The ways we lie pdf

Allusions Essay

1. Review the themes from Hamlet that were assigned that are now available as a slideshow on Google Classroom. Also, re-read the essay “The Ways We Lie” by Stephanie Ericsson. Consider carefully her thesis and her description of types of lying. 


2. Consider the characters, plot, themes, and conflicts in your chosen book club novels. Reflect on the ways in which the characters in your novel(s) demonstrate some of the themes or lies found in Hamlet. 


3. Choose a primary text: Either one of the novels or Hamlet.


4. Create a thesis statement which outlines the specific direction for your essay. Your thesis should be taken from one of the themes we studied in Hamlet, which includes the lies from Ericsson’s essay. QUICK EXAMPLE: “In the first half of the play, Hamlet employs facades, deflection, and ignoring plain facts in order to convince himself he is avenging his father’s death” OR “Throughout the entire novel the central character must struggle with her perception of what is real and what is the product of her imagination (madness) in seeking the truth about her husband”.


5. Complete an outline, rough draft, and good copy of the essay, adhering to the assigned deadlines for each step.


ESSAY FORMAT

Title, title- page, epigraph, introductory paragraph

*create a proper title-page, with a creative title using the format we discussed in the opening lecture. *at the top of page one, use a thoughtful epigraph for your essay. You may use one from one of the course texts, or you can also find a quotation on your own. *remember to follow the format given in the sample essay. *introduce the play or novel, the author and the character(s) you will be studying and also make reference to the other works in the course that also demonstrate these lies or theme. *You may also reference Ericsson and her theories *introduce the thesis and the sub-topics for your body paragraphs (3) using the introduction format we looked at in your sample essay.

Body Paragraphs

*in the body of your essay, each paragraph should include the following: -a strong topic sentence -provide examples and quotations from your novel as support -include an allusion to Hamlet, each of your novels, and either Chaucer’s “General Prologue”, a sonnet, or Ericsson’s essay, as a means of developing your ideas with comparisons and examples (you must use a direct quotation of support from each). Follow the format from the sample essay. -connect the topic to your overall thesis. Try to weave your thesis through the entire paragraph by constantly alluding to it, as opposed to adding it as a concluding statement at the end of each paragraph. -focus on smooth integration of the quotations and provide a correct citation for each quotation.

Transitional Paragraphs

*You will be using transitional paragraphs between each body paragraph. Follow the format given for the sample essay.

Conclusion Wrap up your essay by reviewing your major points:

*conclude in an interesting fashion by referring to a suitable quotation from our course material or reference your epigraph to bring your essay full circle

Epigraph: Thesis: 主题 (选择⼀个) Mortality Truth vs. Deception Thought vs. Action Madness Revenge The white lie Out and out lie Facades Ignoring the plain facts Deflecting Omission Groupthink Dismissal Stereotypes and Cliches

https://eure2011lang.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/stephanie-ericsson-the- ways-we-lie.pdf

Body Paragraph #1 Topic: Primary text:

Quotation: hamlet

Explanation:

Quotation: hamlet

Explanation:

https://eure2011lang.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/stephanie-ericsson-the-ways-we-lie.pdf
Xinrui Bian
Xinrui Bian
thesis (pick one from it)
Secondary text: Choose a reference from the following: Novel of 1984: George Orwell Author of the novel the boy wearing striped clothes: John Byrne Sonnet The General Prologue An Interlinear Translation （March, Knight, Squire, prioress, Friar, Marchant, Sergeant, Franklin, Doctor of medicine, Wife of bath, Parson of town, Reeve, pardoner）

Quotation: Explanation: Secondary text: Choose another reference from the following: Novel of 1984: George Orwell Author of the novel the boy wearing striped clothes: John Byrne Sonnet The General Prologue An Interlinear Translation （March, Knight, Squire, prioress, Friar, Marchant, Sergeant, Franklin, Doctor of medicine, Wife of bath, Parson of town, Reeve, pardoner）

Quotation: Explanation: Body Paragraph #2 Topic: Primary text: Quotation: Explanation: Quotation: Explanation: Secondary text: Quotation: Explanation: Secondary text: Quotation: Explanation: Body Paragraph #3 Topic:

Renaissance A: Sir Philip Sidney: Astrophel and Stella 1

1Loving in truth, and faine in verse my loue to show, 2That she (deare she) might take some pleasure of my paine: 3Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know, 4Knowledge might pittie winne, and pittie grace obtaine, 5I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, 6Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertaine: 7Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flow 8Some fresh and fruitfull showers vpon my sunne-burn'd braine. 9But words came halting foorth, wanting Inuentions stay, 10Inuention Natures childe, fled step-dame Studies blowes, 11And others feete still seem'd but strangers in my way. 12Thus great with childe to speak, and helplesse in my throwes, 13Biting my trewand pen, beating my selfe for spite, 14Foole, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart and write. B: Sir Philip Sidney: Astrophel and Stella: 5 1It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serue 2The inward light: and that the heauenly part 3Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerue, 4Rebels of Nature striue for their owne smart. 5It is most true, what we call Cupids dart, 6An image is, which for our selues we carue; 7And, fooles, adore in temple of our hart, 8Til that good God make Church & churchman starue. 9True, that true Beautie Vertue is indeed, 10Whereof this Beautie can be but a shade, 11Which elements with mortall mixture breed: 12True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,

