<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8CQHs6fyp7ImA9WxNaFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734</id><updated>2009-11-30T19:17:41.517+05:30</updated><title>Literary Jewels</title><subtitle type="html">'Literary Jewels' is a creative insight into the world of literature. It is about the jewels of literature - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, drama and much more. I have attempted to interpret literature from my point of view. It also contains my little ramblings about general topics related to life.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>246</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LiteraryJewels" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>LiteraryJewels</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEMQHgycCp7ImA9WxNaFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1715031978139040066</id><published>2009-11-29T23:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-29T23:48:01.698+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T23:48:01.698+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Words are all I have...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/piObl3nWpo5mnfnuS0EoSFWkw2U/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/piObl3nWpo5mnfnuS0EoSFWkw2U/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/piObl3nWpo5mnfnuS0EoSFWkw2U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/piObl3nWpo5mnfnuS0EoSFWkw2U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s1600/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s320/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src: &lt;a href="http://www.wordscanhurtorheal.com/Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg"&gt;Words&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Words are all I have…I consider them to be my best friend. The term ‘best friend’ says it all.&lt;br /&gt;
•The words never make me feel lonely.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are always loyal.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t fail me when I need them the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to be just myself.&lt;br /&gt;
•I feel at home when I am in the company of my words.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to express my innermost thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to unlock the mysteries of life that surround.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to free myself from the ties and the chains that always do bound.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are a means of protecting myself from the onslaught of the cruel world around me.&lt;br /&gt;
•They lend me a shoulder when I need support the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t change with time, they are always constant and ever unchanging.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are a silent promise that they’ll always be there when I need them the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are something that’ll be always present even if they are absent.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are always there when all others abandon.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t demand an explanation.&lt;br /&gt;
•They have full faith that whatever I say is correct and should not be doubted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The list seems to be endless. I felt as if I could go on and on. But then had to stop somewhere… else my words could get out of my control and I would never want that to happen. After all, best friends are a promise that they’ll there forever and ever, no matter what…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1715031978139040066?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jCKFTUhXD0M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1715031978139040066/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1715031978139040066&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1715031978139040066?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1715031978139040066?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jCKFTUhXD0M/words-are-all-i-have.html" title="Words are all I have..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s72-c/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/words-are-all-i-have.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYNQHs_fCp7ImA9WxNaFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5763170538746189035</id><published>2009-11-28T08:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-29T11:59:51.544+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T11:59:51.544+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>'That Place' - a poem</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There’s something amiss:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don’t know where, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but the completeness is lacking…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The soul yearns, yet,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;cannot be there;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that much coveted place – &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;a place I relinquished long ago.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now is the nothingness&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;of being and existing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If life could be relived, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;if time rewinds itself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;if fate could be written afresh, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I would have achieved&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;of which now I am deprived.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alas! the moving finger continues&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to ink on new marks,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;on the pages of my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I strive and strife,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;against fate:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O! to be myself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;just to be myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5763170538746189035?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/uaIA4p2NN_A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5763170538746189035/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5763170538746189035&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5763170538746189035?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5763170538746189035?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/uaIA4p2NN_A/that-place-poem.html" title="'That Place' - a poem" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/that-place-poem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUABRHszcSp7ImA9WxNaE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3789258655606968244</id><published>2009-11-28T00:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T00:19:15.589+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-28T00:19:15.589+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The film '2012' and me...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s1600/2012-poster-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s320/2012-poster-4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Watched the film ‘2012’ yesterday – I found it to be quite an interesting and a brilliant film (P.S. This is totally my personal opinion as I have read reviews that have totally rubbished this film.). And I say this not just because of the breath-taking graphics of the film but also from the point of view of the story and most importantly the way things have been portrayed. What added weight to the story line is, the touch of humanness.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What first came to my mind was that what if we know we are going to die in some specific time period, how would we react to it? That’s a question I asked myself. In the film we have instances of those who resign to their fate, those who fight for survival  and those who live even after their death because they gave their life so that others could live. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Out of all the memorable ones, one incident stands out prominently. The one where the pilot carrying the protagonist of the film and his family…after saving them, prays just before his plane hangs from a cliff. For a fraction of a second, the plane stands still before falling down. For that fraction it seems that the prayer worked and pilot has a smile on his face…only to be condemned to death the very next moment. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then there was the moment when the general public was to be allowed to board the spaceship…and the man (Jackson’s boss),  who by hook or crook got entry to the ship (had got the passes and kept it as a secret…the height of selfishnes has been portrayed through his character)..but what happens in the end he could not be on that ship…I was reminded of the saying ‘Man proposes and God disposes’…how true!!! We all make efforts, but we don’t know whether they’ll turn out to be just the way we want them to be. Nevertheless, we have to play our part. And also as they say, when you can’t have what you want it is time to start wanting what you have...Isn’t it? So we have make time, as the President in this film says.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Moreover, it was very well said that the apocalypse is when we stop fighting for each other…because that is the death of  humanity. We should all unite when faced with a challenging situation…then in the fight between life and death, we’ll surely be able to defeat death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What I learnt was that death is not to be feared, it is just a moment..we should live life to its fullest, so that we don’t have any regrets. And as Abraham Lincoln has rightly said, “And in the end it is not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years.” &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So overall I thoroughly enjoyed the film.. I always believe we should not only consider a film in totality. I say this because later on when we recall a film or anything else it is not the whole thing…we remember the particular scenes or some meaningful dialogues that stand apart from the rest of the film. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
P.S. May be I’ll add some more inputs in this post later on….&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3789258655606968244?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/MukMmsNQi2o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3789258655606968244/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3789258655606968244&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3789258655606968244?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3789258655606968244?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/MukMmsNQi2o/film-2012-and-me.html" title="The film '2012' and me..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s72-c/2012-poster-4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/film-2012-and-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQCRns4cSp7ImA9WxNaE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-140000116657156026</id><published>2009-11-24T17:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T08:16:07.539+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-28T08:16:07.539+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>An Honest Confession</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="235" src="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;img src:&lt;a href="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg"&gt;Photobucket&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nobody says a word, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;voices are hushed&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my dreams subdued.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I made a mute appeal&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to vent the tongueless grief;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and then…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the barriers broken,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;silence speaks out&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when the words refused:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it’s the heart that listens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dreams don’t die then,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;they come back to me&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;with a rejuvenating strength.