Write at least a full paragraph in which you interpret five of the following eleven quotes (There needs to be one paragraph for each quote. There should be a total of at least FIVE paragraphs) . Your paragraphs should identify the author of the quote and explain the significance of the quote, i.e. how it evokes and/or develops the themes, characters, motifs, and/or main ideas of the work. You can choose no more than two quotes from any one author. Finally, dont include (i.e. copy and paste) the original quote in your answer, and make sure to number your answers accordingly to the corresponding question. 1. A taxi came up the street, the waiter hanging out at the side. I tipped him and told the driver where to drive, and got in beside Brett. The driver started up the street. I settled back. Brett moved close to me. We sat close against each other. I put my arm around her and she rested against me comfortably. It was very hot and bright, and the houses looked sharply white. We turned out onto the Gran Via. Oh, Jake, Brett said, we could have had such a damned good time together.Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly pressing Brett against me.Yes, I said. Isnt it pretty to think so? 2. Listening to the doves in Alfred, Georgia, and having neither the right nor the permission to enjoy it because in that place mist, doves, sunlight, copper dirt, mooneverything belonged to the men who had the guns. Little men, some of them, big men too, each one of whom he could snap like a twig if he wanted to. Men who knew their manhood lay in their guns and were not even embarrassed by the knowledge that without gunshot fox would laugh at them. And these men who made even vixen laugh could, if you let them, stop you from hearing doves or loving moonlight. So you protected yourself and loved small. Picked the tiniest stars out of the sky to own; lay down with head twisted in order to see the loved one over the rim of the trench before you slept. Stole shy glances at her between the trees at chain-up. Grass blades, salamanders, spiders, woodpeckers, beetles, a kingdom of ants. Anything bigger wouldnt do. A woman, a child, a brothera big love like that would split you wide open in Alfred, Georgia. He knew exactly what she meant: to get to a place where you could love anything you chosenot to need permission for desirewell now, that was freedom. 3. The bull who killed Vicente Girones was named Bocanegra, was Number 118 of the bull-breeding establishment of Sanchez Taberno, and was killed by Pedro Romero as the third bull of that same afternoon. His ear was cut by popular acclamation and given to Pedro Romero, who, in turn, gave it to Brett, who wrapped it in a handkerchief belonging to myself, and left both ear and handkerchief, along with a number of Muratti cigarette-stubs, shoved far back in the drawer of the bed-table that stood beside her bed in the Hotel Montoya, in Pamplona. 4. It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emilys house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumpsan eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson. 5. The nephew, the one who had nursed her while his brother held her down, didnt know he was shaking. His uncle had warned him against that kind of confusion, but the warning didnt seem to be taking. What she go and do that for? On account of a beating? Hell, hed been beat a million times and he was white. Once it hurt so bad and made him so mad hed smashed the well bucket. Another time he took it out on Samsona few tossed rocks was all. But no beating ever made him … I mean no way he could have … What she go and do that for? And that is what he asked the sheriff, who was standing there amazed like the rest of them, but not shaking. He was swallowing hard, over and over again. What she want to go and do that for? 6. A crowd of young men, some in jerseys and some in their shirt-sleeves, got out. I could see their hands and newly washed, wavy hair in the light from the door. The policeman standing by the door looked at me and smiled. They came in. As they went in, under the light I saw white hands, wavy hair, white faces, grimacing, gesturing, talking. With them was Brett. She looked very lovely and she was very much with them. One of them saw Georgette and said: I do declare. There is an actual harlot. Im going to dance with her, Lett. You watch me. The tall dark one, called Lett, said: Dont you be rash. The wavy blond one answered: Dont you worry, dear. And with them was Brett. I was very angry. Somehow they always made me angry. 7. I look around for my girls, but theyre gone, of course. There wasnt anybody but some young married screaming with her children about some candy they didnt get by the door of a powder-blue Falcon station wagon. Looking back in the big windows, over the bags of peat moss and aluminum lawn furniture stacked on the pavement, I could see Lengel in my place in the slot, checking the sheep through. His face was dark gray and his back stiff, as if hed just had an injection of iron, and my stomach kind of fell as I felt how hard the world was going to be to me hereafter. 8. Can other people see it? asked Denver. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Someday you be walking down the road and you hear something or see something going on. So clear. And you think its you thinking it up. A thought picture. But no. Its when you bump into a rememory that belongs to somebody else. Where I was before I came here, that place is real. Its never going away. Even if the whole farmevery tree and grass blade of it dies. The picture is still there and whats more, if you go thereyou who never was thereif you go there and stand in the place it was, it will happen again; it will be there for you, waiting for you. So, Denver, you cant never go there. Never. Because even though its all overover and done withits going to always be there waiting for you. Thats how come I had to get all my children out. No matter what. 9. While I had him on, several trout had jumped at the falls. As soon as I baited up and dropped in again I hooked another and brought him in the same way. In a little while I had six. They were all about the same size. I laid them out, side by side, all their heads pointing the same way, and looked at them. They were beautifully colored and firm and hard from the cold water. It was a hot day, so I slit them all and shucked out the insides, gills and all, and tossed them over across the river. I took the trout ashore, washed them in the cold, smoothly heavy water above the dam, and then picked some fens and packed them all in the bag, three trout on a layer of ferns, then another layer of ferns, then three more trout, and then covered them with ferns. They looked nice in the ferns, and now the bag was bulky, and I put it in the shade of the tree. 10. The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the room, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I found the late tenants rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister. 11. It was three in the afternoon on a Friday so wet and hot Cincinnatis stench had traveled to the country: from the canal, from hanging meat and things rotting in jars; from small animals dead in the fields, town sewers and factories. The stench, the heat, the moisturetrust the devil to make his presence known. Otherwise it looked almost like a regular workday. They could have been going to do the laundry at the orphanage or the insane asylum; corn shucking at the mill; or to clean fish, rinse offal, cradle whitebabies, sweep stores, scrape hog skin, press lard, case-pack sausage or hide in tavern kitchens so whitepeople didnt have to see them handle their food. But not today.
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