Here's a little change of scenery, eh? :)
* * *
Question:
Describe the main types of European Law.
Answer:
In European law, there are four main types; treaties, directives, regulations and decisions.
A treaty is a primary source of law, with the Treaty of Rome being the most prominent. Treaties act as binding agreements between all the member states and individuals as far as they apply to them.
Following the European Communities Act 1972, s 2(1), when treaties are signed by the heads of government, the law automatically becomes a part of the English law. Treaties govern mainly the organisation of the community and relationships between the Member State, but some of them affect individuals directly. For example, Art 141 establishes the principle of equal pay between men and women. An individual citizen may, under certain circumstances, rely on the provisions of the treaties when taking legal action against a government or other individual.
Directives apply only when implemented by the member state. In simpler words, if the European Union produces a directive, a member state must make a domestic rule, which facilitates the law envisaged in the directive.
Also, if the directive specifies a right, the individual must wait for the member state to pass a law implementing a directive. If the above is not fulfilled, the individual will only be able to sue the government itself for failing to comply with the directive. This is also known as the indirect effect.
Regulations come into force at the member state level states to pass any laws, and the member states are automatically expected to ignore any local laws which conflict with the regulation.
If a regulation provides individuals with certain rights, an individual has a legal claim to that right, and can bring an action against any other party if this right is infringed upon. Under these circumstances, the individual is advised to seek legal advice from a solicitor. The regulation, therefore, is said to have direct effect because the citizen in a member state can rely on the regulation directly.
Lastly, the court, under the power of Article 288, makes decisions. It operates to both clarify the existing laws and ensure their enforcement by member states. These decisions consider the statutes (directives and regulations) and apply them to specific cases.
They are administrative in nature and Article 288 allows for recommendations and opinions to be issued although they have no binding force.
Marks: 7/12.
~#~
Woo~ Law essay. Please note that this is not a good essay. I'm working on it :)
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
Monday, February 25, 2013
リトリチャ Ep 9
Our teacher had had us write a poem a few days ago. I don't know about other people, but I'm a girl with a huge ego, so I'd like to share it :)
* * *
Question:
Write an eerie and mysterious poem.
Answer:
Is He Aware It's Autumn Now?
On the hill near the Union Cemetery
Lies a haunt 'n which hemlocks grow
Strong winds brew at night n' mornin'
Shrouded by a heavy fog
Thunder strikes the crook'd roof
As ravens crow at a brainless stranger
Who knew that this stupid douche'd
Walk in 'cause he knew no better?
The doors creak open with a gentle push
Not knowing he'd had eyes on him
Silently, the black cat mews
He finally knows his light has dimmed
Outside, the vines are calm an' still
From victims they had previously bound
He can hear the bird's wings beat
Is he aware it's autumn now?
He's stepping up much higher now
Foolish choice for one so young
Should have stopped and gone back down
Instead of going on half-drunk
The halls are dark and blackened so
No signs of joy or faith or hope
His mind could have taken control
N' made him lose sight of his soul
But he walks as though black were white
Like parsnip weeds were pretty lilies
Thinking as though dark were light
He might as well take poison ivy
He hasn't ceased his growing interest
Curiosity would not allow
He's deeper in this than he wanted
Is he aware it's autumn now?
What's that? That sound? So weird, so loud
That shade o' red, he's seen before
Blood? So much? He starts to frown
"What the hell did I come here for?"
He turns around to see a fox
Or 's it a wolf? – He could not tell
In its mouth; a mirror or clock?
Broken to pieces, it would not sell
"I'll go back down, get out of town,
Forget about this haunted house."
But b'fore he could, he looked around,
"Exactly where do I get out?"
Another door appeared somehow
I'm thinking what'll he do now?
He'd better stop roaming about
Is he aware it's autumn now?
Teacher's comment: I enjoyed reading this! I like the recurring questions :)
~#~
Yeah~ Sorry, I have to accommodate my humongous ego in my humongous head :P Nothing more tough than doing that :P Might come off as a snob to people around me, but hey, I'm trying :)
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
* * *
Question:
Write an eerie and mysterious poem.