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waters flow down the dried stream&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and I begin to sail along…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-140000116657156026?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/-YaADvTxn6A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/140000116657156026/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=140000116657156026&amp;isPopup=true" title="18 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/140000116657156026?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/140000116657156026?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/-YaADvTxn6A/honest-confession.html" title="An Honest Confession" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">18</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/honest-confession.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUHQHgyfCp7ImA9WxNaEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1672848980769120775</id><published>2009-11-24T11:42:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-24T11:43:51.694+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-24T11:43:51.694+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Mantra of Successful Relationships - part I</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“The moment you think of giving up any relation, think of the reason why you held it so long.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The relations are given the last priority in today’s modern materialistic world. A good relationship lies actually not in understanding a person thoroughly but in how well we avoid misunderstandings. The success lies not in moulding the other person according to your own choices, ideas and interests; it lies rather in accepting the differences and respecting the individuality of other person. Even in the closest of the relationships, a breathing space should be there. Don’t try to suffocate the other person with all your worries and don’t smother him with twenty hour care…give him/her the much-needed breathing space and you’ll have a healthy and flourishing relationship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One more thing that needs to be kept in mind is that we should be open to suggestion. Nobody is perfect, we should always accept it. Controlling our anger is also of utmost importance. The best way to avoid a fight is that the person who is giving vent to his anger should be allowed to do so even when it is unjustified sometimes. The other person should keep his cool during that downpour. The things can be explained later on when things have cooled down. And then the mind can understand the logic behind the wrong arguments that had taken place earlier.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Having given a serious thought to all these factors (there are many more actually, I’ll keep on adding them…), the moment we decide to break off a relationship we must recollect all the beautiful memories associated with it. The result will be that from amongst the heap of the bitter moments, those cherished moments will shine bright and stand above the rest…and we’ll never ever walk away…it’s worth trying!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1672848980769120775?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Z5TrQkjqgJM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1672848980769120775/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1672848980769120775&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1672848980769120775?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1672848980769120775?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Z5TrQkjqgJM/mantra-of-successful-relationships-part.html" title="The Mantra of Successful Relationships - part I" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/mantra-of-successful-relationships-part.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4GQ3g9eip7ImA9WxNbFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-6224118960302711715</id><published>2009-11-18T22:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-18T22:35:22.662+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-18T22:35:22.662+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>Identity</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/identity-crisis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/identity-crisis.jpg" width="254" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src:&lt;a href="http://www.sojones.com/news/1095-lifestyle-brands-what-are-they-and-why-do-we-want-them-so-badly/"&gt;I am?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nobody recognizes me!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;An ordinary being &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;am I to look at,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but carry a world inside me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With a façade of disguised feelings,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I chase a thousand desires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;may be a day’ll come&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when my boat crosses the sea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waiting for the cherished dawn – &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I won’t be struggling at sea,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I see the sought after shores,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I glance around and find&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have arrived somewhere:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;at a place where I can be myself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;just myself…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-6224118960302711715?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/a0iGtx69fp8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/6224118960302711715/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=6224118960302711715&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6224118960302711715?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6224118960302711715?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/a0iGtx69fp8/identity.html" title="Identity" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/identity.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUECRn44fip7ImA9WxNbFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5823164317650382219</id><published>2009-11-16T23:41:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-17T11:31:07.036+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-17T11:31:07.036+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>This Life that is...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Various philosophers have tried to define life in their own unique way. But when we try to analyze the concept deeply, we find there are certain ideas that simply don’t go with each other. It is these very contradictions that we try to reconcile to all through our life. Let’s take for instance,the thought that we need to live in our present. Even H.W. Longfellow in his ‘A Psalm of Life’ wrote:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Trust no future, howe’er pleasant!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Let the dead past bury its dead!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Act – act in the living present!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Heart within, and God o’erhead!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But is it possible to completely detach ourselves completely from our past?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We often say, we should live life by each passing moment. At the same time isn’t life a collection of moments chained together?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Life is a book. In my words, “Life is a book that contains various chapters and each chapter is an important part. We cannot simply do away with that or tear off the pages just like that…they stay there and keep cropping up like &lt;a href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/obscure-traces.html"&gt;the obscure traces&lt;/a&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What I wrote above was just a spontaneous overflow…What do you have to say?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5823164317650382219?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jVeZmKa0Bbw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5823164317650382219/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5823164317650382219&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5823164317650382219?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5823164317650382219?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jVeZmKa0Bbw/this-life-that-is.html" title="This Life that is..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-life-that-is.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMBR3o8eip7ImA9WxNUFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1010907240910857411</id><published>2009-11-07T22:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-07T22:50:56.472+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-07T22:50:56.472+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>The Obscure Traces</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s1600-h/obscure+traces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s320/obscure+traces.jpg" width="418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;pic src: &lt;a href="http://th08.deviantart.net/fs7/300W/i/2005/206/a/4/I_m_Falling_Into_Memories____by_smashmethod.jpg"&gt;Deviant Art&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I follow the traces&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;in my mind:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;some faces lingering there I find,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;they have no names,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;no voice, no visage;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;forgiven but not forgotten&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;they hang on to haunt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I try not to cast a glance&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;to come out of the momentary trance&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;but they continue to stay on:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;as a faceless, nameless&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;obscure identity.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Mindful of those I move on,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;swear not to turn back ever&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;yet being wary of their eerie existence.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1010907240910857411?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/FHsUahUnhvg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1010907240910857411/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1010907240910857411&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1010907240910857411?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1010907240910857411?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/FHsUahUnhvg/obscure-traces.html" title="The Obscure Traces" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s72-c/obscure+traces.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/obscure-traces.