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Zweiter Band. German Tahiti. Erster Band. The Satires of A. Mary Blaize English Pinnock's improved edition of Dr. Goldsmith's History of Rome — to which is prefixed an introduction to the study of Roman history, and a great variety of valuable information added throughout the work, on the manners, institutions, and antiquities of the Romans; with numerous biographical and historical notes; and questions for examination at the end of each section.

Gongsun Longzi???? Isabella Graham. English Graham, J. Stand to! Grant, Part 1. Grant, Part 2. Grant, Part 3. Grant, Part 4. Grant, Part 5. Grant, Part 6. English Personal Memoirs of General U. Narrative of the Life of J. English Green, J. LXX, Dec. Aventures de Monsieur Pickwick, Vol.


Afar in the Forest English as Illustrator Charge! In Three Volumes. Howard Benjamin , Aliens or Americans? Wang, Xu??? Prometheus ontboeid Een lyrisch drama in vier bedrijven Dutch as Translator Gutzkow, Karl, de.

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Don't have an account? Currency and addition of Tax VAT depend on your shipping address. A Bibliographical History. Volume 9 Western and Southern Europe Authors: David Thomas and John Chesworth. Add to Cart. Have an Access Token? Enter your access token to activate and access content online. Any doubts about that surely dissolve in the meditations of one female character as she considers the possibility of reappearance, the return of the women shot by the men of the township. Which is to say she hoped for a miracle.

Etiquetas: Literatura , norteamericana , Morrison. A comedy by William Wycherley, Etiquetas: Literatura , inglesa , Teatro , Wycherley. Etiquetas: Teatro , Literatura , inglesa , Congreve. Wilde's most dazzling and epigrammatic work, it describes the courtships and betrothals of two young men about town, John Worthing Jack and Algernon Algy Moncrieff, who are in pursuit respectively of Gwendolen Fairfax Algy's cousin and Jack's ward, Cecily Cardew. Both young men lead double lives, in that Jack is known in town under the name of Ernest, while representing to his ward Cecily in the country that he has a wicked brother Ernest.

Algy, to cover his own diversions, has created a fictitious character, the sickly Bunbury, whose ill health requires a visit whenever engagements in town particularly those with his formidable aunt Lady Bracknell render his absence desirable. After many confusions of identity, during which it transpires that Cecily's governess, Miss Prism, had once mislaid Jack as a baby in a handbag at Victoria Station, it is revealed that Jack and Algy are in fact brothers, and that Jack's name is indeed Ernest.

All objections, both financial and genealogical, to both matches, are thus overcome and Gwendolen's addiction to the very name of 'Ernest' is satisfied, so all ends happily. Etiquetas: Teatro , Literatura , inglesa , Wilde. Etiquetas: Fotos , Hojas. Etiquetas: Teatro , Literatura , inglesa , Shaw. By George Bernard Shaw. La pesadilla insensata que es la vida del rico la describe la Paciente en el acto III "I was devoured by parasites: by tourist agencies, steamboat companies, railways, motor car people, hotel keepers, dressmakers, servants, all trying to get my money by selling me things I dont really want; shoving me all over the globe to look at what they call new skies, though they know as well as I do that it is only the same old sky everywhere; and disabling me by doing all the things for me that I ought to do for myself to keep myself in health.

They preyed on me to keep themselves alive: they pretended they were making me happy when it was only by drinking and drugging--cocktails and cocaine--that I could endure my life. To date, 21 strains of the measles virus have been identified. While at Merck, Maurice Hilleman developed the first successful vaccine. Licensed vaccines to prevent the disease became available in But it works. Otra verdad inconventiente dice la "Paciente" Miss Mopply; que los tres estafadores no son sino "inefficient fertilizers. We do nothing but convert good food into bad manure. Wells y al creciente pesimismo de estos Fabianos al final de su vida: el Sargento, en el acto III : "What must we do to be saved?

And all the comfort they get is "Flee from the wrath to come. There they are, meeting at Geneva or hobnobbing at Chequers over the weekend, asking one another, like the man in the book, "Whither must we flee? The man in the book says "Do you see yonder shining light?

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We werent even killing the wrong people. It was innocent men killing one another. Y la Sra Mopply, madre de la paciente, se libera del mundo de mentiras en que ha vivido toda su vida, fingiendo ficciones convenientes, y de su papel de madre sacrificada y sufridora:. The U. Everybody wants to go there now, sir. My play is arranged accordingly. Etiquetas: Literatura , inglesa , Teatro , Shaw , Anclaje , narrativo. Etiquetas: Navidades , Nenas. La necesidad de autoestima puede ser exagerada hasta la estupidez, pero existe siempre.

