Classical
SACRIFICE
Commonly, mother and father are the one who sacrifice the whole thing for the sake of their kids. But there are a few kids who sacrificed their passion and desires for the sake in their mother and father due to a few reasons (financial, family, fitness and others). This is a tale of a boy who sacrificed his desires & passion at very early age. Like others he also had the dream to come to be a sportsman however due to center elegance family he was now not capable of have the funds for for sports activities equipments and so on. Despite the fact that he did now not bow down and continued to play sports. In the future whilst practising for athletics he got a severe knee harm, which buried his dream of becoming a good athlete. As the injury turned into severe he become suggested to now not to play sports anymore, then his mother and father consoled him to stop sports activities in order that there would be no health troubles in destiny. So the young boy sacrificed his sportsman dream for the sake of his fitness. Thereafter he never performed any of the game, however his dream became still alive. Every other incident that he sacrificed his dream of going overseas for higher studies as that time his father had suffered intense heart stroke. At that time his father turned into closely suffocated and instructed his son to call ambulance, boy known as the ambulance and rushed to health facility. Ultimately they reached hospital and remedy become began and all going high-quality. Then after a while doctor came stated “your father is safe and you added him on time otherwise things could be unique”. Those words shocked the boy, which led him in a quandary that if he is going overseas, who will deal with his dad and mom? So he dropped off his dream and stayed together with his mother and father. Also he sacrificed his love lifestyles and freedom due to the fact his mother and father have been adversely suffering from his sister’s marriage which turned into a love and arrange marriage. Even though it became love marriage there were quarrels in her (sister’s) mother-in-laws house, and there were quarrels in his residence also and his mother and father have been mentally disturbed for almost 5-6 years. For this motives he sacrificed his freedom and love lifestyles and changed into not able to relocate to different locations for better research, activity reason etc., as he has to take care of his parents. That boy is none apart from me best. By way of god’s grace, after this a great deal of sacrifices now i'm experiencing a bit little bit of happiness as my parents are suitable now, they're retired and dwelling fortuitously. For this happiness of my dad and mom i've sacrificed my dreams, career, ardour, and so on. Compared to my parents sacrifice my sacrifice may be very small. If you don’t revel in sadness, you'll no longer be able to enjoy happiness. Sad and happy each are complementary words. In this race of settling and making a living, many human beings are busy and neglecting their dad and mom. “settling way now not sending cash monthly month-to-month to them, settling approach we should be with them in each point of time and contend with them”. Mother and father in no way tell us to “go away your profession and be with us”. But in some unspecified time in the future of time they think about us and sense that “our youngsters aren't with us”. So attempt to put off your paintings or sacrifice your time to spend along with your parents. Mother can display her like to her kids endless, father can not show his love to youngsters however, in universe father is simplest character who loves the complete family and sacrifices the whole thing for own family. So appreciate your dad and mom and love them from bottom of your coronary heart.
Iceland, Finland and the myths dear to Tolkien
Thingvellir: behind the black basalt buttress, in front the immense lawn covered with lichen where the Althing, the open-air parliament of Icelanders, was held. In the cold, sulfur-smelling air, in this land of asphalt-colored lava, between pumice dunes and puffs of geysers, it is necessary to classify memories and mental associations that pile up confusedly in our heads.
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe King is Naked
That the publishing world is not transparent, that the little fish are devoured by the big ones, that the good ones, if not famous for other reasons, have no chance to be published and known, that some writers produce bullshit but sell millions of copies thanks to hype, that literary cases are assembled at the desk, that books are directly commissioned by publishers to prominent personalities and then written by ghost writers, by now we all know and those who do not know are not the least familiar with this reality and still live, lucky them, in the world of dreams.
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in Fiction"I Am A Revolutionary"
I have a dream. Something that will take me far. A dream that will take me from here to Mars. Yes I can't breathe in Mars.
Michael J. HarrisPublished 2 years ago in FictionFrankenstein
There is a love story that binds a poet and a writer both English: Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822) and Mary Shelley (1797–1851)
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionGeorge MacDonald, "At the Back of the North Wind"
George MacDonald, known for his fairy tales and his fantastic novels, moved into that pre-Raphaelite atmosphere of which William Morris was a part and entered the context of acquaintances that included Mary Shelley, John Ruskin, Charles Dickens, William Thackeray , Mark Twain (whom he was friends with) and CS Lewis.
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionPinocchio
The Florentine Carlo Lorenzini (1826–1890), better known to the public of adults and children with the name of Collodi, borrowed from his mother’s town, was a patriot of the wars of Independence but also a bookseller, reviewer, publisher. He translated French fairy tales, including Perrault’s famous ones.
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionDream of The Watches
I dreamed a dream in the watches of the night. Of deceit, of red hourglasses, and the fragile cobwebs of life that keep us breathing.
Meredith SwansonPublished 2 years ago in FictionLouisa May Alcott, "Little Women"
The region around Boston was simple and genuine countryside. “There,” says Cunliff, “the aspiring writer could live on very little, cultivating a piece of land to get what he needed for his livelihood […] and making an occasional trip to Boston to borrow books, or meeting with a publisher. […] it was in that circle of cultured and intimately connected communities, around Boston, that the phenomenon of transcendentalism appeared, an imprecise term hardly attributable to any of the most important figures of the time. “
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionJoining the Jungvolk
The day was bound to come. Ever since Franz had left, it seemed there had been a mental countdown of the days before young Ernst should be forced to leave home. Each year left to remain was a treasure, each moral discussion a memory for a lifetime. As his father had hoped, Ernst held true to everything that was taught him, while under his father’s roof.
Erica NicolayPublished 2 years ago in FictionWuthering Heights
At the age of three, Emily Brontë had already lost her mother and was growing up in memory of her two missing little sisters, Maria and Elisabeth. Her aunt raised her, Charlotte, Anne and Patrick (called Branwell from her maternal surname) with Wesleyan methodism, in family reunions a common theme was the account of uplifting deaths. The father was Irish, the mother from Cornwall, more than English they were Celts, and this legacy of myths and folklore, combined with the wild nature in which they grew up, enhanced the imagination of the siblings.
Patrizia PoliPublished 2 years ago in FictionShall We Be Nobody?
Had he not ventured into the garden at such a late time of night, could he have avoided such a horrible luxuriance? What practical reason did he truly have to leave his quarters? Was it curiosity or boredom that influenced his exodus from the dull gray of his residence? Perhaps it was both. Such feelings were so mundane individually, but had they always been so cruel together? He pondered these things silently, though they somehow surpassed the volume of his weeping.
Sadie GibsonPublished 2 years ago in Fiction