Alice said easily. â€Å"You can start braiding. I want it intricate. The veil goes here, underneath.† Her hands started combing through my hair, hefting it, twisting it, illustrating in detail what she wanted. When she was done, Rosalie's hands replaced hers, shaping my hair with a feather-light touch. Alice moved back to my face. Once Rosalie received Alice's commendation on my hair, she was sent off to retrieve my dress and then to locate Jasper, who had been dispatched to pick up my mother and her husband, Phil, from their hotel. Downstairs, I could faintly hear the door opening and closing over and over. Voices began to float up to us. Alice made me stand so that she could ease the dress over my hair and makeup. My knees shook so badly as she fastened the long line of pearl buttons up my back that the satin quivered in little wavelets down to the floor. â€Å"Deep breaths, Bella/7Alice said. â€Å"And try to lower your heart rate. You're going to sweat off your new face.† I gave her the best sarcastic expression I could manage. â€Å"I'll get right on that.† â€Å"I have to get dressed now. Can you hold yourself together for two minutes?† â€Å"Urn†¦ maybe?† She rolled her eyes and darted out the door. I concentrated on my breathing, counting each movement of my lungs, and stared at the patterns that the bathroom light made on the shiny fabric of my skirt. I was afraid to look in the mirror – afraid the image of myself in the wedding dress would send me over the edge into a full-scale panic attack. Alice was back before I had taken two hundred breaths, in a dress that flowed down her slender body like a silvery waterfall. â€Å"Alice – wow.† â€Å"It's nothing. No one will be looking at me today. Not while you're in the room.† â€Å"Har har.† â€Å"Now, are you in control of yourself, or do I have to bring Jasper up here?† â€Å"They're back? Is my mom here?† â€Å"She just walked in the door. She's on her way up.† Renee had flown in two days ago, and I'd spent every minute I could with her – every minute that I could pry her away from Esme and the decorations, in other words. As far as I could tell, she was having more fun with this than a kid locked inside Disneyland overnight. In a way, I felt almost as cheated as Charlie. All that wasted terror over her reaction†¦ â€Å"Oh, Bella!† she squealed now, gushing before she was all the way through the door. â€Å"Oh, honey, you're so beautiful! Oh, I'm going to cry! Alice, you're amazing! You and Esme should go into business as wedding planners. Where did you find this dress? It's gorgeous! So graceful, so elegant. Bella, you look like you just stepped out of an Austen movie.† My mother's voice sounded a little distance away, and everything in the room was slightly blurry. â€Å"Such a creative idea, designing the theme around Bella's ring. So romantic! To think it's been in Edward's family since the eighteen hundreds!† Alice and I exchanged a brief conspiratorial look. My mom was off on the dress style by more than a hundred years. The wedding wasn't actually centered around the ring, but around Edward himself. There was a loud, gruff throat-clearing in the doorway. â€Å"Renee, Esme said it's time you got settled down there,† Charlie said. â€Å"Well, Charlie, don't you look dashing!† Renee said in a tone that was almost shocked. That might have explained the crustiness of Charlie's answer. â€Å"Alice got to me.† â€Å"Is it really time already?† Renee said to herself, sounding almost as nervous as I felt. â€Å"This has all gone so fast. I feel dizzy.† That made two of us. â€Å"Give me a hug before I go down/7Renee insisted. â€Å"Carefully now, don't tear anything.† My mother squeezed me gently around the waist, then wheeled for the door, only to complete the spin and face me again. â€Å"Oh goodness, I almost forgot! Charlie, Where's the box?† My dad rummaged in his pockets for a minute and then produced a small white box, which he handed to Renee. Renee lifted the lid and held it out to me. â€Å"Something blue,† she said. â€Å"Something old, too. They were your Grandma Swan's,† Charlie added. â€Å"We had a jeweler replace the paste stones with sapphires.† Inside the box were two heavy silver hair combs. Dark blue sapphires were clustered into intricate floral shapes atop the teeth. My throat got all thick. â€Å"Mom, Dad†¦ you shouldn't have.† â€Å"Alice wouldn't let us do anything else,† Renee said. â€Å"Every time we tried, she all but ripped our throats out.† A hysterical giggle burst through my lips. Alice stepped up and quickly slid both combs into my hair under the edge of the thick braids. â€Å"That's something old and something blue,† Alice mused, taking a few steps back to admire me. â€Å"And your dress is new†¦ so here – â€Å" She flicked something at me. I held my hands out automatically, and the filmy white garter landed in my palms. â€Å"That's mine and I want it back,† Alice told me. I blushed. â€Å"There,† Alice said with satisfaction. â€Å"A little color – that's all you needed. You are officially perfect.