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Etiquetas: Fotos , Zaragoza. Este blog va de actualidad—no de la actualidad de la actualidad en general, sino de mi actualidad para eso es un blog personal. Hay que hacerse la de uno mismo. Etiquetas: ResearchGate , Repositorios , Redes , sociales. Etiquetas: Fotos , Reflejos. Etiquetas: Teatro , Literatura , inglesa , Victorianos.

Etiquetas: Fotos , Hojas , Reflejos. Pero me la compro, y la veo, y la recomiendo. Etiquetas: Literatura , Teatro , Pinero. Etiquetas: Teatro , Literatura , inglesa. Etiquetas: Fotos , Estatuas , Zaragoza. Etiquetas: Literatura , Teatro , Pinter. Etiquetas: Literatura , inglesa , Thomson. Una escena de The Pirates of Penzance, de Gilbert y Sullivan , sobre eso de enviar soldados a la guerra a cubrirse de gloria Etiquetas: Fotos , Patos. Etiquetas: Diario. Etiquetas: Fotos , Recuerdos. Etiquetas: Literatura , Milton , Graves. Etiquetas: Fotos , Despacho. Etiquetas: Literatura , Gibson.

Etiquetas: Fotos , Zaragoza , Ciudad. Blog creado con Blogia. Select Search Engine En marcha hacia ninguna parte. Martes, 01 de Enero de Narrative perspective and psychological realism: On Henry James's theory of the novel. Viernes, 04 de Enero de Whose woods these are I think I know.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. Describing the time he and a neighboring farmer spent the day in replacing fallen stones on the wall which divides their land, the poet declares, "Something there is that doesn't love a wall. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out. Warren and Mary, a farmer and his wife, discuss the return of Silas, an aged farmhand who has worked for them often in the past, always wandering off when other employment offered itself, and coming "home" at tims of difficulty.

Warren wants to dismiss him, but Mary describes the poignant contrast between his former proud competence and his present broken helath, loneliness, and pitiful eagerness to serve. She tells of his infirm mind, which she thinks a sign of approaching death, and her husband is moved to reconsider. Whan he enters the house to talk with Silas, he discovers the old man dead.

An experienced farmhand tells a "town-bred farmer" of the pride his fellows take in their competence, and the resulting code:. The hand that knows his business won't be told To do work better or faster—those two things. For illustration he describes an incident that took place when he worked for a certain Sanders, of Salem, a prodigious worker himself. They were engaged in unloading a wagon of hay, and Sanders, made the mistake, while standing below to pile th load, of saying to the hand on the wagon, "Let her come!

Sanders extricated himself, and showed that he recognized the justice of his employee's act:. He knew I did just right. The poet suggests a cosmic symbol in his discovery of a weathered, long-abandoned cord of maple, "cut and split and piled," held from being scattered by a growing tree on one side and on the other "a stake and prop, these latter about to fall.

The incompatibility of a New England farm couple is revealed in the tragic conflict between them following the death of their only child. The husband has buried the child in the nearby family plot, and the wife becomes obsessed by his seemingly unfeeling attitude. Oppressed by loneliness, she comes to hate him and now feels that the transitoriness of his grief is a further proof the "the world's evil.

I will! A lonely, overworked New England farm wife talks with a visiting naturalist, and through her eager conversation reveals the tragic story of her life. Reared in a loveless family, in which her mother's life had been embittered by the necessity of caring for an obscenely mad brother-in-law, she herself had been influenced for a time by the inherited strain of insanity, and welcomed the opportunity to marry Len, the unfeeling husband who neglects her for his many business enterprises.

Though she craves personal freedom, love, and the touch of beauty, she is burdened by innumerable menial tasks, including the feeding of the brutal farmhands, whose "servant" she has become. The poet tells how the course of his life was determined when he came upon two roads that diverged in a wood. Forced to choose, he "took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. The poet describes his boyhood pleasure in climbing birch trees, swinging from the tops until the supple trunks bent in a curve to the ground.

He dreams of being again "a swinger of birches," and finds in this occupation a symbol for his desired surcease from "considerations," in which he might. Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again, That would be good both going and coming back. Brad McLaughlin's "life-long curiosity About our place among the infinities" culminates in his burning his house down for the insurance, to buy a telescope.

