Freedom is the most precious thing in every human’s life.

Freedom is the most precious thing in every human’s life. No one has a right to take it away, and we need to do everything to protect our society from cruelty and violence. Happy Independence Da...

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Makes the history

If  You can't help othersThanDon't demotivate themBecauseThey are better than youAndMakes the History...

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John Keats "Ode To Autumn"

John Keats "Ode To Autumn"The Composition of "To Autumn"Keats wrote "To Autumn" after enjoying a lovely autumn day; he described his experience in a letter to his friend Reynolds:"How beautiful the season is now--How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking, chaste weather--Dian skies--I never lik'd stubble fields so much as now--Aye better than the chilly green of the spring. Somehow a stubble plain looks warm--in the same way that some pictures look warm--this struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it."General CommentsThis ode is a favorite with critics and poetry lovers alike. Harold Bloom calls it "one of the subtlest and most beautiful of all Keats's odes, and as close to perfect as any shorter poem in the English Language." Allen Tate...

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Sylvia Plath Life and Works

Sylvia Plath Life and WorksSylvia Plath was born on 27 October 1932, at Massachusetts Memorial Hospital, in the Jennie M Robinson Memorial maternity building in Boston, Massachusetts. Her parents were Otto Emil Plath 1885-1940) and Aurelia Schober Plath (1906-1994). She would be an only child for two and a half years when her brother Warren was born, 27 April 1935. Her first home was on 24 Prince Street in Jamaica Plain, a suburb of Boston. After Warren Plath's birth, the family moved to 92 Johnson Avenue in Winthrop, Massachusetts just east of Boston. This is where Plath became familiar and intimate with the sea. From an early age, she enjoyed the sea and could recognize its beauty & power.Otto Plath taught at Boston University (BU). To get there, he took a bus, boat, and trolley to get...

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best Autumn Quotes|youtube

Best Autumn Quotes e...

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS - XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS By Kenneth Grahame Author Of “The Golden Age,” “Dream Days,” Etc. XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES When it began to grow dark, the Rat, with an air of excitement and mystery, summoned them back into the parlour, stood each of them up alongside of his little heap, and proceeded to dress them up for the coming expedition. He was very earnest and thoroughgoing about it, and the affair took quite a long time. First, there was a belt to go round each animal, and then a sword to be stuck into each belt, and then a cutlass on the other side to balance it. Then a pair of pistols, a policeman’s truncheon, several sets of handcuffs, some bandages and sticking-plaster, and a flask and a sandwich-case. The Badger laughed good-humouredly and said, ‘All right, Ratty! It amuses you...

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS- XI. ‘LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS’

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS By Kenneth Grahame Author Of “The Golden Age,” “Dream Days,” Etc. XI. ‘LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS’ The Rat put out a neat little brown paw, gripped Toad firmly by the scruff of the neck, and gave a great hoist and a pull; and the water-logged Toad came up slowly but surely over the edge of the hole, till at last he stood safe and sound in the hall, streaked with mud and weed to be sure, and with the water streaming off him, but happy and high-spirited as of old, now that he found himself once more in the house of a friend, and dodgings and evasions were over, and he could lay aside a disguise that was unworthy of his position and wanted such a lot of living up to. ‘O, Ratty!’ he cried. ‘I’ve been through such times since I saw you last, you can’t...

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS - X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS By Kenneth Grahame Author Of “The Golden Age,” “Dream Days,” Etc. X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD The front door of the hollow tree faced eastwards, so Toad was called at an early hour; partly by the bright sunlight streaming in on him, partly by the exceeding coldness of his toes, which made him dream that he was at home in bed in his own handsome room with the Tudor window, on a cold winter’s night, and his bedclothes had got up, grumbling and protesting they couldn’t stand the cold any longer, and had run downstairs to the kitchen fire to warm themselves; and he had followed, on bare feet, along miles and miles of icy stone-paved passages, arguing and beseeching them to be reasonable. He would probably have been aroused much earlier, had he not slept for...

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