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   <title>BethanyBouchard</title>
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   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380</id>
   <updated>2009-03-14T20:08:10Z</updated>
   
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<entry>
   <title>Every Man For Himself</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/03/every_man_for_himself.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.31174</id>
   
   <published>2009-03-14T19:54:15Z</published>
   <updated>2009-03-14T20:08:10Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;On one side is obedience: no man is &quot;his own&quot; since each man is determined by his station (Kermode V.i.213n); and on the other side is conscience: each man is himself because each values himself according to the integrity of...</summary>
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      <![CDATA["On one side is obedience: no man is "his own" since each man is determined by his station (Kermode V.i.213n); and on the other side is conscience: each man <em></em>is himself<em></em> because each values himself according to the integrity of his conscience..." (Yachnin 43).

I can see where this point comes into play quite often in William Shakespeare's <em></em>The Tempest<em></em>.  "No man is 'his own," as Yachnin says, and the reader can identify several instances of character in which this statement is true.  Ariel is enslaved to Prospero.  Miranda and Ferdinand are under Prospero's rule, which is probably doubly worse for Miranda, since she is Prospero's daughter.  Caliban is also a servant to Prospero.  Prospero is, in a sense, a slave to the island, since he has been stranded there and is not there by his own choice.

"And on the other side is conscience."  This is reflected in characters like Ferdinand.  He is a prince, yet he gives in to the rule of Prospero in order to win his favor so that he may marry Miranda.  He also remains true to his promise to not violate Miranda's virtue until they are married.]]>
      
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<entry>
   <title>Freedom of Speech</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/freedom_of_speech.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30682</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-17T21:32:05Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-17T21:45:28Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;During the Reformation, struggles between Protestants on one side and the Catholic Church on the other threw into high relief the often opposing claims of conscience and political obedience, and moved the question of obedience near the center of the...</summary>
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      <![CDATA["During the Reformation, struggles between Protestants on one side and the Catholic Church on the other threw into high relief the often opposing claims of conscience and political obedience, and moved the question of obedience near the center of the polemical wars ongoing from the time of Luther to the time of Milton," (Yachnin 35).

Stephano: "Flout 'em and cout 'em/And scout 'em and flout 'em!/Thought is free," (Shakespeare III.2.133-35).

I just found this statement from Yachnin, though only historical background information, very profound when I related it to <em></em>The Tempest<em></em>.  Perhaps Shakespeare was trying to send a message to his audience members about his own feelings on the political/religious controversies of his time by having Stephano sing, "Thought is free."  Shakespeare was saying "To each his own," or something equally cliche, but he said it better by hiding his true meaning within the lines of his play.]]>
      
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<entry>
   <title>&quot;Double Double, Toil and Trouble&quot;</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/double_double_toil_and_trouble.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30668</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-17T03:39:40Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-17T03:50:14Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;Internal repetition of action has been a staple of Shakespearian dramatic structure since the early 1950s, the double wooing of Katherine and Bianca in The Taming of the Shrew being perhaps the most illustrative case,&quot; (McDonald 104). Though McDonald&apos;s point...</summary>
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      <![CDATA["Internal repetition of action has been a staple of Shakespearian dramatic structure since the early 1950s, the double wooing of Katherine and Bianca in <em></em>The Taming of the Shrew<em></em> being perhaps the most illustrative case," (McDonald 104).

Though McDonald's point has never been brought to my attention before,  I can definitely see the duplicity in Shakespeare's dramatic structure exhibited in a number of his other plays.  <em></em>A Midsummer Night's Dream<em></em> has Puck influencing the love affairs of both the humans wandering the forest and the fairy queen.  There are the twins of the same name in <em></em>A Comedy of Errors<em></em>.  In <em></em>Romeo and Juliet<em></em> there are the two feuding families, two lovers, and two agents (Friar Laurence and the Nurse) aiding Romeo and Juliet on their tryst.  Also, two key characters die, one from each familial affiliation, Mercutio (Montague) and Tybalt (Capulet).  I am sure there is much more to be said on this duplicity gimmick Shakespeare has seemed to utilize in his dramatic structures; however, these were just a few examples I came up with off the top of my head.  They were easy to pick out, once I came to an understanding with McDonald's theory.]]>
      
