Burning a Book by William Stafford The Poem:

Protecting each other, right in the center

a few pages glow a long time.

The cover goes first, then outer leaves

curling away, then spine and a scattering.

Truth, brittle and faint, burns easily,

its fire as hot as the fire lies make—

flame doesn’t care. You can usually find

a few charred words in the ashes.

And some books ought to burn, trying for character

but just faking it. More disturbing

than book ashes are whole libraries that no one

got around to writing—desolate

towns, miles of unthought in cities,

and the terrorized countryside where wild dogs

own anything that moves. If a book

isn’t written, no one needs to burn it—

ignorance can dance in the absence of fire.

So I’ve burned books. And there are many

I haven’t even written, and nobody has.

My questions:

Are ther

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream

View a film and read a text-based representation of your hero, such as a modern graphic representation of your hero (comic book, graphic novel). compare how your character is represented in text and how your character is visually represented. next, you will compare how this information informs the idea of what it means to be a hero.

What is implied in this sentence from mark twain's "the ? 1,000,000 bank-note"? i was puzzled, and wanted to discuss the matter a little further, but they didn't; so i took my leave, feeling hurt and insulted to be made the butt of what was apparently some kind of a practical joke, and yet obliged to put up with it, not being in circumstances to resent affronts from rich and strong folk.