Primary text: Quotation: Explanation: Quotation: Explanation: Secondary text: Quotation: Explanation: Secondary text: Quotation: Explanation:

13And should in soule vp to our countrey moue: 14True, and yet true that I must Stella loue. C: Sir Philip Sidney: Astrophel and Stella: 20 1Flie, fly, my friends, I haue my death wound; fly, 2See there that boy, that murthering boy I say, 3Who like a thiefe, hid in the dark bush doth ly, 4Till bloudie bullet get him wrongfull pray. 5So Tyrant he no fitter place could spie, 6Nor so faire leuell in so secret stay, 7As that sweete black which vailes the heaun'ly eye: 8There himselfe with his shot he close doth lay. 9Poore passenger, passe now thereby I did, 10And staid pleas'd with the prospect of the place, 11While that blacke hue from me the bad guest hid: 12But straight I saw motions of lightning grace, 13And then descried the glistring of his dart: 14But ere I could flie thence, it pierc'd my heart

Shakespeare's Sonnet 15 1When I consider every thing that grows 2Holds in perfection but a little moment, 3That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows 4Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; 5When I perceive that men as plants increase, 6Cheered and check't even by the self-same sky, 7Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, 8And wear their brave state out of memory. 9Then the conceit of this inconstant stay 10Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, 11Where wasteful time debateth with decay 12To change your day of youth to sullied night, 13 And all in war with time for love of you 14 As he takes from you, I ingraft you new.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 1Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 2Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 3Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 4And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 5Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 6And often is his gold complexion dim'd, 7And every fair from fair sometime declines, 8By chance, or nature's changing course, untrim’d: 9But thy eternal summer shall not fade 10Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

11Nor shall death brag thou wandr'st in his shade, 12When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, 13 So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, 14 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 55 1Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 2Of princes shall out-live this pow'rful rhyme, 3But you shall shine more bright in these contents 4Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. 5When wasteful war shall statues over-turn 6And broils root out the work of masonry, 7Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn 8The living record of your memory. 9'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 10Shall you pace forth, your praise shall still find room, 11Ev'n in the eyes of all posterity 12That wear this world out to the ending doom. 13 So till the judgement that your self arise, 14 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 65 1Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea 2But sad mortality o'er-sways their pow'r, 3How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea 4Whose action is no stronger then a flow'r? 5O how shall summer's honey breath hold out 6Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days 7When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 8Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays? 9O fearful meditation! where, alack, 10Shall time's best jewel from time's chest lie hid? 11Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back, 12Or who his spoil o'er beauty can forbid? 13 O none, unless this miracle have might, 14 That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 71 1No longer mourn for me when I am dead 2Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 3Give warning to the world that I am fled 4From this vile world with vildest worms to dwell: 5Nay, if you read this line, remember not 6The hand that writ it, for I love you so 7That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot 8If thinking on me then should make you woe.

9O if (I say) you look upon this verse, 10When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, 11Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; 12But let your love ev'n with my life decay 13 Lest the wise world should look into your moan, 14 And mock you with me after I am gone.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 106 1When in the chronicle of wastèd time 2I see descriptions of the fairest wights 3And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 4In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, 5Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, 6Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 7I see their antique pen would have express't 8Ev'n such a beauty as you master now. 9So all their praises are but prophesies 10Of this our time, all you prefiguring, 11And for they look'd but with divining eyes, 12They had not still enough your worth to sing: 13 For we which now behold these present days 14 Have eyes to wonder but lack tongues to praise.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 1My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun. 2Coral is far more red, than her lips' red. 3If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun. 4If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. 5I have seen roses damask't, red and white, 6But no such roses see I in her cheeks, 7And in some perfumes is there more delight 8Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. 9I love to hear her speak, yet well I know 10That music hath a far more pleasing sound. 11I grant I never saw a goddess go; 12My mistress when she walks treads on the ground; 13 And yet by heav'n I think my love as rare 14 As any she belied with false compare.

K: Spenser’s Amoretti Sonnet 1 Happy ye leaves! whenas those lily hands, Which hold my life in their dead doing might, Shall handle you, and hold in love's soft bands, Like captives trembling at the victor's sight. And happy lines! on which, with starry light, Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look,

And read the sorrows of my dying sprite, Written with tears in heart's close bleeding book. And happy rhymes! bathed in the sacred brook Of Helicon, whence she derived is, When ye behold that angel's blessed look, My soul's long lacked food, my heaven's bliss. Leaves, lines, and rhymes seek her to please alone, Whom if ye please, I care for other none.