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4NR34yeCp7ImA9WxNUFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-9073159006778061588</id><published>2009-11-07T22:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-07T22:43:16.090+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-07T22:43:16.090+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Macbeth" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shakespeare" /><title>Character of Macbeth in Shakespeare's 'Macbeth'</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;‘Macbeth’ is universally recognized as the tragedy of ambition. It is a tragedy, which revolves around the ambitions of a great, noble Macbeth, who aimed at becoming the King of Scotland and succeeded in achieving his objective by killing almost all of those who stood in his way, as well as many innocent persons. Macbeth is the Thane of Glamis, whom King Duncan has sent to fight against his enemies and rebels. One of them is the Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth fights against him bravely. Cawdor is defeated and captured. When this news reaches King Duncan the latter not only praises him profusely but also confers on him the title of the Thane of Cawdor. In the second scene of Act One of the play, the author Shakespeare shows how brave and loyal Macbeth is to the King. When Duncan hears about Macbeth’s bravery, he calls him “noble Macbeth” and “valiant cousin”. Even the sergeant, who brings the news of the victory of Macbeth over Cawdor calls him “brave Macbeth”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the third scene of the opening act, Macbeth, returning from the battlefield meets three witches who hail him as the Thane of Slamis and Cawdor as well as the future King. Macbeth knows that as a birthright he cannot become the King of Scotland but, by and by an ambition to become the monarch becomes stronger when he is told by Ross that the King has conferred the title of ‘Thane of Cawdor’ on him. This news confirms the truth of the predictions made by the witches. But being gentle Macbeth cannot think of any treachery against the King. He argues the forebodings of the supernatural beings (the witches) cannot be either “ill or good”. Then he argues, in an aside “If chance will have me King, why chance may crown me, without my stir.”  Then, in next aside he resigns to fate saying “Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. After saying so he and  Banquo go to the King, who hails him as a trusted subject. Macbeth returns the King’s compliment saying: “The service and loyalty I owe, / In doing it, pays itself.” The King calls him “my worthy Cawdor” and expresses the desire to be his guest that night. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth who has been stung by the bug of ambition is unable to decide upon the evil course of murdering his King who has been kind and generous towards her. When his wife Lady Macbeth suggests to him that after dinner the King should be killed he tells her not to even think of it. His argument is that the King has come to his home in “double trust”. Firstly, he is the King’s relative. Secondly, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“…as his&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Who should against his murderer shut the door&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Not bear the knife myself.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Indeed, Macbeth is too noble to perform this criminal act. His wife knows that her husband is a person with “full of the milk of human kindness.” Therefore, she taunts him in every possible manner to suggest that he is a coward. He can only imagine and fancy, but cannot act when the time comes. At last, Macbeth, after her taunts determines&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Whilst I threat he lives&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When the truth of Duncan’s murder comes to light Macbeth pretends to be innocent in the whole matter. He is made the King of Scotland as foretold by the witches. But because Macbeth has achieved this throne by evil and unlawful means he feels insecure in his position. Now one after the other visions appear before him and he imagines that everybody may play false to him. He knows that the same super-powers which predicted kingship for the sons of Banquo. Therefore, his first enemy becomes Banquo with his son Fleanes. He goes still lower and hires murderers to kill Banquo and Fleanes. Banquo is killed but the latter escapes. After this when he learns that Macduff may be a trouble spot for him he takes help of murderers to kill not only Macbeth but also his whole family. Infact, the sense of insecurity and the sense of guilt from which Macbeth suffers after Duncan’s murder lie heavy upon his mind and soul and he feels that now as there is no turning back, therefore, he must go forward with his plans of murders. He says:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;…I am in blood&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;returning were as tedious as go over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth is in a state of mental conflict which is reflected in his words: “Strange things I have in head, that till to hand.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In other words, for Macbeth nothing is evil or unlawful if it gives him a sense of security and safety. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth is brave and successful warrior. His bravery continues to accompany him till the end of his life when face to face with his inevitable death in battle with Macbeth he determines “Yet I will try thee last”.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He is a person with enough philosophical musings. When the news of his wife’s death reaches him he finds himself bereft of that voice of insipiration which could have helped him in his present circumstances also. He says “she should have died hereafter.” Then in one of his philosophical moods he contemplates:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That struts and frets his hour upon the stage&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And then is heard no more.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In conclusion we may say that Macbeth is, inspite of his Kingship of Scotland a villain. He succumbs to temptations and taunts of his forgetting all the niceties and virtues of life. His cruelty and terror becomes so strong and mean that everybody begins to hate him. When Malcolm and Macduff meet, they talk of Macbeth’s meanness and cruelty. Macduff says:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;…each new morn&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;New windows howl, new orphans cry…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Malcolm refers to Macbeth as “this tyrant”. He further confirms Macbeth’s view by saying that his country:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Is added to the wounds.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;All this shows the villainy of coupled with cruelty and meanness. The terror and horror created by Macbeth. We conclude this discussion about Macbeth’s character with the words of D.F. Macae:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“We hear from his own heart of his ambition, his weakness, the wrongness of his behaviour, his deceits and his own evil.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-9073159006778061588?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Mq4dS9HZ4nY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/9073159006778061588/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=9073159006778061588&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9073159006778061588?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9073159006778061588?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Mq4dS9HZ4nY/character-of-macbeth-in-shakespeares.html" title="Character of Macbeth in Shakespeare's 'Macbeth'" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/character-of-macbeth-in-shakespeares.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEFRHk4fip7ImA9WxNUEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8916086933531873263</id><published>2009-11-02T21:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-02T21:46:55.736+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-02T21:46:55.736+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Greater Pain</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/kevin_carter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="262" src="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/kevin_carter.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Photo copyright: Kevin Carter &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“I wish I were a child again because skinned knees are better than broken hearts.” It often happens that our pain seems to be unjustified and too much to ourselves. This situation arises when we give too much importance to our own self. Even a casual glance around us is sufficient to shake us out of the self-centred approach towards pain and suffering. The above photo by Kevin Carter serves as an alarm bell. It forces us to shake ourselves out of the personal grief. Silence prevails there but often silence is just another word for pain. It was O Henry in his story ‘Grief’ who wrote “To whom shall I tell my grief!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But then by seeing things in larger perspective, we often see our personal grief dwarfed and even vanished after a while. I am reminded of an incident I heard long ago. There was a poor boy, who used to grumble about the condition of his school shoes. But a day came when he stopped whining because he had seen a boy, who had not feet...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So while handling grief we should not stretch it that it covers the whole of our life. Instead, learn to live with it because forgetting is not that easy. Living with it means keeping in mind the troubles of the world. But one thing which needs to be kept in mind here is that focussing too much on the greater cause too might lead to creeping in of depressing tendencies. In that case the shift from personal grief to the suffering of humanity would be like jumping from frying pan into fire. It’s just that we have to accept the state of things (no matter how difficult the task is!). Acceptance means giving in to the incompetence of life. It is this sense of lacking that moves us forward...we learn to put up with what life offers...instead of wanting to have something, we learn to want what we have. And the caravan marches on....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8916086933531873263?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/VIJpo2bVFoE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8916086933531873263/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8916086933531873263&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8916086933531873263?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8916086933531873263?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/VIJpo2bVFoE/greater-pain.html" title="The Greater Pain" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/greater-pain.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYFR34zeyp7ImA9WxNUEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5180850835461512532</id><published>2009-10-31T23:30:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T23:48:36.083+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-31T23:48:36.083+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Martin Luther King on Justice</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate. Darkness cannot put out darkness. Only light can do that. Difficult and painful as it is, we must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious faith in the future. When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of now way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.&lt;br /&gt;
