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Various Text Types.

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Jardo de la Peña
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68 views

Various Text Types

Various Text Types.

Uploaded by

Jardo de la Peña
Copyright
© Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
Available Formats
Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Literature -is an enduring expression of mans thoughts, feelings and actions in words, well chosen, and arranged.

Poem: Its not the things that can be bought

that are the lifes richest treasures, Its just the little heart gifts that the money cannot measure A cheerful

smile, a friendly word, a sympathetic nod Are priceless little treasures from the storehouse of our

God They are the priceless things in life for which no one can pay And the giver finds

rich recompense in giving them away


Source: Lifes Richest Treasures. Helen Steiner Rice(n.p.)

Essay: One time, investigating in the backyard of our house in Temuco the tiny objects and miniscule beings of my world, I

came upon a hole in one of the boards of the fence. I looked through the hole and saw the landscape like that behind our house, uncared for and wild. I moved back a few steps because I sensed vaguely that something was about to

happen. All of a sudden, a hand appeared- a tiny hand of a boy about my own age. By the time I came close again, the hand was gone, and in its place was a marvelous white sheep.

The sheeps wool was faded. Its wheels had escaped. All of this only made it more authentic. I had never seen such a wonderful sheep. I looked back through the hole but the boy had disappeared. I went into the house and

brought out a treasure of my own: a pinecone, opened, full of odor and resin, which I adored. I set it down in the same spot and went off with the sheep. I never saw either the hand or the boy again. And I have never

again seen a sheep like that either. The toy I Iost finally in fire. But even now, in 1954, almost fifty years old, whenever I pass by a toy shop, I look furtively into the window, but its no use. They

dont make sheep like that anymore. I have been a lucky man. To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we do not know. From those unknown to us, who are

watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknessesthat is something still greater and more beautiful, it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.
Source: Childhood and Poetry. Pablo Neruda (n.p.)

Short Story:

I was content to rub my neck with a handkerchief because now I felt the sweat dripping from my hair onto the nape of my neck and that was disagreeable. I soon gave up rubbing myself, however, for it

didnt do any good; my handkerchief was already wringing wet and I was still sweating. My buttocks, too, were sweating, and my damp trousers stuck to the bench. Suddenly, Juan said, Youre a doctor arent you?

Yes, said the Belgian. Do people suffer- very long? Oh! When? No, no, said the Belgian, in a paternal voice, its quickly over. His manner was as reassuring as if he had been answering a paying patient.

But I Somebody, told meThey often have to fire two volleys. Sometimes, said the Belgian, raising hid head, it just happens that the first volley doesnt hit any of the vital organs.

So then they have to reload their guns and aim all over again? Juan thought for a moment, then added hoarsely, But that takes time! He was terribly afraid of suffering. He couldnt think

about anything else, but that went with his age. As for me, I hardly thought about it anymore, and it certainly was not fear of suffering that made me perspire. I rose and walked toward the pile coal dust. Tom gave a start

and looked at me with a look of hate. I irritated him because my shoes squeaked. I wondered if my face was as putty colored as his. Then, I noticed that he, too, was sweating. The sky was magnificent; no light at all came into our dark

corner and I had only to lift my head to see the Big Bear.
From: The Wall, Jean- Paul Sartre.(n.p.)

Play: MRS. LINDEN: My mother was then alive, bedridden, and helpless; and I had my two

younger brothers to think of. I thought it is my duty to accept him. NORA: Perhaps it was. I suppose he was rich then? MRS. LINDEN: Very well off, I believe. But his business was uncertain. It fell to pieces at

his death; and there was nothing left. NORA: And then-? MRS. LINDEN: then I had to fight my way by keeping a shop, a little school, anything I could turn my hand to. The last three years have been one long

struggle for me. But now its over, Nora. My poor mother no longer needs me; she is at rest. And the boys are in business and can look after themselves. Nora: How free your life must feel!

MRS. LINDEN: No, Nora; only inexpressibly empty. No one to live for.(Stands up restlessly.) That is why I couldnt bear to stay any longer in that out-ofthe-way corner. Here it must be easier to find something really worth doing-something

to occupy ones thoughts. If I could only get some settled employment-some office work. NORA: But, Christina, thats so tiring, and you look worn out already. You should rather go to some watering place and rest.

MRS. LINDEN: (going to window) I have no father to give me money, Nora. NORA:(rising) oh! Dont be vexed with me. MRS. LINDEN: (going toward her) My dear Nora, dont you be vexed with me. The worst

of a position like mine is that it makes one bitter. You have no one to work for, yet you have always to be on the strain. You must live; and so you become selfish. When I heard of the happy change

In you circumstances- can you believe it?- I rejoiced more on my own account than on yours.
From: A Dolls House, Henrik Ibsen.(n.p.)

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