Answer:
Is He Aware It's Autumn Now?
On the hill near the Union Cemetery
Lies a haunt 'n which hemlocks grow
Strong winds brew at night n' mornin'
Shrouded by a heavy fog
Thunder strikes the crook'd roof
As ravens crow at a brainless stranger
Who knew that this stupid douche'd
Walk in 'cause he knew no better?
The doors creak open with a gentle push
Not knowing he'd had eyes on him
Silently, the black cat mews
He finally knows his light has dimmed
Outside, the vines are calm an' still
From victims they had previously bound
He can hear the bird's wings beat
Is he aware it's autumn now?
He's stepping up much higher now
Foolish choice for one so young
Should have stopped and gone back down
Instead of going on half-drunk
The halls are dark and blackened so
No signs of joy or faith or hope
His mind could have taken control
N' made him lose sight of his soul
But he walks as though black were white
Like parsnip weeds were pretty lilies
Thinking as though dark were light
He might as well take poison ivy
He hasn't ceased his growing interest
Curiosity would not allow
He's deeper in this than he wanted
Is he aware it's autumn now?
What's that? That sound? So weird, so loud
That shade o' red, he's seen before
Blood? So much? He starts to frown
"What the hell did I come here for?"
He turns around to see a fox
Or 's it a wolf? – He could not tell
In its mouth; a mirror or clock?
Broken to pieces, it would not sell
"I'll go back down, get out of town,
Forget about this haunted house."
But b'fore he could, he looked around,
"Exactly where do I get out?"
Another door appeared somehow
I'm thinking what'll he do now?
He'd better stop roaming about
Is he aware it's autumn now?
Teacher's comment: I enjoyed reading this! I like the recurring questions :)
~#~
Yeah~ Sorry, I have to accommodate my humongous ego in my humongous head :P Nothing more tough than doing that :P Might come off as a snob to people around me, but hey, I'm trying :)
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
リトリチャ Ep 8
This is another Literature post to make up for my hiatus :)
* * *
Question:
"Home haunts those who write about it."
Compare and contrast the ways in which home is presented in at least 2 poems in light of this statement.
Answer:
The poems "To My Mother" by George Barker and "One Flesh" by Elizabeth Jennings bear some similarities and differences in light of the above statement.
The persona in "To My Mother" seems to miss her or her mother dearly. The persona constantly thinks about her, reminiscing about things she used to do, like: "Under the window where I often found her." The persona also remembers the habits and tendencies of his or her mother, no matter how insignificant they may be to other people. For instance, "Sitting as huge as Asia, seismic with laughter, gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand."
Home also 'haunts' the persona by making him or her remember details of his or her home. For example, the persona would remember that there was a cellar the mother could 'scuttle' to. Other details include the fact that the persona's home houses a mahogany table which his or her mother would lean on "like a mountain whom only faith could move."
In "One Flesh", Home also 'haunts' the persona by making him or her think about his or her parents, who are revealed in the last stanza when the persona says: "These two who are my father and my mother." The persona also, similarly in "To My Mother", thinks about his or her parents' actions, such as his or her father "with a book, keeping the light on late" and his or her mother "like a girl dreaming of childhood."
Also similar to "To My Mother", Home 'haunts' the persona in "One Flesh" by making him or her recall events of home which include the presence of books, beds and lights which his or her father left switched on until late.
However, there are also differences between the poem where the above statement is concerned. In "To My Mother", the tone of the poem suggests that the persona is thinking of his or her mother and home endearingly. One example would be when the persona first introduces his or her mother: "Most near, most dear, most loved and most far." On the other hand, in "One Flesh", the persona is mostly pained by the memories of home and his or her parents. An instance would be when the persona notices that the "silence between them like a thread to hold" and the recollection that they are "lying apart now, each in a separate bed."
Apart from that, the persona in "To My Mother" remembers his or her mother to be fearful and unbeatable in a certain sense, such as when he or she says: "She is like a procession no one can follow after but be like a dog following a brass band", suggesting that the persona's mother is one of a kind. In "One Flesh", however, the persona only remembers the awkward and tense moments between his or her parents like when he or she notes "how cool they lie. They hardly ever touch" as well as "the book he holds unread" and "her eyes fixed on shadows overhead."