American Civil Rights Leader&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Very well said! But the concept of justice is subjective I suppose. We all define it in our own terms according to our own circumstances and a personalized attitude towards life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A very meaningful thought that we can’t establish truth or wipe out hatred through violence. Indeed, “Darkness cannot put out darkness.” We have to fight the darkness of ignorance in all aspects with the light of knowledge. Just as every night has a day, we too need to hope that the dark and dreary clouds of disillusion will disappear with the arrival of a new dawn as a harbinger of hope and expectation. But again as they say ‘Hope is a good breakfast but a bad supper’.  There should not be an overdose of anything not even hope. Rather our actions should match our expectations. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the last line when the leader writes that the “arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”. But sometimes we feel that the innocent are punished..how do we justify that? It’s only time that’ll tell….&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5180850835461512532?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/VrWDP6yXjBE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5180850835461512532/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5180850835461512532&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5180850835461512532?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5180850835461512532?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/VrWDP6yXjBE/martin-luther-king-on-justice.html" title="Martin Luther King on Justice" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/martin-luther-king-on-justice.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcCRXkyfSp7ImA9WxNUEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-2022123757381920218</id><published>2009-10-31T22:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T22:57:44.795+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-31T22:57:44.795+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The Outsider" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Albert Camus" /><title>'The Outsider' - A Critique</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Camus’ ‘The Outsider’ (The Stranger) is a novel projecting the dilemma of man in post-industrial society. He has not been carved out to be an ideal. On the other hand, he is just one of the ordinary, simply the run-of-the-mill member of humanity. He can’t lead the life like the heroes of the old. He accepts his destiny, compromises his lot, lives in isolation and tries ot be human in theory and practice. Ultimately, he is snubbed by the civilization (state) by means of law. His life remains absurd. He is totally indifferent. This is how Meursault leads his life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To put briefly, we may say that he is a clerk, his father is dead and he lives in Algeria. His mother lives elsewhere. Occasionally, he sees her. She dies. He goes for her cremation. The funeral ceremony is over. He comes across Perez, who is the friend of his mother. He is not happy over this. He lives in a shabby house. Raymond is a pimp. He develops friendship with him. This happens just by the way. Raymond seeks his help. He has a quarrel with certain girl. He pretends that she has been unfaithful to him. Infact, he desires to write the girl a letter so that she may come back and he can get an opportunity for revenge.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Following this, there is a quarrel in the apartment of Raymond. He beats the girl. She is an Arab woman. The police appear on the scene. Meursault says that his friend has acted under provocation. The girl’s brother begins to haunt Raymond. Next week, Raymond invites Meursault and his girlfriend to spend the day at the beach. The two Arabs come up. There is a quarrel between the Arabs on one side and Raymond and Meursault on the other. They both teach the Arabs a lesson. Time passes, then one day when Meursault is walking all alone on the beach. Suddenly, he meets the Arabs a third time. There is scorching heat of the sun. The Arab pulls out a knife and dazzles Meursault, who then gets nervous and fires at the Arab. After a moment he shoots four times into the dead body. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the second part of the novel, Meursault is tried before a court of law. Meursault is indifferent to his fate. Even after being provoked by the magistrate and his lawyer, he does not repent. The argument switches over to his not expressing grief over the death of his mother. Meursault has no religion. He says that all men must die whether they are guilty or not. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter how he spends his life or whom he kills. He begins to feel why at the end his mother “had taken on a fiance”. She wanted to make a fresh start. She was alone. He too feels that he is ready to start life afresh. He knows that at his death “people will denounce him”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The novel is certainly a displacement from hero to anti-heroism; from the ideal to the real, from rejection to acceptance of the futility of existence. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-2022123757381920218?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/ZazbochxPdk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/2022123757381920218/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=2022123757381920218&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2022123757381920218?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2022123757381920218?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/ZazbochxPdk/outsider-critique.html" title="'The Outsider' - A Critique" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/outsider-critique.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEICQHczfip7ImA9WxNWGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5368857304372288321</id><published>2009-10-18T22:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-18T22:52:41.986+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-18T22:52:41.986+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>'Fate' - a poem</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s1600-h/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s320/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Img. src.&lt;a href="http://www.hotelvaticangardeninn.com/photo-gallery/index.php"&gt; Wall Mirror&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The mirror calls&lt;br /&gt;
it invites,&lt;br /&gt;
it watches me&lt;br /&gt;
tells me my identity.&lt;br /&gt;
But I visualize the ideal,&lt;br /&gt;
my search, my goal.&lt;br /&gt;
Attainable? May be not.&lt;br /&gt;
Waiting for the miracle,&lt;br /&gt;
for an angel to descend&lt;br /&gt;
to fulfill my daring dreams.&lt;br /&gt;
There’s the brooding silence,&lt;br /&gt;
the silence over fate.&lt;br /&gt;
Life looks on with tightly pursed lips.&lt;br /&gt;
Not a sound to be heard;&lt;br /&gt;
then mirror itself speaks&lt;br /&gt;
mutters something inaudible;&lt;br /&gt;
God drops a hint,&lt;br /&gt;
but no sound again.&lt;br /&gt;
Watching my path&lt;br /&gt;
I move on listlessly…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;© Amritbir Kaur&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5368857304372288321?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jRFuOLhs_aU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5368857304372288321/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5368857304372288321&amp;isPopup=true" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5368857304372288321?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5368857304372288321?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jRFuOLhs_aU/fate-poem.html" title="'Fate' - a poem" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s72-c/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/fate-poem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYHSXk_eip7ImA9WxNWGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-9127810598994573053</id><published>2009-10-18T22:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-18T22:12:18.742+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-18T22:12:18.742+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shakespeare" /><title>'As You Like It' as Pastoral/Romantic Comedy</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;C.L. Barber says that ‘As You Like It’ is one of the sweetest and sunniest comedies of Shakespeare. Cheralton observes that it is satirical and realistic, other critics have said that it is a pastoral comedy. According to Nicoll, “a comedy ends on a note of tinkling of marital bliss. A Shakespearean comedy is different from classical comedy in which society is justified and individual is held up to ridicule so that he may conform to the social standards. Let us take the example of ‘As You Like It’. It is at once romantic ad realistic, critical and poetic, rational and imitative allowing individual freedom and justifying society. It is flexible and accomodating. It ends on a note of forgiveness. A note of reconciliation is affected between Oliver and Orlando, the senior Duke and his younger brother, Fredrick in the end. The comedy begins through a fissure in the courtly order but it ends on a note of resolution. The characters assume their normal routine. Orlando is united with Rosalind, Oliver with Celia, Silvius with Phebe and Touchtone with Audrey. After their adolescent love-making, it is expected that these pairs of lovers will lead a mature, balanced and suitable life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Romantic comedy is a comedy that suggests a variety of senses and means. Jonson and other playwrights have written realistic and satirical comedies. These comedies have ugly and harsh realities of life. But a romantic comedy creates imagination. Laughter, in realistic comedy, is directed as the follies of characters designated by another term: ‘comedy of manners’. In these comedies we laugh at characters and we find them in ourselves. Here the attitude is more sympathetic than criticism. We understand the characters and not judge them. Shakespeare demands greater involvement in his characters. The focus is on the individual and individual alone. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We can call it a romantic because it concerns with love, youth, happiness and marriage. Music makes us experienced, emotional and imaginative. It has sense of gaiety and spirit of joy. As a romantic comedy, it has loose structure also. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In ‘As You Like It’ Shakespeare takes different aspects of love between lovers and between the friends. Shakespeare has borrowed the cliché of “love at first sight” from Marlowe’s ‘Hero and Leander’ (“whoever loved who loved not at first sight”). Rosalind is banished by her uncle. She comes to the forest of Arden. Here all lovers are united. Before this, when Orlando fights a wrestling match, Rosalind is one of the onlookers. Spontaneously she offers him a gold chain as a token of her appreciation. This is the symbol of love at first sight. In doing so, she hands over her heart to him. In the forest of Arden, their love reaches at the climax. Rosalind points out the symptoms of a traditional lover and defines Orlando’s asserting that he is truly in love with her:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“A sunken eye you have not&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A pale cheek you have not.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When orlando boasts that if he does not meet her, he would die, Rosalind says: “From time to time men have died but not of love”. Another realistic and satitrical note is struck by Rosalind when she says, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Men are April when they woo,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;December when they wed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Women are May when they are maids,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But sky changes when they are wives.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sometimes we find Orlando as a conventional lover. He writes love poems but they lack “feeling”. It is bad poetry and invites the reader to laugh at the form of rhetoric. He carves Rosalind’s name on the trees. All these things reveal Orlando as a conventional lover. Then their marriage takes place in the forest. Rosalind describes how Celia fell in love with Oliver at first sight: “No sooner they must but they saw/ no sooner they saw but they fell in love with each other”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Shakespeare has presented the love of the pastoral characters. Phebe is a pastoral nymph unwilling to surrender to her lover Silvius who makes obsequies. He complains to Rosalind about her harsh treatment. Phebe on the other hand, falls in love with Rosalind disguised as Genymede.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The love of Touchstone, with Audrey is a kind of satire on love and marriage. Touchstone does not seek to marry a genuine priest, for in that case it will not be easy for him to divorce his wife. Through Touchstone and Audrey, Shakespeare presents some kind of physical love. Touchstone is too much interested in physical relationship. Shakespeare avoids the games of love like seduction or physical love. Even Touchstone is interested but Shakespeare does not develop this love. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Love experience in the play is happy and good challenge because no restriction is from the outward. The story ends on a note of rational explanation. It does not injure the expectations of the reader. The atmosphere in the forest is interesting. It is something more than romantic comedy. The play reflects Shakespeare’s ability, a certain attachment is there. Here romantic means highly sentimental and artificial. It is not only Orlando, who is mocked. The pastoral love and sensual is also mocked here. Rosalind mocks at romantic love. She is very frequently suggesting that infidelity is a challenge that lovers must accept. Her cynicism can be understood when we think that she speaks for Shakespeare. The writer insists on the reality of love. Phebe is in love Genymede. But Shakespeare does not want the settlement as Jonson or other playwrights. In this sense, it is philosophical too; Silvius and Phebe are highly sentimental characters. Touchstone and Audrey present sensual love. They are cynical, physical and sentimental both in words and actions. Marriage has a strange kind of value for Touchstone when he says: “Faithless wife is better that no wife.” Audrey too does not escape from the criticism of writer. She scores the good villain, Oliver and Celia present sudden love. Celia shows herself to practical, resourceful, even emotional and becomes a rash woman till this happens. Curing of Orlando by Rosalind is healthy and real relationship, which comes to existence and accepts the reality of love. The pair of Orlando and Rosalind has personified the refined love, true love and pure view of love. They also reinforce the idea that is romantic. This pair has stability and maturity of love. High romanticism is when Rosalind feels difficult to part from Orlando even for two hours. Then Silvius uses love conceits and these have been used by dramatist to expose the unnaturalness of pastoral love. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To conclude, it may be said that a Shakespearean comedy is a complex irreducible to one level of meaning and is aimed at nature and society, lower classes and upper classes, individual and society; contemplation and action; cynicism and love; satire and spontaneity. In fact, it is as wide and varied as the modern sensibility. It does not give a picture of untainted joy, which verges on the border of melancholy and resignation. It is tolerant, human, liberal and is definite experience contributing to the art of living boarding on common sense and outlook. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-9127810598994573053?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/J8WXKjVIINk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/9127810598994573053/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=9127810598994573053&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9127810598994573053?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9127810598994573053?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/J8WXKjVIINk/as-you-like-it-as-pastoralromantic.html" title="'As You Like It' as Pastoral/Romantic Comedy" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/as-you-like-it-as-pastoralromantic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMEQn4yeCp7ImA9WxNVEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-2385515030680317612</id><published>2009-10-14T11:16:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-21T23:20:03.090+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-21T23:20:03.090+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Colour of Dreams...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s1600-h/midnight_dreams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392396659335554562" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s400/midnight_dreams.jpg" style="display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 314px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;“You see the thing and say ‘Why?’. But I dream of things that never were and say ‘Why not?’”&lt;br /&gt;
G.B. Shaw&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is often surprising to see how quickly our dreams lose colour, even before the feeling of their existence sinks in. sometimes they do materialize as our companions but at other they simply fade away into oblivion. And we keep on glancing back in the same old direction just to catch a glimpse of the gone by. The mind wants to detach itself but the heart stays steadfast holding on to the memories so tight as if fearing that the dreams might abandon us. The fact is that dreams never abandon us, they might relocate themselves into the background and stay put in a quiet corner of our heart…but then, they are again lit bright in our eyes at the slightest hint of remembrance. Remember its not the dream that is broken it is the sleep which comes to an end. Waking up does not mean the death of a dream but stopping to dream again is certainly is. Former Indian President, Dr. Abdul Kalam rightly said, “Dream is not that what you see in sleep…dream is the thing which does not allow you to sleep.” How well put! Never let your eyes feel lonely without the dreams; they’ll lose their beauty without them.&lt;br /&gt;
The quotation by G.B.Shaw presents before us two different viewpoints about our approach towards life. The person who asks “Why?” is the one who complains about the existence of everything, the one who feels everything happening around him is wrong. He is always at a loss to find out an explanation to find out the reasons for the events taking place around him. The persons who ask “Why not?” is the dreamer (someone like me!!!) who is always weaving stories around something that never materializes in his life, and someone who is always wanting to fulfill his dreams, which vanish in no time…leaving only a trail of memories behind. But life moves on, adopting new hues and new externalities with each passing moment. But we all carry our past within us…total detachment is never possible. This attachment to the past is what carries us forward, providing us with new hopes to achieve what we aspired for and always dreamt of…May God give us the courage to work towards achieving our dreams and also the courage to move forward with a view to continue this chain of dreams even when some of them stay unfulfilled…. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-2385515030680317612?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/F5s7hCbOgaw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/2385515030680317612/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=2385515030680317612&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2385515030680317612?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2385515030680317612?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/F5s7hCbOgaw/colour-of-dreams.html" title="The Colour of Dreams..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s72-c/midnight_dreams.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/colour-of-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUMRHk6cCp7ImA9WxNWFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1145824430038326388</id><published>2009-10-13T23:16:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-13T23:21:25.718+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-13T23:21:25.718+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wordsworth" /><title>Democratic Note in Wordsworth's Poetry</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;SOME VIEWPOINTS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wordsworth was brought up in a democratic environment. The principles of the revolution were ingrained in his nature.&lt;br /&gt;He is the first to strike the true democratic note in English poetry. He makes the lowliest rustics the heroes of his poetry, glorifies them and brings out the essential heroism of their souls. He learns lessons of virtue, faith and fortitude from them.&lt;br /&gt;It was the French Revolution which made him the poet of Man by bringing him into contact with human misery. Hence, he became as much a poet of man as of Nature. Nature herself took on a sober colouring in his poetry.&lt;br /&gt;It was through Nature that Wordsworth came to Man and not vice-versa. He loved Nature and also those who live in her lap. He shows man in his surroundings. Nature glorifies Man and reduces the intensity of his suffering.&lt;br /&gt;He believes in this basic identity of all, to his mind there is no essential difference between Man and objects and creatures of Nature. This oneness is indicated through numerous comparisons. Many of his characters are incarnations of the particular mood and spirit of nature.&lt;br /&gt;The same laws govern Man and nature. Hence, Nature can be the moral teacher of Man. Life in the lap of Nature is best: materialism is the cause of all human suffering.&lt;br /&gt;Why does Wordsworth prefer humble rustic life? He explains his reasons in the Preface. He wanted to understand the heart of Man. Therefore, he studies the essential human passions, and this can be done in the simplest societies. He studies Man rather than men. His characters are types rather than individuals.&lt;br /&gt;His study of Man is limited and one-sided. He could draw only simple natures. He has no evil characters.&lt;br /&gt;He went to the child for the same reasons as he went to the humble rustics, that is, to see into the heart of things.&lt;br /&gt;He attached great importance to childhood memories. He believed that the child symbolically lives the various a stage of life through which human race has passed. Hence, a study of childhood memories can help much in the study of the growth of human consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;In the great ‘Immortality Ode’ the child is glorified as ‘the mighty prophet and seer blest’ for he has visions of a prior existence in the blessed world.&lt;br /&gt;Wordsworth’s attitude is poetic and mystical rather than philosophical and should be taken as such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1145824430038326388?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/daYcMxr_iKw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1145824430038326388/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1145824430038326388&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1145824430038326388?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1145824430038326388?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/daYcMxr_iKw/democratic-note-in-wordsworths-poetry.html" title="Democratic Note in Wordsworth's Poetry" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/democratic-note-in-wordsworths-poetry.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08CQ3w7fyp7ImA9WxNWF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8713632944718496582</id><published>2009-10-09T23:20:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-16T23:27:42.207+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-16T23:27:42.207+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>The Absence</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s1600-h/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390659929551868930" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s400/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Img. source: &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/102106623/"&gt;Deviant Art&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
My hands are full&lt;br /&gt;
but not  a speck carried,&lt;br /&gt;
I have lost being the winner&lt;br /&gt;
I am an innocent sinner.&lt;br /&gt;
This world that I have –&lt;br /&gt;
it’s something so strange,&lt;br /&gt;
something so familiar yet&lt;br /&gt;
miles apart…&lt;br /&gt;
there’s nothing I can change,&lt;br /&gt;