† With a little self-congratulatory smile, she turned to my parents. â€Å"Renee, you need to get downstairs.† â€Å"Yes, ma'am.† Renee blew me a kiss and hurried out the door. â€Å"Charlie, would you grab the flowers, please?† While Charlie was out of the room, Alice hooked the garter out of my hands and then ducked under my skirt. I gasped and tottered as her cold hand caught my ankle; she yanked the garter into place. She was back on her feet before Charlie returned with the two frothy white bouquets. The scent of roses and orange blossom and freesia enveloped me in a soft mist. Rosalie – the best musician in the family next to Edward – began playing the piano downstairs. Pachelbel's Canon. I began hyperventilating. â€Å"Easy, Bells,† Charlie said. He turned to Alice nervously. â€Å"She looks a little sick. Do you think she's going to make it?† His voice sounded far away. I couldn't feel my legs. â€Å"She'd better.† Alice stood right in front of me, on her tiptoes to better stare me in the eye, and gripped my wrists in her hard hands. â€Å"Focus, Bella. Edward is waiting for you down there.† 1 took a deep breath, willing myself into composure. The music slowly morphed into a new song. Charlie nudged me. â€Å"Bells, we're up to bat.† â€Å"Bella?† Alice asked, still holding my gaze. â€Å"Yes,† I squeaked. â€Å"Edward. Okay.† I let her pull me from the room, with Charlie tagging along at my elbow. The music was louder in the hall. It floated up the stairs along with the fragrance of a million flowers. I concentrated on the idea of Edward waiting below to get my feet to shuffle forward. The music was familiar, Wagner's traditional march surrounded by a flood of embellishments. â€Å"It's my turn,† Alice chimed. â€Å"Count to five and follow me.† She began a slow, graceful dance down the staircase. I should have realized that having Alice as my only bridesmaid was a mistake. I would look that much more uncoordinated coming behind her. A sudden fanfare trilled through the soaring music. I recognized my cue. â€Å"Don't let me fall, Dad,† I whispered. Charlie pulled my hand through his arm and then grasped it tightly. One step ata time, I told myself as we began to descend to the slow tempo of the march. I didn't lift my eyes until my feet were safely on the flat ground, though I could hear the murmurs and rustling of the audience as I came into view. Blood flooded my cheeks at the sound; of course I could be counted on to be the blushing bride. As soon as my feet were past the treacherous stairs, I was looking for him. For a brief second, I was distracted by the profusion of white blossoms that hung in garlands from everything in the room that wasn't alive, dripping with long lines of white gossamer ribbons. But I tore my eyes from the bowery canopy and searched across the rows of satin-draped chairs – blushing more deeply as I took in the crowd of faces all focused on me – until I found him at last, standing before an arch overflowing with more flowers, more gossamer. I was barely conscious that Carlisle stood by his side, and Angela's father behind them both. I didn't see my mother where she must have been sitting in the front row, or my new family, or any of the guests – they would have to wait till later. All I really saw was Edward's face; it filled my vision and overwhelmed my mind. His eyes were a buttery, burning gold; his perfect face was almost severe with the depth of his emotion. And then, as he met my awed gaze, he broke into a breathtaking smile of exultation. Suddenly, it was only the pressure of Charlie's hand on mine that kept me from sprinting headlong down the aisle. The march was too slow as I struggled to pace my steps to its rhythm. Mercifully, the aisle was very short. And then, at last, at last, I was there. Edward held out his hand. Charlie took my hand and, in a symbol as old as the world, placed it in Edward's. I touched the cool miracle of his skin, and I was home. Our vows were the simple, traditional words that had been spoken a million times, though never by a couple quite like us. We'd asked Mr. Weber to make only one small change. He obligingly traded the line â€Å"till death do us part† for the more appropriate â€Å"as long as we both shall live.