Therefore, it does not necessarily have to be bad memories when the above statement says 'haunt'. This is because something, or someone, can 'haunt' us in different ways and can bring us an equal amount of pain and joy. It just so happens that the persona's home in "To My Mother" brought back sweeter memories than those of the persona in "One Flesh".
Teacher's comment: Good comparison. Compare on structure and language.
Marks: 25/40.
~#~
This was actually an English Literature test. Although, I was absent that day from school when this was done. Thankfully, my teacher let me bring home the question to do at home as long as I did it within one and a half hours.
Don't worry, I timed myself :D
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
* * *
Question:
"Home haunts those who write about it."
Compare and contrast the ways in which home is presented in at least 2 poems in light of this statement.
Answer:
The poems "To My Mother" by George Barker and "One Flesh" by Elizabeth Jennings bear some similarities and differences in light of the above statement.
The persona in "To My Mother" seems to miss her or her mother dearly. The persona constantly thinks about her, reminiscing about things she used to do, like: "Under the window where I often found her." The persona also remembers the habits and tendencies of his or her mother, no matter how insignificant they may be to other people. For instance, "Sitting as huge as Asia, seismic with laughter, gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand."
Home also 'haunts' the persona by making him or her remember details of his or her home. For example, the persona would remember that there was a cellar the mother could 'scuttle' to. Other details include the fact that the persona's home houses a mahogany table which his or her mother would lean on "like a mountain whom only faith could move."
In "One Flesh", Home also 'haunts' the persona by making him or her think about his or her parents, who are revealed in the last stanza when the persona says: "These two who are my father and my mother." The persona also, similarly in "To My Mother", thinks about his or her parents' actions, such as his or her father "with a book, keeping the light on late" and his or her mother "like a girl dreaming of childhood."
Also similar to "To My Mother", Home 'haunts' the persona in "One Flesh" by making him or her recall events of home which include the presence of books, beds and lights which his or her father left switched on until late.
However, there are also differences between the poem where the above statement is concerned. In "To My Mother", the tone of the poem suggests that the persona is thinking of his or her mother and home endearingly. One example would be when the persona first introduces his or her mother: "Most near, most dear, most loved and most far." On the other hand, in "One Flesh", the persona is mostly pained by the memories of home and his or her parents. An instance would be when the persona notices that the "silence between them like a thread to hold" and the recollection that they are "lying apart now, each in a separate bed."
Apart from that, the persona in "To My Mother" remembers his or her mother to be fearful and unbeatable in a certain sense, such as when he or she says: "She is like a procession no one can follow after but be like a dog following a brass band", suggesting that the persona's mother is one of a kind. In "One Flesh", however, the persona only remembers the awkward and tense moments between his or her parents like when he or she notes "how cool they lie. They hardly ever touch" as well as "the book he holds unread" and "her eyes fixed on shadows overhead."
Therefore, it does not necessarily have to be bad memories when the above statement says 'haunt'. This is because something, or someone, can 'haunt' us in different ways and can bring us an equal amount of pain and joy. It just so happens that the persona's home in "To My Mother" brought back sweeter memories than those of the persona in "One Flesh".
Teacher's comment: Good comparison. Compare on structure and language.
Marks: 25/40.
~#~
This was actually an English Literature test. Although, I was absent that day from school when this was done. Thankfully, my teacher let me bring home the question to do at home as long as I did it within one and a half hours.
Don't worry, I timed myself :D
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
リトリチャ Ep 7
Okay, I know I haven't been very consistent with the posts but this is another Literature one to keep things going before I finally attempt a daily post :P
* * *
Question:
The Diary of St John Rivers (covering chapters 31-34).
Answer:
Dear Diary,
There are very little things that can move me: the missionary that I have resolved to be and the angel I saw in Ms Oliver's person. I did not think that within the course of a few days, I would need to be justifying both to Jane Eyre and myself.
That my late father had, as I put forth to Jane Eyre, "opposed the determination" to be a missionary only made me work harder to prove I could succeed. I believed it was my calling; my destiny; my duty to fulfill, as God desired.