nothing, nothing…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;© Amritbir Kaur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8713632944718496582?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/36aJiy0UxLE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8713632944718496582/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8713632944718496582&amp;isPopup=true" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8713632944718496582?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8713632944718496582?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/36aJiy0UxLE/absence.html" title="The Absence" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s72-c/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/absence.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YHRn45eSp7ImA9WxNWEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3543318145146563557</id><published>2009-10-08T23:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-08T23:35:37.021+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-08T23:35:37.021+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Emotions...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Emotions are a God’s way of way of making life beautiful. Writing, especially poetry, is simply emotions put into words. And when once penned down, lead to a relaxed state of mind. Some might feel it is easier to pen down one’s thoughts rather than expressing them verbally. It varies from person to person. The thing that matters is that we need to express ourselves. Piling up all the thoughts and emotions inside us takes its toll on the mental equilibrium. Even otherwise, saying the thing is better than not expressing ever. Words might be misunderstood sometimes but silence is often the most misquoted one. So the next time you have an urge to go vocal, go ahead with courage. Have the conviction that either things would turn out to be the way you want or you will have a new lesson to learn with a host of beautiful memories stored in some lonely corner of your heart, raked up by a stray thought years later when you think you had forgotten all…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3543318145146563557?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/rS68jnhvV3I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3543318145146563557/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3543318145146563557&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3543318145146563557?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3543318145146563557?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/rS68jnhvV3I/emotions.html" title="Emotions..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/emotions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEGRng8cCp7ImA9WxNWEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-6654164709533377394</id><published>2009-10-08T21:22:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-08T21:30:27.678+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-08T21:30:27.678+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Literary awards" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Man Booker Prize winner" /><title>Man Booker Prize 2009</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s1600-h/hilary_mantel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s400/hilary_mantel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390259399124060610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man Booker Prize for the year 2009 has been won by Hilary Mantel for her book ‘Wolf Hall’. The book deals with the fictionalized life of Thomas Cromwell. It is set in 1520s, related to Cromwell’s rise to power in the Tudor court of King Henry VIII. The book has been a favourite ever since the release of the shortlisted entries.The other shortlisted authors were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# A.S. Byatt for ‘The Children’s Book’&lt;br /&gt;# J.M. Coetzee for ‘Summertime’&lt;br /&gt;# Adam Foulds’ ‘The Quickening Maze’&lt;br /&gt;# Simon Mawer’s ‘The Glass Room’&lt;br /&gt;# Sarah Waters’ ‘The Little Stranger’&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-6654164709533377394?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/hMEVGkbvIPU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/6654164709533377394/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=6654164709533377394&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6654164709533377394?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6654164709533377394?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/hMEVGkbvIPU/man-booker-prize-2009.html" title="Man Booker Prize 2009" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s72-c/hilary_mantel.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/man-booker-prize-2009.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQNSH47eCp7ImA9WxNXFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8173576835845165089</id><published>2009-09-29T22:40:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-02T19:36:39.000+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-02T19:36:39.000+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Aspirations, Expectations and Needs</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5-rSuC2PQVQMke8cWm3n3nsJAlY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5-rSuC2PQVQMke8cWm3n3nsJAlY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5-rSuC2PQVQMke8cWm3n3nsJAlY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5-rSuC2PQVQMke8cWm3n3nsJAlY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;“Keep high aspirations&lt;br /&gt;Moderate expectations&lt;br /&gt;And small needs.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The quote reveals something we have all experienced or felt but couldn’t put the things this way. Our aspirations do help us to rise high in life. If we don’t aspire to achieve something, our life would be directionless as a ship without a rudder. We set goals that we would like to accomplish during our lifetime. But what happens when things don’t happen the way we imagined, there is a trail of disappointment in the life – the reason being we set a condition for the fulfillment of our dreams and aspirations. The same is the problem with day-dreaming – we weave stories around the persons or objects that have not yet happened in our lives. The path of day dreaming is beautiful but the journey back is very painful. The solution to lessen disappointment lies in keeping moderate expectations. We shouldn’t expect too much from life. Some of our dreams might stay unfulfilled forever… telling stories of the days gone by. Moreover, keeping moderate expectations from a person too would help to maintain a successful relationship, because when you don’t expect you’ll be in for a nice surprise. Then comes the case having small needs. Our needs reflect our outlook towards life. The number of needs should be restricted as they are not an indicator of success and happiness. Money can’t buy happiness, we’ve all heard that. Moreover, dreaming of something and feeling a need for the same are, many a times, two different things. For instance, a person might dream of a very costly car but might not have the need for owning the same. Such dream simply lets him enjoy the little pleasures of life.&lt;br /&gt;But life can’t be lived in water-tight compartments. We are, indeed, the fallible human beings. We dream too often, and when they are dashed to the ground, we grumble, mourn, blame God, find faults, hide our tears lurking in laughing eyes, complain when life pauses… this is the stuff that we humans are made of. After all this, again trying to locate a ray of hope in the dark and dreary world…and, thus, we keep on moving…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8173576835845165089?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Jx_lunQXLD0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8173576835845165089/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8173576835845165089&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8173576835845165089?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8173576835845165089?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Jx_lunQXLD0/aspirations-expectations-and-needs.html" title="Aspirations, Expectations and Needs" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/aspirations-expectations-and-needs.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMBQ3o4fCp7ImA9WxNXEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5192498963067897864</id><published>2009-09-29T08:46:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-29T08:50:52.434+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-29T08:50:52.434+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="literary criticism" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="British poets" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="John Donne" /><title>Use of Conceits in Donne's Poetry</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8iDOa5w_xXUroFM0ICzlEz-O77w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8iDOa5w_xXUroFM0ICzlEz-O77w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8iDOa5w_xXUroFM0ICzlEz-O77w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8iDOa5w_xXUroFM0ICzlEz-O77w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Clearly the seventeenth century had the courage of its metaphors and they made them the organic parts of its staple, imposed them on the nearest and the farthest things with equal vigour as clearly as the nineteenth century lacked this courage and was half-heartedly metaphorical or content with similes. The difference between the literary qualities of the two periods is not the difference in degree between poets. It is something which had happened to the mind of England between the Age of Donne, Crashaw, Lord Herbert and the time of Tennyson and Browning. It is the difference between the intellectual poet and the reflective poet. Tennyson and Browning are the poets who think, but they do not feel their thought as immediately as the odour of a rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thought to Donne was an experience, it modified his sensibility. When a poet’s mind is equipped perfectly for its work, it is constantly amalgamating the disparate experiences. The ordinary man’s experience is chaotic, fragmentary and irregular. The latter cooks something or reads about cooking, and these two experiences have nothing to do with each other or with the noise of the typewriter or the smell of the rose. In the mind of the poet, these experiences are always forming new wholes. Donne had this unique genius, which T.S. Eliot calls ‘unification of sensibility’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The metaphysical poetry abounds in conceits. A conceit is a far-fetched comparison, a comparison between dissimilar things, a comparison between objects which have little in common with each other. Dr. Johnson called it “the most heterogeneous ideas yoked by violence together”. A conceit may be brief or it may be elaborate. The conceits used by Donne are learned. They are drawn from a wide range of subjects such as science exploration, medieval philosophy, mathematics, astronomy and others. Conceits impart an intellectual tone to the poetry. The intellectual conceits add weight and illustrate the feeling giving rise to the impression of ‘unification of sensibility’. Ransom states, “To define a conceit is to define a small-scale metaphysical poetry.” A conceit is actually a comparison, whose ingenuity is more striking than its justness, that is, when two things which appear to be completely different from one another, are stated to be similar that one can be used to explain and analyze the other. Helen Gardener says, “A brief comparison can be a conceit, if two things patently unlike or which we should never think of together, are shown to be alike in single point in such a way or in such a context that we feel their incongruity.”  Here a conceit is like a spark made by striking two stones together. After the flash the stones are just two stones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conceits in Donne’s poetry are not a piece of decoration, they are functional. They are used to persuade, define, illustrate or prove a point. A poem has something to say which the conceit explicates, or something to urge which the conceit helps to forward. They are the most effective vehicles of Donne’s mode of perception. Their farfetchedness adds a touch of miraculous to his poetry. In the words of Joan Bennett, “The purpose of an image in Donne’s poetry is to diffuse the emotional experience by an intellectual parallel.