He earns a living as a railroad ticket agent and uses his leisure "for star-gazing" through his glass, "the Star-splitter. Although others commonly misunderstand it as "Mabel," Maple, the name of a New England girl, given her at birth by her dying mother, guides her life and endows her with a mysterious poetic quality. Her father is unable or unwilling to make clear the intended meaning, and Maple is able to find only partial clues, but the man she marries discerns her kinship with the spirit of the trees, and they share this secret as a motive of their love.

The poet, chopping wood, is interrupted by a neighboring farmer, the Frenchman Baptiste, who objects to his using an inferior machine-made axe-helve. He promises him a good hickory helve of his own cutting, and that evening the poet visits Baptiste's home, meeting his sociable wife, who speaks no English. He talks with the earnest workman, who proves to be a conscientiouss laborer who knows "how to make a short job long for love of it," and insists that his children shall not attend school, asserting the superiority of his own proud independence and appreciation of such essential things as the materials of a properly durable axe-helve.

In this familiar monologue, the poet presents a witty defense of his manner of life and philosophic attitude. He describes New Hampshire as "one of the two best states in the Union. Vermont's the other," and as a compact community ahving "one each of everything as in a show-case.

domingo, 24 de enero de 2016

A pair of lovers climb a wooded mountain, and at the approach of night prepare to turn back but are halted on seeing a doe staring at them across a fence. The spell broken when she calmly walks off, they are about to go on again, but are stopped a second time by the appearance in the same place of "an antlered buck of lusty nostril" who "viewed them quizzically with jerks of head. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.

The woods of Arcady are dead And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Grey Truth is now her painted toy. Marjorie Perloff on "Easter ". Modernist poetry and criticism: T. The true critic is a scrupulous avoider of formulae: he refrains from statements which pretend to be literally true. He finds fact nowhere and approximations always. His truths are the truths of experience rather than of calculation.

Whereas if we approach a poet without this prejudice we shall often find that not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously. The historical sense, which is a sense of the timeless as well as of the temporal and of the timeless and of the temporal together, is what makes a writer traditional. And it is at the same time what makes a writer most acutely conscious of his place in time, of his own contemporaneity.

No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relations to the dead poets and artists. The existing monuments form an ideal order among themselves, which is modified by the introduction of the new the really new work of art among them. The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all.

And emotions which he has never experienced will serve his turn as well as those familiar to him. In fact the bad poet is usually unconscious where he ought to be conscious and conscious where he ought to be unconscious. Both errors tend to make him "personal. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things. The Meaning of a Poem 4. Organic Structure 4. The Objective Correlative. The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.

The metaphysical poets represent this fusion to perfection. The poet must both feel and sense his thought. Diction 6. Myth and Symbol 6. The use of convention. The poet must become more comprehensive, more allusive, more indirect, in order to force, to dislocate if necessary, language into his meaning. It is not sufficient to 'look into our hearts and write'. One must look into the cerebral cortex, the nervous system, and the digestive tracts. Qua work of art, the work of art cannot be interpreted; there is nothing to interpret, we can only criticize it according to standards, in comparison to other works of art; and for "interpretation" the chief task is the presentation of relevant historical facts which the reader is not assumed to know.

Literary criticism should be completed by criticism from a definite ethical and theological standpoint. The 'greatness' of literature cannot be determined solely by literary standards; though we must remember that whether it is literature or not can be determined only by literary standards. When the doctrine, theory, belief, or 'view of life' presented in the poem is one which the reader can accept as coherent, mature, and founded on the facts of experience, it interposes no obstacle to the reader's enjoyment, whether it be one that he can accept or deny approve or deprecate.

The maturity of a work of art is its inclusiveness, its awareness of complexity, and. An incoherent, immature, 'unreal' poem is a bad poem aesthetically. He embraced a double standard which dissolved the unity of the work of art as well as the sensibility that goes into its making and the critical act itself. Works cited Eliot, T. Selected Essays.

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London: Faber and Faber, Sampson, George. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, Eliot London: Jonathan Cape, Literary Criticism: A Short History. New York: Knopf; London: Routledge, Domingo, 06 de Enero de I will be his conduct. Were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry 'All hail! God save the King! Will no man say amen? Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, amen. To do what service am I sent for hither? Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. I thought you had been willing to resign. My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine.