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<entry>
   <title>A Matter Of Opinion</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/a_matter_of_opinion.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30521</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-11T05:03:37Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-11T05:04:38Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&#8220;Oscar Wilde spoke of the work of art as having &#8216;and independent life of its own&#8217; which may &#8216;deliver a message far other than that which was put in its lips to say,&#8217;&#8221; (Watson 30). And here I go again,...</summary>
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      &#8220;Oscar Wilde spoke of the work of art as having &#8216;and independent life of its own&#8217; which may &#8216;deliver a message far other than that which was put in its lips to say,&#8217;&#8221; (Watson 30).

And here I go again, back to the concept of &#8220;art for art&#8217;s sake.&#8221;  Of course art does belong to the artist who creates it.  However, once the art has been released to the public, it also belongs to its audience.  People will judge it, or critique it, whether or not it was meant to be up for their interpretations.  The art will mean something to the artist, its creator, for being an artist, he or she has put a part of themselves into the work.  Therefore, what the art means to the artist is what it means, what the artist intended it to mean.  When brought into the public eye, though, an audience can draw whatever kinds of conclusions about the meaning of a particular piece, and perhaps even find within it something of greater depth than even the artist might have intended.  It&#8217;s all just a matter of opinion; there is usually no right answer.
      
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<entry>
   <title>Aladdin Ain&apos;t Never Had A Friend Like The Genie</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/aladdin_aint_never_had_a_frien.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30520</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-11T04:58:28Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-11T05:00:21Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&#8220;PROSPERO How now? Moody?/What is&#8217;t thou canst demand? ARIEL My liberty. PROSPERO Before the time be out? No more. ARIEL I prithee/Remember I have done thee worthy service,/Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served/Without grudge or grumblings. Thou did...</summary>
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      &#8220;PROSPERO How now? Moody?/What is&#8217;t  thou canst demand?
ARIEL My liberty.
PROSPERO Before the time be out? No more.
ARIEL I prithee/Remember I have done thee worthy service,/Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served/Without grudge or grumblings.  Thou did promise to bate me a full year,&#8221; (Shakespeare I.2.290-298).

So, upon reading this brief exchange between Prospero and his slave, Ariel, I was immediately reminded of Aladdin.  In Aladdin, the Disney version, of course, Aladdin promises the Genie he will release him from bondage when his third wish in payment for the Genie&#8217;s kindness and friendship.  Aladdin has a brief moment of selfishness, in which he considers not releasing the Genie, but in the end, he comes to his senses and does the right thing.

In the case of The Tempest, Prospero would be Aladdin, and Ariel would be the Genie.  However, things seem to be a little mixed around.  For instance, Prospero is apparently the one with the magic powers, and can, I think, use his powers to bend people and influence things to his will, like the weather.  Ariel, on the other hand, does not have powers, but he isn&#8217;t human, either.  He&#8217;s a spirit.  From the exchange noted above, it doesn&#8217;t appear that The Tempest&#8217;s own Aladdin will be releasing Ariel from servitude any time soon, though he has already promised that he will.  It is obvious Prospero hasn&#8217;t realized how valuable Ariel is to him, as a friend, yet.  Perhaps Ariel should start singing &#8220;You Ain&#8217;t Never Had a Friend Like Me.&#8221;
      
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<entry>
   <title>Flashback to Chaucer...</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/flashback_to_chaucer.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30502</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-10T05:29:34Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-10T05:43:30Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;To judge accurately a medieval fabliau or an eighteenth-century satire, a Romantic ode or a Victorian novel, we have to condition ourselves to think and feel as their intended audiences did,&quot; (Keesey 14). Like Erica, and many other people last...</summary>
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      <![CDATA["To judge accurately a medieval fabliau or an eighteenth-century satire, a Romantic ode or a Victorian novel, we have to condition ourselves to think and feel as their intended audiences did," (Keesey 14).

Like Erica, and many other people last week did, I had to choose a word not defined in Hamilton's <em></em>Essential Literary Terms<em></em>, as I couldn't seem to find one in the readings.  I chose "fabliau" because, upon reading it,  I had the hint of a memory from Chaucer last semester, where it was mentioned at least a few times in lecture.