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another significant aspect of Donne’s metaphysical conceit is that it cannot be isolated from its context, the whole poem. Like the conceits of Shakespeare, Donne’s are born of the given dramatic movement to illustrate the relationship of characters and relationships of ideas. The conceits of Donne have an organic growth and proliferation, receiving sustenance from the intensity and complexity of the given experience. That is why even though far-fetched, they have an astonishing clarity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It remains to be seen how Donne rushes from one intellectual hyperbole to another, including as a habit, a vivid range of speculation within a single example. In ‘The Canonization’ the two lovers moving round each other like flies or consuming themselves like tapers; or the images of the eagle and dove – the violent preying on the weak,  and ultimately the riddle of the phoenix indicate the whole process of love from courtship to consummation of love. Because of sheer force of love ‘they die and rise the same’. The poem then leads to the lovers being regarded as the martyrs; saints of love will make them model of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To express the comprehensive nature of love, Donne makes a scintillating use of Elizabethan circle imagery and encompasses infinitude harmony like the two concentric spheres of the Ptolemic universe. Such an idea underlies the beautiful ‘A Valediction, Forbidding Mourning’. He argues and gives a proof by analogy in the most famous conceit of “the two legs of a compass”. Donne’s beloved is the fixed foot around which he moves and hence persuades his wife or beloved not to mourn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the poem ‘Good Morrow’ the two lovers are compared to two hemispheres which unite to form an ideal and a better world than the two hemispheres of the earth itself. They are ‘without sharp north, without declining west’. This perfect and ideal union they achieve through the eyes of each other. The sharp North implies coldness and indifference to which their love is not subject and declining West symbolizes decay and death from which lovers are free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ‘Batter my Heart’ Donne compares himself to a usurped town. At the same time there is an image drawn from the purification of metal, by knocking, blowing and shining it. He has referred to God as a tinker (a mender of old pots). The third conceit he uses is the portrayal of man-God relationship through lover-beloved relationship. In this poem that poet addresses God in His three-fold capacity as Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. He calls the Reasoning faculty, the Viceroy of God. In ‘The Extasie’ the souls of the lovers are compared to two equal armies confronting and negotiating with each other. Again love without an outlet in physical expression is like a Prince languishing in prison says Donne. In ‘Go and Catch a Falling Star’, unconventional imagery is used to convey the view that there is no woman in the world who is both beautiful and true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ‘The Flea’, the flea is a symbol of the poet’s passionate plea for physical and sensuous love. Donne compares the flea to a temple and to a marriage bed. Just as the two lovers are united in the temple into a bond of marriage, so the two bloods have been united in the body of flea. Its body is a sacred temple where their marriage has taken place. The killing of the flea would be an act of triple murder – murder of the flea, murder of the lover and her own murder. This is a sin and so she must spare the flea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ‘The Sunne Rising’, there is the same outburst of pride in his discovery of a new world richer than any of the Elizabethan voyagers since it is ‘both the India’s spice and Myne’. The last stanza begins with Donne’s favourite antithesis: the nullity of worldly riches as contrasted with the wealth of love. This idea links naturally with the circle imagery so that the lyric ends with the thought of the eternal union of two hemispheres, which are perfect, infinite and indestructible – like the world of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the poem ‘A Valediction of Weeping’, Donne employs images from a variety of sources. The lover’s tears are like precious coins because they bear the stamp of the beloved (an image drawn from mintage). The tears are ‘pregnant of thee’ – a complex image, conveying the impression of the beloved’s reflection in the drop of tear. In ‘Good Friday’ the soul is compared to a sphere, and Donne treats the metaphor elaborately. Planetary motions are brought into the poem to illustrate feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donne has made a remarkable use of conceits in his poems. His conceits are learned, which are drawn from a wide range of subjects. His conceits impart intellectual tone to his poetry. They are not decorative but functional. They are used to illustrate or to convince. They cannot be isolated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5192498963067897864?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/X-lx1D7qPSM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5192498963067897864/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5192498963067897864&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5192498963067897864?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5192498963067897864?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/X-lx1D7qPSM/use-of-conceits-in-donnes-poetry.html" title="Use of Conceits in Donne's Poetry" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/use-of-conceits-in-donnes-poetry.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcHQ3w8fip7ImA9WxNQEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-246928281273124278</id><published>2009-09-18T22:18:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-18T22:43:52.276+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-18T22:43:52.276+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Mountain Story</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ze8pUe5BR9T892ntycY2bTX3f4o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ze8pUe5BR9T892ntycY2bTX3f4o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ze8pUe5BR9T892ntycY2bTX3f4o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ze8pUe5BR9T892ntycY2bTX3f4o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SrO_vBcOazI/AAAAAAAAAaY/-PjEO_ygpjw/s1600-h/mountains.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SrO_vBcOazI/AAAAAAAAAaY/-PjEO_ygpjw/s400/mountains.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382856794199452466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's an inspiring story I would like to share with my readers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A son and his father were walking on the mountains. Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams: “AAAhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To his surprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain: “AAAhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curious, he yells: “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He receives the answer: “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angered at the response, he screams: “Coward!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He receives the answer: “Coward!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks to his father and asks: “What’s going on?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father smiles and says: “My son, pay attention.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he screams to the mountain: “I admire you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice answers: “I admire you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the man screams: “You are a champion!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice answers: “You are a champion!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is surprised, but does not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the father explains: “People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE. It gives y ou back everything you say or do. Our life is simply a reflection of our actions. If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart. If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence. This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life; life will give you back everything you have given to it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT’S A REFLECTION OF YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Source Unknown)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-246928281273124278?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/UOUGi7DJH1E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/246928281273124278/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=246928281273124278&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/246928281273124278?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/246928281273124278?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/UOUGi7DJH1E/mountain-story.html" title="The Mountain Story" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SrO_vBcOazI/AAAAAAAAAaY/-PjEO_ygpjw/s72-c/mountains.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/mountain-story.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04NQXw7cSp7ImA9WxNQEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8464902566223755873</id><published>2009-09-18T21:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-18T21:36:30.209+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-18T21:36:30.209+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="English Poetry" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="British poets" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="William Blake" /><title>Blake's Symbolism</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HnfiGy8hxIeLfvPFRpMaLLOaH-g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HnfiGy8hxIeLfvPFRpMaLLOaH-g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HnfiGy8hxIeLfvPFRpMaLLOaH-g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HnfiGy8hxIeLfvPFRpMaLLOaH-g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Symbolism is a mode of expression in which a writer depicts indirectly through the medium of another object. But symbolism is not a mere substitution of one object for another. There is much more to it. Symbolism is the art of evoking an object little by little to r veal a mood or emotion or some mysterious region of human psyche. However, this is only one aspect of symbolism and it may be called the personal aspect on the human plane. The other aspect is transcendental – that is, using objects to symbolize a vast and ideal world of which the real world is merely an imperfect representation. A symbolist is a seer of a prophet who can look beyond the objects of the real world and convey the essence of the ideal world which human mind tries to express.&lt;br /&gt;Blake is one of the greatest symbolist poets of the world. The greatness of his poetry lies in the sweep of his imagination and symbolic dimension it acquires after every fresh reading. Blake is unique because of his ability to communicate beyond immediate context and space. Blake gave the doctrine that “all had originally one language and one religion”. It implies that the similarities between myths, rituals and doctrines of various religions are more significant that their disparities. Blake wants to suggest that a study of comparative religions, morphology of myths, rituals and theology can lead us to a single visionary conception, a vision of the fallen and created world, which has been redeemed by divine sacrifice and is progressing towards regeneration.&lt;br /&gt;By postulating the world of imagination higher than that of reality Blake suggests a way of closing the gap, which is completed by identifying God with human imagination. In ‘The Marriage of Heaven and Hell’ Blake wrote: “Man is All Imagination. God is Man and exists in us and we in Him.” In his creative activity, an artist expresses the creative activity of God; as all men are in God, so all creators are in the creator. The “divine image” and the “human abstract” apart from signifying oneness of man and God, also forms the basis of Blake’s theory of good and evil. Civilization is in more than one sense supernatural and in its evolution and development man’s superiority over nature has been proved. The central symbol in all of Blake’s works is the city. Of all the animals, man is the most maladjusted to Nature, that is why he outdistances the animals and it is the triumph of his imagination that he creates a world of his own dreams.&lt;br /&gt;In his poems Blake does not present ordinary events common men see and understand them, rather describes spiritual events which have to be portrayed symbolically in order to render them intelligible. Blake uses the familiar figures of the Shepherd and the Lamb, which can be easily understood. In ‘Songs of Innocence’ all desires are innocent, even discipline is innocent and is a source of happiness. Describing innocence in his poem ‘Holy Thursday’ Blake writes:&lt;br /&gt;“’T was on Holy Thursday, their&lt;br /&gt;Innocent faces clean&lt;br /&gt;The children walking two&lt;br /&gt;and two, in red and blue and green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercy and kindness in human relationships not only make for emotional, spiritual and moral health of society but also abstract representations of Divine Will:&lt;br /&gt;“For Mercy has a human heart,&lt;br /&gt;Pity a human face,&lt;br /&gt;And love, the human form divine&lt;br /&gt;And Peace, the human dress.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is by now a well established fact that the ‘Lamb’ in Blake’s poems is Christ himself. The word ‘Lamb’ refers to children in his poems. ‘A Lamb’ is a name of affection used by the parents for their children. Symbolically, the Lamb of God is Christ. In his poem ‘The Little Black Boy’ Blake writes: “Around his Golden tent like lambs rejoice”.