And then there was Ms Oliver. Oh dear, sweet, beautiful Rosamond Oliver. If only we could have been. If only I could bring myself to take her as my own and take her with me where I deemed fit. But it was not to be. As I had told Jane Eyre during the last visit I paid her: "It is strange that while I love Rosamond Oliver so wildly – with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the object of which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating – I experience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that she would not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me; that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that to twelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know."
Indeed, it was almost impossible to envision Rosamond Oliver a missionary's wife. (Though I must admit, that Jane Eyre could even bear to suggest I "relinquish that scheme" to be a missionary was even more impossible to envision.)
They cannot judge me. Ms Oliver was born "surrounded by suitors and flatterers", as I told my dear cousin. It would not be long before my existence in her memory was permanently erased. My cousin may suggest that I suffer in actual fact – and maybe she spoke the truth – but I am confident that I will do just as well without her as she will without me.
Oh, but Diary, I did not expect my dear cousin to press on the subject. Can you imagine it? She said that I "tremble and become flushed whenever Ms Oliver enters a schoolroom"! Was she so observant of my actions towards Ms Oliver to this extent? I really could not have foreseen this. In fact, I told her that there was something brave in her spirit as well as penetrating in her eye. Although with that declaration, I assured her that she had misinterpreted my emotions, because even as I am writing this, I am convinced she will bring me limited benefits.
In fact, she was to be married to someone else! I will not pen his name: I shudder – just barely – to think what kind of person Rosamond Oliver will be attached to. Instead, within the next few days, I had asked my cousin for her hand in marriage; to be a missionary's wife; "for my Sovereign's service."
I can imagine what other people would think. They would think that my marrying Jane Eyre meant I was succumbing to jealousy; that I claimed her to get even with Ms Oliver for having moved on so soon. Well, they would be very, very wrong. I am but dust and ashes, but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. I told Jane Eyre the exact some thing when I implored her to come with me to India.
As I said, however, my cousin was as stubborn as she was an Eyre. She told me that she would not go as my wife, but as my sister. She did not understand, Diary. She did not understand that adopted fraternity was strongly scrutinized. I told her to consider; that her sense would guide her, but she was persistent. She would not have me as her husband. She did not believe in a loveless marriage. She "scorned" it, actually. She said so, to my face, with no hesitation, guard or remorse for having done so.
Dear Diary, I will say that I was stunned, though I forced myself to remain calm. No gentleman would expose himself to such vulnerability. Yes, I said to Jane Eyre: "I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you. I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn."
Maybe I did. Maybe I was at fault for speaking such, as my cousin put it, "counterfeit sentiments". I once again say, I must not be judged: I believed that my 'scheme' was a long-cherished one, which could secure my great end. I assure you, though, that I did not press her further. I told her to think about my offer once more before giving me her final answer.
I will say that I acted childishly, shaking hands loosely when beckoned. I was offended, to say the least. To think that she would reject me so strongly, when I had nothing to hurt her or even cause her any discomfort. I just told her that I was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation – yes, for I was vexed – and that I had nothing to forgive, not having been offended – yes, I lied. And then I left.
After reading this, will there still be people who judge me? Will there still be people who disapprove of me? Will there still be people who think I thought of marriage as a dark, twisted scheme?
Dear Diary, I did not care.
Teacher's comment: You stayed true to the text. Excellent!
~#~
And so that was St John Rivers' Diary :D
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
* * *
Question:
The Diary of St John Rivers (covering chapters 31-34).
Answer:
Dear Diary,
There are very little things that can move me: the missionary that I have resolved to be and the angel I saw in Ms Oliver's person. I did not think that within the course of a few days, I would need to be justifying both to Jane Eyre and myself.
That my late father had, as I put forth to Jane Eyre, "opposed the determination" to be a missionary only made me work harder to prove I could succeed. I believed it was my calling; my destiny; my duty to fulfill, as God desired.