L: Spenser’s Amoretti Sonnet 75 One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay A mortal thing so to immortalize! For I myself shall like to this decay, And eek my name be wiped out likewise. Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise To die in dust, but you shall live by fame: My verse your virtues rare shall eternize, And in the heavens write your glorious name; Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue, Our love shall live, and later life renew.

Romantic Poetry William Wordsworth London, 1802 MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: 10 Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802 EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; 10 Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder--everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.

John Keats Bright Star Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon to death.

On the Sonnet If by dull rhymes our English must be chained, And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet Fettered, in spite of painéd loveliness; Let us find out, if we must be constrained, Sandals more interwoven and complete To fit the naked foot of poesy; Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress

Of every chord, and see what may be gained By ear industrious, and attention meet; Misers of sound and syllable, no less Than Midas of his coinage, let us be Jealous of dead leaves in the bay-wreath crown; So, if we may not let the Muse be free, She will be bound with garlands of her own.

When I Have Fears When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

Percy Bysshe Shelley Ozymandias I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Sonnet: England in 1819 An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,-- Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,-- Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, But leech-like to their fainting country cling,

Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,-- A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,-- An army, which liberticide and prey Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,-- Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed; A Senate, Time's worst statute unrepealed,-- Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day. To Wordsworth Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know That things depart which never may return: Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn. These common woes I feel. One loss is mine Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore. Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar: Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood Above the blind and battling multitude: In honored poverty thy voice did weave Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,-- Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve, Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.

Victorian Poetry Elizabeth Barrett Browning XLIII How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

XXIV Let the world's sharpness, like a clasping knife, Shut in upon itself and do no harm In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm, And let us hear no sound of human strife After the click of the shutting. Life to life-- I lean upon thee, dear, without alarm,

And feel as safe as guarded by a charm Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife Are weak to injure. Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer, Growing straight, out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.

XXIX I think of thee!--my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood. Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood I will not have my thoughts instead of thee Who art dearer, better! rather, instantly Renew thy presence. As a strong tree should, Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare, And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee Drop heavily down,--burst, shattered, everywhere! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee And breathe within thy shadow a new air, I do not think of thee--I am too near thee. Alfred, Lord Tennyson

If I were loved, as I desire to be If I were loved, as I desire to be, What is there in the great sphere of the earth, And range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear,--if I were loved by thee? All the inner, all the outer world of pain Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine As I have heard that, somewhere in the main, Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine. 'T were joy, not fear, claspt hand-in-hand with thee, To wait for death--mute--careless of all ills, Apart upon a mountain, tho' the surge Of some new deluge from a thousand hills Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge Below us, as far on as eye could see.

Matthew Arnold Immortality Foil'd by our fellow men, depress'd, outworn, We leave the brutal world to take its way,

And, Patience! in another life, we say, The world shall be thrust down, and we up-borne! And will not, then the immortal armies scorn The world's poor routed leavings? or will they, Who fail'd under the heat of this life's day, Support the fervours of the heavenly morn? No, no! the energy of life may be Kept on after the grave, but not begun! And he who flagg'd not in the earthly strife, From strength to strength advancing--only he, His soul well-knit, and all his battles won, Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life. Gerard Manley Hopkins God's Grandeur The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge & shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs – Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast & with ah! bright wings Modern Poetry

Wilfred Owen Anthem for Doomed Youth What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

The End After the blast of lightning from the east, The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot Throne; After the drums of time have rolled and ceased, And by the bronze west long retreat is blown, Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears assuage?- Or fill these void veins full again with youth, And wash, with an immortal water, Age? When I do ask white Age he saith not so: 'My head hangs weighed with snow.' And when I hearken to the Earth, she saith: 'My fiery heart shrinks, aching. It is death. Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified, Nor my titanic tears, the seas, be dried.' William Butler Yeats

Leda and the Swan A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? And how can body, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Meru Civilization is hooped together, brought Under a rule, under the semblance of peace By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, And he, despite his terror, cannot cease Ravening through century after century, Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come Into the desolation of reality: Egypt and Greece, good-bye, and good-bye, Rome! Hermits upon Mount Meru or Everest, Caverned in night under the drifted snow, Or where that snow and winter's dreadful blast

Beat down upon their naked bodies, know That day bring round the night, that before dawn His glory and his monuments are gone. Robert Frost

Into My Own One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom. I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew-- Only more sure of all I thought was true.

A Dream Pang I had withdrawn in forest, and my song Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway, And to the forest edge you came one day (This was my dream) and looked and pondered long, But did not enter, though the wish was strong: You shook your pensive head as who should say, 'I dare not--too far in his footsteps stray-- He must seek me would he undo the wrong.' Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all Behind low boughs the trees let down outside; And the sweet pang it cost me not to call And tell you that I saw does still abide, But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof