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Slide1:

THEY WERE A TWOSOME, SAYING "YOUR DADDY" AND "SWEET HOME" IN A WAY THAT MADE IT CLEAR BOTH BELONGED TO THEM AND NOT TO HER. THAT HER OWN FATHER'S ABSENCE WAS NOT HERS. ONCE THE ABSENCE HAD BELONGED TO GRANDMA BABY—A SON, DEEPLY MOURNED BECAUSE HE WAS THE ONE WHO HAD BOUGHT HER OUT OF THERE. THEN IT WAS HER MOTHER'S HUSBAND. NOW IT WAS THIS HAZELNUT STRANGER'S ABSENT FRIEND. ONLY THOSE WHO KNEW HIM ("KNEW HIM WELL") COULD CLAIM HIS ABSENCE FOR THEMSELVES.  

Slide2:

Good Hamlet, cast thy  nighted  color off, ​ And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. ​ Do not for ever with thy  vailèd  lids ​ Seek for thy noble father in the dust. ​ Thou  know'st  'tis common; all that lives must die, ​ Passing through nature to eternity   

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O, that this too too sullied flesh would melt,​ Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,​Or that the Everlasting had not fixed​ His canon ' gainst self-slaughter! O God, God,​How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable​ Seem to me all the uses of this world!​ Fie on 't! ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden​That grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature​Possess it merely .

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In many cases a true war story cannot be believed. If you believe it, be skeptical. It's a question of credibility. Often the crazy stuff is true and the normal stuff isn't, because the normal stuff is necessary to make you believe the truly incredible craziness.

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WILLY: In 1928 I had a big year. I averaged a hundred and seventy dollars a week in commissions.  ​ ​ HOWARD: Now Willy, you never averaged— ​ ​ WILLY: I averaged a hundred and seventy dollars a week in the year of 1928

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Within two months, in the dead of winter, leaving their grandmother, Baby Suggs;  Sethe , their mother; and their little sister, Denver, all by themselves in the gray and white house on Bluestone Road. It didn't have a number then, because Cincinnati didn't stretch that far. In fact, Ohio had been calling itself a state only seventy years when first one brother and then the next stuffed quilt packing into his hat, snatched up his shoes, and crept away from the lively spite the house felt for them.

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A truth that waved like a scarecrow in rye: they were only Sweet Home men at Sweet Home. One step off that ground and they were trespassers among the human race  

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To go back to the original hunger was impossible. Luckily for Denver, looking was food enough to last. But to be looked at in turn was beyond appetite; it was breaking through her own skin to a place where hunger hadn't been discovered […

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Although she has claim, she is not claimed. In the place where long grass opens, the girl who waited to be loved and cry shame erupts into her separate parts, to make it easy for the chewing laughter to swallow her all away.

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"Not the faintest sound of any kind could be heard. You looked on amazed, and began to suspect yourself of being deaf—then the night came suddenly, and struck you blind as well. About three in the morning some large fish leaped, and the loud splash made me jump as though a gun had been fired. When the sun rose there was a white fog, very warm and clammy, and more blinding than the night. It did not shift or drive; it was just there, standing all around you like something solid .

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Three times I lost her: once with the flowers because of the noisy clouds of smoke; once when she went into the sea instead of smiling at me; once under the bridge when I went in to join her and she came toward me but did not smile. She whispered to me, chewed me, and swam away. Now I have found her in this house. She smiles at me and it is my own face smiling. I will not lose her again. She is mine.

Slide12:

O, that this too too sullied flesh would melt,​ Thaw and resolve itself into a dew,​Or that the Everlasting had not fixed​ His canon ' gainst self-slaughter! O God, God,​ How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable​ Seem to me all the uses of this world ​

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Why seems it so particular with thee?​ Hamlet “ Seems,' madam? Nay it is. I know not 'seems.'​ 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,​ Nor customary suits of solemn black,​ Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,​ No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,​Nor the dejected havior of the visage,​ Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,​That can denote me truly. These indeed 'seem,'​ For they are actions that a man might play:​ But I have that within which passes show,​ These but the trappings and the suits of woe.​ The gypsy was inclined to stay in the town. He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude.