And then there was Ms Oliver. Oh dear, sweet, beautiful Rosamond Oliver. If only we could have been. If only I could bring myself to take her as my own and take her with me where I deemed fit. But it was not to be. As I had told Jane Eyre during the last visit I paid her: "It is strange that while I love Rosamond Oliver so wildly – with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the object of which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating – I experience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that she would not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me; that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that to twelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know."
Indeed, it was almost impossible to envision Rosamond Oliver a missionary's wife. (Though I must admit, that Jane Eyre could even bear to suggest I "relinquish that scheme" to be a missionary was even more impossible to envision.)
They cannot judge me. Ms Oliver was born "surrounded by suitors and flatterers", as I told my dear cousin. It would not be long before my existence in her memory was permanently erased. My cousin may suggest that I suffer in actual fact – and maybe she spoke the truth – but I am confident that I will do just as well without her as she will without me.
Oh, but Diary, I did not expect my dear cousin to press on the subject. Can you imagine it? She said that I "tremble and become flushed whenever Ms Oliver enters a schoolroom"! Was she so observant of my actions towards Ms Oliver to this extent? I really could not have foreseen this. In fact, I told her that there was something brave in her spirit as well as penetrating in her eye. Although with that declaration, I assured her that she had misinterpreted my emotions, because even as I am writing this, I am convinced she will bring me limited benefits.
In fact, she was to be married to someone else! I will not pen his name: I shudder – just barely – to think what kind of person Rosamond Oliver will be attached to. Instead, within the next few days, I had asked my cousin for her hand in marriage; to be a missionary's wife; "for my Sovereign's service."
I can imagine what other people would think. They would think that my marrying Jane Eyre meant I was succumbing to jealousy; that I claimed her to get even with Ms Oliver for having moved on so soon. Well, they would be very, very wrong. I am but dust and ashes, but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. I told Jane Eyre the exact some thing when I implored her to come with me to India.
As I said, however, my cousin was as stubborn as she was an Eyre. She told me that she would not go as my wife, but as my sister. She did not understand, Diary. She did not understand that adopted fraternity was strongly scrutinized. I told her to consider; that her sense would guide her, but she was persistent. She would not have me as her husband. She did not believe in a loveless marriage. She "scorned" it, actually. She said so, to my face, with no hesitation, guard or remorse for having done so.
Dear Diary, I will say that I was stunned, though I forced myself to remain calm. No gentleman would expose himself to such vulnerability. Yes, I said to Jane Eyre: "I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you. I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn."
Maybe I did. Maybe I was at fault for speaking such, as my cousin put it, "counterfeit sentiments". I once again say, I must not be judged: I believed that my 'scheme' was a long-cherished one, which could secure my great end. I assure you, though, that I did not press her further. I told her to think about my offer once more before giving me her final answer.
I will say that I acted childishly, shaking hands loosely when beckoned. I was offended, to say the least. To think that she would reject me so strongly, when I had nothing to hurt her or even cause her any discomfort. I just told her that I was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation – yes, for I was vexed – and that I had nothing to forgive, not having been offended – yes, I lied. And then I left.
After reading this, will there still be people who judge me? Will there still be people who disapprove of me? Will there still be people who think I thought of marriage as a dark, twisted scheme?
Dear Diary, I did not care.
Teacher's comment: You stayed true to the text. Excellent!
~#~
And so that was St John Rivers' Diary :D
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
リトリチャ Ep 6
Okay, it's been a while, but I've got another Literature post today :D
* * *
Question:
Select your favourite poem. Why do like this poem?
Answer:
My favourite poem is The Last Duchess, written by Robert Browning. It is told from the persona’s point of view. He is speaking of his last duchess, who is most likely no longer in this world, since in the first two lines, he writes: ‘That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, looking as if she were alive’.
I like this poem the best of all the ones I have read so far because it speaks of the deep love the persona has for his duchess. He had had her painted by a very famous artist, Frà Pandolf, whom, in turn, produced a very beautiful painting of her. This is shown in the third and fourth line of the poem, stating: ‘Frà Pandolf’s hands worked busily a day, and there she stands’.
Apart from that, the persona respects his duchess’ privacy even in death. This is because he does not publish Pandolf’s work in public, as if to safeguard his late duchess from the world. Although, this may also be seen as the persona being very selfish because he does not want anyone else to see his duchess except those he permits. He makes that fact clear in the ninth and tenth line, when he says: ‘since none puts by the curtain I have drawn for you, but I’.
The writer also has the artist, Pandolf, praise the beauty of the duchess, saying: ‘Paint must never hope to reproduce the faint half-flush that dies along her throat’. I also fancy the characteristics of the duchess, whom was honest in her speech and graceful in her mannerisms. This is proved in the twenty ninth, thirtieth and thirty first line: ‘She rode with round the terrace – all and each would draw from her alike the approving speech, or blush, at least’.
While these are all admirable traits of the persona, which warrant my affinity for this particular poem, I also like the persona’s contradicting personality, which suggests he began mistreating his duchess. The most prominent line which describes this is the forty second, forty third, forty fifth and forty sixth line: ‘Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, whene’er I passed her; but who passed without much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; then all smiles stopped together’. This could mean that he set about abusing her since he started wanting more attention from her. Due to this growing greed, he unknowingly pushed her further away.
It is also amazing how the writer used Neptune’s taming of a sea horse to summarize how the persona feels for his duchess and what “taming” her led to, eventually. This was portrayed in the final lines of My Last Duchess: ‘Notice Neptune, though, taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!’
As a result, this poem definitely taught me a life lesson. Love comes in different forms, and while I definitely do not agree with some expressions, it tells me that nobody can predict how a person will react to love, except that it will only be acceptable in their eyes.
~#~
Yeah~ It's more like a "proving" assignment rather than just explaining why I like this poem -.- Either way, kudos to Madame S for introducing this poem to my brother and I :D
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
* * *
Question:
Select your favourite poem. Why do like this poem?
Answer:
My favourite poem is The Last Duchess, written by Robert Browning. It is told from the persona’s point of view. He is speaking of his last duchess, who is most likely no longer in this world, since in the first two lines, he writes: ‘That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, looking as if she were alive’.
I like this poem the best of all the ones I have read so far because it speaks of the deep love the persona has for his duchess. He had had her painted by a very famous artist, Frà Pandolf, whom, in turn, produced a very beautiful painting of her. This is shown in the third and fourth line of the poem, stating: ‘Frà Pandolf’s hands worked busily a day, and there she stands’.
Apart from that, the persona respects his duchess’ privacy even in death. This is because he does not publish Pandolf’s work in public, as if to safeguard his late duchess from the world. Although, this may also be seen as the persona being very selfish because he does not want anyone else to see his duchess except those he permits. He makes that fact clear in the ninth and tenth line, when he says: ‘since none puts by the curtain I have drawn for you, but I’.
The writer also has the artist, Pandolf, praise the beauty of the duchess, saying: ‘Paint must never hope to reproduce the faint half-flush that dies along her throat’. I also fancy the characteristics of the duchess, whom was honest in her speech and graceful in her mannerisms. This is proved in the twenty ninth, thirtieth and thirty first line: ‘She rode with round the terrace – all and each would draw from her alike the approving speech, or blush, at least’.
While these are all admirable traits of the persona, which warrant my affinity for this particular poem, I also like the persona’s contradicting personality, which suggests he began mistreating his duchess. The most prominent line which describes this is the forty second, forty third, forty fifth and forty sixth line: ‘Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, whene’er I passed her; but who passed without much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; then all smiles stopped together’. This could mean that he set about abusing her since he started wanting more attention from her. Due to this growing greed, he unknowingly pushed her further away.
It is also amazing how the writer used Neptune’s taming of a sea horse to summarize how the persona feels for his duchess and what “taming” her led to, eventually. This was portrayed in the final lines of My Last Duchess: ‘Notice Neptune, though, taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!’
As a result, this poem definitely taught me a life lesson. Love comes in different forms, and while I definitely do not agree with some expressions, it tells me that nobody can predict how a person will react to love, except that it will only be acceptable in their eyes.
~#~
Yeah~ It's more like a "proving" assignment rather than just explaining why I like this poem -.- Either way, kudos to Madame S for introducing this poem to my brother and I :D
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
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