It's also hilariousif you have read the fic.
The first post can be found here, the second can be found here, and the third one is here. If it matters to you, please be aware that these posts about obscure, year-old stories are pock-marked with spoilers.
Half a dozen horsemen, irregularly strung out, began feeling their way down the forty-five-degree angle of the slag-and-sand slope. This one, like the first, was of logs, but it was taller, more elaborate within and without. His current problem was to try to make a moat by letting in the Loire; but having no engineering education, and commanding no one who understood the process, the venture had so far been confined to digging fine-looking ditches and then seeing them either washed quickly away, or else coquettishly avoided by the choosy water of the river.
Griselda, fatigued, dismounted in the pasture halfway up. Pale and lovely, she sat in the last lush grass of October.
Only when a bearer of water had come and returned, did Griselda move and whisper: He had a dread of anything happening to her delicate health. Despite his oppressive deadpan, Fitzgerald tries here and there to be playful, to no real end.
As Philippe starts to become a competent ruler of his ancestral lands, he realizes that his girlfriend and his henchman both speak a strange language and hold secret influence over the locals.
His military prowess and burgeoning administrative skills will mean nothing unless he allies himself with an unpredictable force, the local witch cult: Perhaps any sociopolitical message is an accidental echo: Fitzgerald told editor Maxwell Perkins that he enjoyed the escapism of writing about medieval Europe, even if it was risky to write a massive novel that revisited Philippe at three phases of his year career.
The night mist fell. From the moon it rolled, clustered about the spires and towers, and then settled below them, so that the dreaming peaks were still in lofty aspiration toward the sky.
Figures that dotted the day like ants now brushed along as shadowy ghosts, in and out of the foreground. The Gothic halls and cloisters were infinitely more mysterious as they loomed suddenly out of the darkness, outlined each by myriad faint squares of yellow light.
Indefinitely from somewhere a bell boomed the quarter-hour, and Amory, pausing by the sun-dial, stretched himself out full length on the damp grass.
Evening after evening the senior singing had drifted over the campus in melancholy beauty, and through the shell of his undergraduate consciousness had broken a deep and reverent devotion to the gray walls and Gothic peaks and all they symbolized as warehouses of dead ages.
The tower that in view of his window sprang upward, grew into a spire, yearning higher until its uppermost tip was half invisible against the morning skies, gave him the first sense of the transiency and unimportance of the campus figures except as holders of the apostolic succession.
He liked knowing that Gothic architecture, with its upward trend, was peculiarly appropriate to universities, and the idea became personal to him. The silent stretches of green, the quiet halls with an occasional late-burning scholastic light held his imagination in a strong grasp, and the chastity of the spire became a symbol of this perception.
Where now he realized only his own inconsequence, effort would make him aware of his own impotency and insufficiency. To a status-addled Princetonian, the Gothic embodies imagination, ambition, humility, and the weight of tradition all at once.
A rainy walk across campus can make the heart swell with giddy confusion. The nod to Gothic architecture is also a sign of the times. Fitzgerald knows to tap into not only the romanticism of Gothic Revival architecture, but also its pretensions.
He failed to make sense of the s through the lens of medievalism, but he was smart to see that the Middle Ages could be fertile ground for ambiguous symbolism and complex allusions.In The Great Gatsby, the author F.
Scott Fitzgerald shows the destruction of morals in society. The characters in this novel, all lose their morals in. Camping and hiking in Big Sur. Big Sur is a popular destination for EVERYONE (literally everyone and their mom are pulled over on every turnout snapping photos) and as a result it is difficult to obtain a camping reservation.
During his days as Harvard's influential president, Charles W. Eliot made a frequent assertion: If you were to spend just 15 minutes a day reading the right books, a quantity that could fit on a five foot shelf, you could give yourself a proper liberal education.
The publisher P. F. Collier and Son loved the idea and asked Eliot to assemble the right collection of works. There's also one instance from the "Waking The Dragons" filler arc in the actual anime, where Kaiba and Mokuba get a car and write a , dollar check for it before driving it out of the lot, over the salesman's protests.
10 Signs You Know What Matters.
Values are what bring distinction to your life. You don't find them, you choose them. And when you do, you're on the path to fulfillment. Beliefs, Morals and Values Application - #Beliefs, Morals and Values, # Beliefs, Morals and Values Application According to Webster’s II New College Dictionary a belief is the mental act, condition, or habit of placing trust or confidence in a person or thing and mental acceptance of or conviction in the truth or actuality of something ().