DIARY ENTRY: ASSASSINATION OF THE ARCHDUKE FRANZ FERDINAND Dear Mr.Obama‚ I am a member of “ Black hand ”‚ and my name is Gavrilo Princip . I joined the “Blank hand” While in Serbia . In 1914‚ I had a mission with other 6 men to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand ‚ the heir to the AustroHungarian throne‚ during his visit to Sarajevo on 28 June. The reason is we wanted to break away from AustriaHungary and join Serbia‚ and the goal of “Black hand” is tried to help make it happen
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October of 1917‚ I was eighteen at the time and Jordan was sixteen‚ when I met Gatsby. In those times my family was doing really well financially and life was simple. When I wore clothing the color white was always my favorite. On the day I met Gatsby in fact I was wearing white and he was wearing his uniform. We hung out for a while and I could see in his eyes that he wanted more than friendship. It took a while for me to start having feelings‚ but it was to late. He was enlisted and left. I wanted to
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On the diary entry on 2 January ‚ 1944 anne stated that she was turning over pages in her diary. Of those pages she said she came across letters dealing with the subject mummy. Anne was shocked and wondered “Anne is it really you mentioned hate”? She sat there and thought about it and how it came about that I should have been so brimful of rage. Really so filled with such a thing as hate that i had to confide it all in you. She talked about trying to understand the anne of a year ago and excuse
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Hello Mother and Father how are you doing? I haven’t been doing too well in the trenches. As you know I have been assisting the French in the trenches for nearly two years. The trenches are horrendous; I never thought I would be more petrified at the horrific conditions than the actual war. Every day we face rats‚ hundreds of millions of rats‚ scurrying through the trenches. Since we don’t have a proper waste disposal system‚ the rats eat the trash that lay on the floor and the soldiers who have
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Dorothy Roberts in her books speaks directly on issue affecting African American women whether social or moral such as: gender segregation‚ mistreatment‚ oversexed all of these all in a negative way. Yes‚ many persons are of the view that the topic of Africans in general is one of pity‚ desperations‚ poverty and worthlessness. So much so‚ that when it involves African women the thoughts even goes much deeper to a great extent. Enslaved African women were dealt with like animals rather than children
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The day was vivid and clear. Snow had fallen through the night‚ and when Nikk emerged it was gently and silently. The Menagerie had shed from this perfect realm‚ this white pristine world if not for just a moment‚ and as Nikk stood in the snow she felt a hint of magic as she had when she was a child in Pavek; in Russian. She allowed herself a small‚ stolen moment and leaned her head back to the blackened skeletons of the sleeping trees and brilliant blue skies. Her brown eyes closed‚ and for the
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Dear diary‚ My parents are not happy with me. I went to school and there’s just a matter of time until something goes wrong. It will obviously go wrong where I hate to go‚ Mrs. Hawthorne’s art class. The bad things started when Mrs. Hawthorne won’t help me. I got steaming mad and I broke her potters wheel into three pieces I felt really sorry but she didn’t believe me. I could feel every one laughing and smiling at me. When mrs. Hawthorne got mad she stormed out of the classroom. The boys started
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poems lies in the pages of Dorothy Wordsworth’s journal. Quite frequently‚ Dorothy describes an incident in her journal‚ and William writes a poem about the same incident‚ often around two years later.’ It is a common observation that whilst Dorothy is a recorder – ‘her face was excessively brown’ – William is a transformer – ‘Her skin was of Egyptian brown’ . The intertextuality between The Grasmere and Alfoxden Journals and ‘I wandered lonely as a Cloud’ allows both Dorothy and William to write about
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take. Often I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to stand it. The delusion that I could possibly still be an individual seized my absent mind. Porcelain white walls delineate me. No windows‚ no chance in hell to escape. I imagine O’Brien pinning the other prisoners’ arms to the wall‚ and slowly driving nails that are the length of their feet into their wrists. When he finishes there‚ I look to see him nailing their ankles through the sides of their legs; one nail for two ankles. I can feel the
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The poem “The Lonely Land” by A.J.M Smith can be compared with the poem by Marilyn Dumont called “Not Just a Platform for My Dance”. Smith’s poem‚ “The Lonely Land”‚ describes the land in detail. He says that even though the land is not perfect‚ it has its own beauty. “Not Just a Platform for My Dance” states that the land is not just considered as a place‚ but as something to learn from. Dumont also explains how the land teaches us everything we know. Even though both of the poems are about
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