† In that moment, as the minister said his part, my world, which had been upside down for so long now, seemed to settle into its proper position. I saw just how silly I'd been for fearing this – as if it were an unwanted birthday gift or an embarrassing exhibition, like the prom. I looked into Edward's shining, triumphant eyes and knew that I was winning, too. Because nothing else mattered but that I could stay withhim. I didn't realize I was crying until it was time to say the binding words. â€Å"I do,† I managed to choke out in a nearly unintelligible whisper, blinking my eyes clear so I could see his face. When it was his turn to speak, the words rang clear and victorious. â€Å"I do,† he vowed. Mr. Weber declared us husband and wife, and then Edward's hands reached up to cradle my face, carefully, as if it were as delicate as the white petals swaying above our heads. I tried to comprehend, through the film of tears blinding me, the surreal fact that this amazing person was mine. His golden eyes looked as if they would have tears, too, if such a thing were not impossible. He bent his head toward mine, and I stretched up on the tips of my toes, throwing my arms – bouquet and all – around his neck. He kissed me tenderly, adoringly; I forgot the crowd, the place, the time, the reason†¦ only remembering that he loved me, that he wanted me, that I was his. He began the kiss, and he had to end it; I clung to him, ignoring the titters and the throat-clearing in the audience. Finally, his hands restrained my face and he pulled back – too soon – to look at me. On the surface his sudden smile was amused, almost a smirk. But underneath his momentary entertainment at my public exhibition was a deep joy that echoed my own. The crowd erupted into applause, and he turned our bodies to face our friends and family. I couldn't look away from his face to see them. My mother's arms were the first to find me, her tear-streaked face the first thing I saw when I finally tore my eyes unwillingly from Edward. And then I was handed through the crowd, passed from embrace to embrace, only vaguely aware of who held me, my attention centered on Edward's hand clutched tightly in my own. I did recognize the difference between the soft, warm hugs of my human friends and the gentle, cool embraces of my new family. One scorching hug stood out from all the others – Seth Clearwater had braved the throng of vampires to stand in for my lost werewolf friend.

Factors That Influenced Harry S. Truman to Launch the...

The discussion on what motives affected Harry S. Truman’s decision to launch atomic weapons against Imperial Japan remains undecided. The debate on whether domestic, diplomatic, military, or moral factors affected him most substantially seems to be clearly established in the writings of Robert James Maddox. Although many aspects go into making important decisions, the one that appeared to persuade Truman the most was strictly military influence. By people such as MacArthur, Truman was seen as only a civilian not properly suited to reside over all of the armed forces as the Commander in Chief. This idea of Truman seemed false when he was faced with disputes. Truman’s train of thought frequently came across as if he was thinking strictly from a military stand point. â€Å"I have to decide Japanese strategy –shall we invade Japan proper or shall we bomb and blockade? That is my hardest decision to date. But I’ll make it when I have all the facts.† (Maddox, 168) This statement shows that even though Truman was considering other aspects, such as moral standards, to make his decision, the main goal he was focused on was the strategy of his enemy and the tactics with which he would retaliate. This made it apparent that he was operating with a battle mindset, one usually only found in a man highly concerned with militia maneuvers. Truman was found acting under the recognition of how his men would be affected by his decisions. He demonstrated his concern when he fired MacArthur forShow MoreRelatedOne Significant Change That Has Occurred in the World Between 1900 and 2005. Explain the Impact This Change Has Made on Our Lives and Why It Is an Important Change.163893 Words   |  656 Pagessuperpowers and the transition to a new century and millennium. Hecht and Edwards underscore the vital connections between the genesis of and incessant innovations in computer technologies and the development of both nuclear power generators and atomic weaponry, and they also examine the ways that advances in these enmeshed fields of scientific and technological endeavor became emblematic in the cold war decades of national power and prestige, as well as symbols of modernity itself. They go wellRead MoreStephen P. Robbins Timothy A. Judge (2011) Organizational Behaviour 15th Edition New Jersey: Prentice Hall393164 Words   |  1573 Pagesand permission should be obtained from the publisher prior to any prohibited reproduction, storage in a retrieval system, or transmission in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or likewise. To obtain permission(s) to use material from this work, please submit a written request to Pearson Education, Inc., Permissions Department, One Lake Street, Upper Saddle River, New Jersey 07458, or you may fax your request to 201-236-3290. Many of the designations by manufacturers