&lt;br /&gt;It is even clearer in the poem ‘The Lamb’ when he says: “Little Lamb, who made thee?” Apart from using Biblical symbols, Blake also has a system of his own symbols. He uses traditional symbols in a different way. For instance, the lily flower is used by him as a symbol of purity of love and also of naturalness and open-heartedness in love. By sunflower he represents the longing of youth for freedom in love. &lt;br /&gt;Nature plays a different role in Blake’s poems that those of the Romantics. It was Keats (a Romantic poet) who wrote:&lt;br /&gt;“To bend with apples the moss’d cottage trees&lt;br /&gt;To fill each fruit with ripeness to the core.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lines having vivid and pictorial imagery have something voluptuously sensuous about it. But Blake is not attracted by ‘God’s plenty’ in ‘Nature’s Paradise’. He once wrote: “Natural objects always did and do now, weaken, deaden and obliterate imagination in me.”  He uses the objects of nature so as to symbolize various emotions and moods through them. Blake is not concerned with the outside world but the world within – with mind and imagination. The terror of Nature is unleashed in the image of the tiger. There is a difference between the images of the lion and the tiger. The lion can be turned into a harmless animal while the tiger is not. Blake once wrote that the lion is symbolic of wisdom. The lion in the poem ‘Night’ is a contrast to the tiger of ‘The Tiger’. About tiger Blake writes:&lt;br /&gt;“Tyger, tyger! Burning bright&lt;br /&gt;In the forests of ht night,&lt;br /&gt;What immortal hand or eye&lt;br /&gt;Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blake was against any type of restrictions. That’s why in a large number of poems he condemns authority. For instance, in ‘The Garden of Love’ it is the church, which he criticizes for exercising undue authority. The garden here represents spontaneous natural delight. In ‘The Chimney Sweeper’ (from ‘Songs of Experience’), where Blake talks of the miserable plight of the child (the chimney sweeper), he holds responsible three authorities for the plight – Church, King and Parents. Blake says about the parents of the child:&lt;br /&gt;“And are gone to praise God and His Priest and King&lt;br /&gt;Who make up a Heaven of our misery.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another poem ‘The Little School Boy’ it is the school teacher, who represents the cruel authority,&lt;br /&gt;“Under a cruel eye outworn&lt;br /&gt;The little ones spend the day&lt;br /&gt;In sighing and dismay.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morton D. Paley in his essay ‘The Tyger of Wrath’ writes: “Blake’s images have meanings which may in part be construed from the internal logic of the poem but which also depend at least in part upon meanings established elsewhere, in Blake’s other poems or in the traditional sources from which  he drew. Meaning is affected by context, though not entirely determined by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8464902566223755873?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jW_N4iIHk8g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8464902566223755873/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8464902566223755873&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8464902566223755873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8464902566223755873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jW_N4iIHk8g/blakes-symbolism.html" title="Blake's Symbolism" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/blakes-symbolism.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MESH87eyp7ImA9WxNQEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3058793348639717586</id><published>2009-09-15T21:38:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-15T21:46:49.103+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-15T21:46:49.103+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>What is fate?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/clrlR5yrzWcAe8nljx7dzG87OHw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/clrlR5yrzWcAe8nljx7dzG87OHw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/clrlR5yrzWcAe8nljx7dzG87OHw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/clrlR5yrzWcAe8nljx7dzG87OHw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Sq-9dr98ksI/AAAAAAAAAZw/CNWKHWhBAKE/s1600-h/fate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Sq-9dr98ksI/AAAAAAAAAZw/CNWKHWhBAKE/s400/fate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381728397447434946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;pic src:&lt;a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/"&gt;Wild River Review&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What is fate? Can we change it? Philosophers and thinkers have been trying to analyze the concept of fate since times immemorial. We try to put into words our opinions on fate. We often find it easy to put the blame of all our failures on fate. It comes in handy. But how right is it? Or how much percentage of the blame can we justifiably lay on it? Or is it solely responsible? Do we humans have the capacity to change it? What is fate actually? These are some of the questions that keep cropping up in the mind time and again. And that too without satisfactory answers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have often tried to find answers to those questions. But whenever the dreams are dashed to the ground or the hopes remain unfulfilled, I am at once tempted to blame it on my fate. Often consoling myself by saying, “This had to happen, there’s no other way out.” But heart craves for a more strong logic. Then finding it hard to decipher the ways of God, I resign to my Fate, not knowing what to do next. But life goes, only grudges remain and the heart saying, “What if this had happened! What if things had been like that!” But then I move on, finding out a new way and following it with mind and heart involved in the journey. There’s a fear lurking in a corner of the heart, “What will I do? What would happen next…? A host of other fears crowding me… but I march on as if nothing would go wrong now… and life goes on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3058793348639717586?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/n5x-pkVe5SE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3058793348639717586/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3058793348639717586&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3058793348639717586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3058793348639717586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/n5x-pkVe5SE/what-is-fate.html" title="What is fate?" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Sq-9dr98ksI/AAAAAAAAAZw/CNWKHWhBAKE/s72-c/fate.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-is-fate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UNR30_eSp7ImA9WxNRFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5315387503521676508</id><published>2009-09-11T18:40:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-11T18:51:36.341+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-11T18:51:36.341+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="literary criticism" /><title>Johnson's Preface to Shakespeare</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9OEg4ZI4nKkN-nJu9gONC3qVwo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9OEg4ZI4nKkN-nJu9gONC3qVwo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9OEg4ZI4nKkN-nJu9gONC3qVwo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9OEg4ZI4nKkN-nJu9gONC3qVwo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Samuel Johnson’s Preface to 'The Plays of William Shakespeare’ is a classical document of literary criticism. It is proof enough of the qualities of lucidity, energy and individuality on the part of Johnson, who has presented before us an impartial and objective judgment of Shakespeare. He has excelled his guru, Dryden in superbly defending the tragi-comedy.&lt;br /&gt;In the Preface, Johnson has enumerated the faults of Shakespeare about which Raleigh writes, “The detailed analysis of the faults is a fine piece of criticism and has never been seriously challenged.”&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that needs to be observed is why the obscurities have crept into the writings of Shakespeare. The reasons are – careless manner of publication; use of colloquial English; use of many allusions, references etc. to topical events and personalities; rapid flow of ideas that often hurries him to move to the second thought before the first one is fully elaborated. Johnson in writing this Preface has performed the service to Shakespeare in making obscurities and confusing clearly understandable.&lt;br /&gt;The faults of Shakespeare as elaborated by Johnson are:&lt;br /&gt;• There is a lack of propriety as the jests are gross and the pleasantries licentious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Shakespeare sacrifices virtue to convenience. He makes no just distribution of good and evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• The tragi-comedies (neither comedies nor tragedies) are not in accordance with the rules. Moreover, some plots are loosely constructed and have improbable endings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Then there is lack of poetic justice especially in tragedies. The major figures suffer more that they deserve – the punishment inflicted on them is disproportionate to their sins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• There are instances of Shakespeare’s violation of chronology (called anachronisms).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• As regards the faults in tragedies, Johnson was of the opinion that the display of passion which urgency forces out are for the most part striking and energetic but when he tries his own inventions the result is humour, meanness and obscurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• The fault in comedies is that Shakespeare is commonly gross in his jests. Neither his gentleman nor ladies possess any delicacy. They are not sufficiently distinguished from Shakespeare’s clowns by the possession of refined manners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Dr. Johnson is of the opinion, “In narration he affects disproportionate pomp of diction and a wearisome train of circumlocution, and tells the incident imperfectly in many words, which might have been more plainly delivered in few.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Shakespeare has also been blamed by Johnson for not following the unities of time and place. At this point, Johnson also presents his defense of Shakespeare for failing to observe the unities. “The unities of time and place are always to be sacrificed to the nobler beauties of variety and instruction”, says Johnson, although unity of action must be maintained.  Johnson actually in refuting the unities of time and place gives up his neo-classical garb and becomes a liberal critic in this regard. He justifies this by saying that the audience knows that it is only a stage and the players are mere actors and not for a moment do they believe what they are seeing is literally true. Even if they do for a moment they can easily imagine a little more – they can imagine the stage as different places.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Talking of his historical approach to literature Johnson pointed out the limitation under which Shakespeare worked, saying that Shakespeare wrote for uncultured audience and therefore his plays are full of exciting incidents and shows. His (Shakespeare’s) plots borrowed from novels – he chose the most popular, read by many. Johnson was of the view that literature is not written according to a fixed pattern but is conditioned by a writer’s age and environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Note:&lt;/span&gt; The opinions expressed here are only as expressed in Johnson's Preface to Shakespeare. I myself am a great admirer of Shakespeare's works. But we have to be objective sometimes for being true to the genre of literary criticism and take into consideration all the aspects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5315387503521676508?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Tvj19dgW9gg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5315387503521676508/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5315387503521676508&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5315387503521676508?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5315387503521676508?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Tvj19dgW9gg/johnsons-preface-to-shakespeare.html" title="Johnson's Preface to Shakespeare" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/09/johnsons-preface-to-shakespeare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
