The self regards itself in a watery mirror, as the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin. Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Browsing the archives for the Literature category
We’re left to imagine that the “rival” is a kind, gifted and generous person. As for the person is speaking through the poem, imagination isn’t required. This is a remarkable spoof of the self.
When we close the last page of Master And Commander, we will understand Dillon’s red hair, his hopes and perils, his inability to hit the note again, his dim lighting, and his private intonation of the doxology.
“I believe we have the classical situation — the captive, the maiden — it is ludicrously hackneyed,” observes Stephen. In O’Brian’s hand, there is nothing hackneyed about it at all.
With the ship becalmed, her crew members are whiling away the endless evenings in recreational activities. Intramural roller-derby is the most popular; the feverish stroke of bodies hurtling counter-clockwise in the confined space of the quarterdeck, the clash of whirring wheels… [WARNING: plot spoilers!]