Part of your cares you give me with your crown. Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. Are you contented to resign the crown? God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee! What more remains? Must I do so? Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see. Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. The Commons will not, then, be satisfied.

They shall be satisfied. No deeper wrinkles yet? Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Shall I obtain it? Name it, fair cousin. Fair cousin! Being so great, I have no need to beg. Yet ask. And shall I have? You shall. Then give me leave to go. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. O, good! Lords, prepare yourselves. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. Lunes, 07 de Enero de Las peculiaridades de la labor del profesor universitario han de ser tenidas en cuenta a la hora de valorar su cumplimiento,. Las treinta y siete horas y media o siete horas y media diarias de lunes a viernes deben estar dedicadas a la labor docente, investigadora y administrativa.

Que levante la mano. Parece que no. Para nada. A trabajar gratis. The world's whole sap is sunk; The general balm th'hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interred; yet all these seem to laugh, Compared with me, who am their epitaph. For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations and lean emptiness. He ruined me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not. All, all some properties invest. But I am none; nor will my sun renew.

Since she enjoys her long night's festival, Let me prepare towards her, and let me call This hour her vigil and her eve, since this Both the year's and the day's deep midnight is. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings—the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd, And men were gather'd round their blazing homes To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch: A fearful hope was all the world contain'd; Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.

The brows of men by the despairing light Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The flashes fell upon them; some lay down And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up With mad disquietude on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses cast them down upon the dust, And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd And twin'd themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.

And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again: a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was death Immediate and inglorious; and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails—men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meagre by the meagre were devour'd, Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.

The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies: they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they rak'd up, And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend.

The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless— A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd They slept on the abyss without a surge— The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them—She was the Universe.

Couples near the river jueves, 13 de diciembre de Couples near the river. From the Norton Anthology of English Literature. The Internet Ulysses. Los diputados nos roban viernes, 14 de diciembre de Los diputados nos roban. Tienda de Disney viernes, 14 de diciembre de Tienda de Disney. Microblog de noviembre Jueves, 10 de Enero de Mrs Dalloway Mrs Dalloway.

Samuel Johnson: Rasselas

Exquisite Moments. E[dward] E[stlin] Cummings , born in Cambridge, Mass. The poems show his transcendental faith in a world where the self-reliant, joyful, loving individual is beautifully alife but in which mass man, or the man who lives by mind alone, without heart and soul, is dead.

The true individual Cummings praised, often reverently and with freshness of spirit and idiom, but the "unman" was satirized as Cummings presented witty, bitter parodies of and attacks on the patriotic and cultural platitudes and shibboleths of the "unworld. Cummings of his day visit to the Soviet Union, published in This long prose work employs the techniques of his poetry and, like it, also celebrates the individual of the title Greek, "I am" , and with wit and vigor attacks the regimentation of people in the USSR.

So many selves. Somos hijos de la guerra. Viernes, 11 de Enero de Ideas de especie y especies de ideas. The Mark on the Wall. The Gutenberg Galaxy. Domingo, 13 de Enero de Lunes, 14 de Enero de Auden martes, 18 de diciembre de W. Margaret Drabble:. Martes, 15 de Enero de Toni Morrison jueves, 20 de diciembre de Toni Morrison.

Hart and Leininger:. Hemingway and Faulkner. A Journal of English and American Studies. Escritos, ensayos, publicaciones. Viernes, 18 de Enero de Your list has reached the maximum number of items. Please create a new list with a new name; move some items to a new or existing list; or delete some items. Narratology : an introduction.

Publisher: London ; New York : Longman, The dynamics of narrative form : studies in Anglo-American narratology. Historia de la segunda guerra mundial. Publisher: Zaragoza : Prenses Universitarias de Zaragoza, A bibliography of literary theory, criticism and philology.

Theorizing narrativity. Publisher: Berlin : Walter De Gruyter, Texture of internet : netlinguistics in progress. Publisher: Newcastle : Cambridge Scholars Publishing, The Theatre of the Restoration. Martes, 22 de Enero de You forget that brainless magnificence of body has been tried. Things immeasurably greater than man in every respect but brain have existed and perished. The megatherium, the icthyosaurus have paced the earth with seven-league steps and hidden the day with cloud vast wings.

Where are they now? Fossils in museums, and so few and imperfect at that, that a knuckle bone or a tooth of one of them is prized beyond the lives of a thousand soldiers. These things lived and wanted to live; but for lack of brains they did not know how to carry out their purpose, and so destroyed themselves.