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" Prudencio ," he exclaimed. "You've come from a long way off! After many years of death the yearning for the living was so intense, the need for company so pressing, so terrifying the nearness of that other death which exists within death, that Prudencio Aguilar had ended up loving his worst enemy. He had spent a great deal of time looking for him. He asked the dead from Riohacha about him, the dead who came from the Upar Valley, those who came from the swamp, and no one could tell him because Macondo was a town that was unknown to the dead until Melquíades arrived and marked it with a small black dot on the motley maps of death

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In reality, José Arcadio Segundo was not a member of the family, nor would he ever be of any other since that distant dawn when Colonel Gerineldo Márquez took him to the barracks, not so that he could see an execution, but so that for the rest of his life he would never forget the sad and somewhat mocking smile of the man being shot. That was not only his oldest memory, but the only one he had of his childhood. […] [It was] the memory of the executed man which had really set the direction of his life and would return to his memory clearer and clearer as grew old passage of time were bringing him closer to it. ​

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WILLY: Oh, I’ll knock ‘ em dead next week. I’ll go to Hartford. I’m very well liked in Hartford. You know, the trouble is, Linda, people don’t seem to take to me. ​Linda “Oh, don’t be foolish. ​Willy “I know it when I walk in. They seem to laugh at me.​ Linda “Why? Why would they laugh at you? Don’t talk that way, Willy. Willy “I don’t know the reason for it, but they just pass me by. I’m not noticed .​

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BIFF: Let’s talk quietly and get down to the facts, huh?​ WILLY [as though Biff had been interrupting]: Well, what’s happened? It’s great news, Biff. Did he take you into his office or’d you talk in the waiting room?​ BIFF: Well he came in, see, and—​ ​ WILLY [with a big smile]: What’d he say? Betcha he threw his arm around you.​ BIFF: Well, he kinda —​ ​WILLY: He’s a fine man. [To Happy] Very hard man to see, y’know .​ ​HAPPY [agreeing]: Oh, I know. ​WILLY [to Biff]: Is that where you had the drinks?​BIFF: Yeah, he gave me a couple of—no, no!​HAPPY [cutting in]: He told him my Florida ideas

Slide18:

Pietro Crespi exhausted all manner of please. He went through incredible extremes of humiliation. He wept one whole afternoon in Úrsula's lap and she would have sold her soul in order to comfort him. On rainy nights he could be seen prowling about the house. […] He begged Amaranta's fiends, the ones who sewed with her on the porch, to try to persuade her. He neglected his business. He would spend the day in the rear of the store writing wild notes, which he would send to Amaranta with flower petals and dried butterflies, and which she would return unopened. He would shut himself up for hours on end to play the zither. One night he sang. Macondo woke up in a kind of angelic stupor that was caused by a zither that deserved more than this world and a voice that led one to believe that no other person on earth could feel such love. Pietro Crespi then saw the lights go on in every window in town except that of …. cut by a razor and his hands thrust into a basin of benzene.

Slide19:

[Azar] looked down at me with a mixture of contempt and pity. After a second he shook his head. "Man, I'll tell you something. You're a sorry, sorry case." I was trembling. I kept hugging myself, rocking, but I couldn't make it go away They carried their reputations. They carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to They sneered at sick call. They spoke bitterly about guys who had found release by shooting off their own toes or fingers […] It was fierce, mocking talk, with only a trace of envy or awe, but even so the image played itself out behind their eyes

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124 was spiteful. Full of a baby's venom. The women in the house knew it and so did the children. For years each put up with the spite in his own way, but by 1873 Sethe and her daughter Denver were its only victims. The grandmother, Baby Suggs, was dead, and the sons, Howard and Buglar , had run away by the time they were thirteen years old—as soon as merely looking in a mirror shattered it (that was the signal for Buglar ); as soon as two tiny hand prints appeared in the cake (that was it for Howard). Neither boy waited to see more; another kettleful of chickpeas smoking in a heap on the floor; soda crackers crumbled and strewn in a line next to the doorsill.

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