Dictionary.com defines "fabliau" as "a short metrical tale, usually ribald and humorous, popular in medieval France."  This would make sense to me now, as to the reason it was mentioned in Chaucer, especially during our section of <em></em>The Canterbury Tales<em></em>.  I never felt Father Honeygosky explained it clearly enough, but basically any of the the tales could be called a fabliau.

]]>
      
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<entry>
   <title>Well That Really Narrows It Down...Only Not</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/well_that_really_narrows_it_do.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30500</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-10T04:51:18Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-10T05:13:30Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;And because &apos;literary criticism&apos; may be broadly defined as the art of interpreting literature, every reading is an act of criticism and every reader is a critic,&quot; (Keesey 1). When I started to read this sentence and got to how...</summary>
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      &quot;And because &apos;literary criticism&apos; may be broadly defined as the art of interpreting literature, every reading is an act of criticism and every reader is a critic,&quot; (Keesey 1).

When I started to read this sentence and got to how &quot;literary criticism&quot; may be defined...&quot; I thought, &quot;Yes! There&apos;s going to be a straight definition. Finally!&quot;  Unfortunately, that was not really the case.  Where I was expecting to unlock the secret to success at being a literary critic, the above passage turned from a glittery beacon of light to an abysmal, never-ending pit of darkness.  Something that I thought I was just getting the tiniest bit of a grasp on, suddenly slipped out of reach and became far more complicated and tantalizing.  Of course, I am being facetious and melodramatic as I sit here writing this, now.  However, when I read that statement, that is how I felt. I&apos;m not even kidding.
      
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<entry>
   <title>&quot;An Author Cannot Mean What He Does Not Mean&quot;</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/an_author_cannot_mean_what_he.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30352</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-05T03:34:16Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-05T03:42:30Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;The burden of this section is, then, an attack on the view that a text is a &apos;piece of language&apos; and a defense of the notion that a text represents the determinate verbal meaning of the author,&quot; (Hirsch 19). With...</summary>
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      &quot;The burden of this section is, then, an attack on the view that a text is a &apos;piece of language&apos; and a defense of the notion that a text represents the determinate verbal meaning of the author,&quot; (Hirsch 19).

With the essay, many questions came to my mind.  For example: How does anyone know what the author means, except the author himself, unless the author shares his true intentions with the public before he is dead?  That would certainly save everyone else a lot of trouble in trying to interpret the meaning of what he wrote.  But then, I guess there would be sort of a decline in the necessity of literary critics and their opinions the interpretation of a piece of literature.  But how do we know if we&apos;re right?  If the text &quot;represents the determinate verbal meaning of the author,&quot; then there really is no need to try to interpret it, because wouldn&apos;t that mean one should just take the words at face value?
      
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<entry>
   <title>What A Creeper!</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/what_a_creeper.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30351</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-05T03:16:57Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-05T03:31:15Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;It is the same woman, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight,&quot; (Gilman 537). First of all, I am thoroughly delighted by the fact that is almost a whole section in this story devoted...</summary>
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      &quot;It is the same woman, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight,&quot; (Gilman 537).

First of all, I am thoroughly delighted by the fact that is almost a whole section in this story devoted to &quot;creeping&quot; and &quot;creepers.&quot; Of course, it is safe to assume that is definitely not used in the same context that most people would relate those terms to today, but putting it into that perspective for just a couple minutes before I moved on with the reading gave me a good laugh.

In all seriousness, though, now, the story&apos;s context of the woman creeping is slightly different.  The woman that the narrator claims to see creeping around &quot;by daylight&quot; could quite possibly be the narrator, herself.  Her fear of the yellow wallpaper is manifested at night by the woman trapped beneath it.  In actuality, the woman trapped beneath the wallpaper, is the narrator trapped by her own thoughts and fears.  It is herself that she imagines crawling around and around beneath the wallpaper, when in reality she is going in dizzying circles with the thoughts in her mind and driving herself crazy.  By day, she is free of the crawling yellow wallpaper, but then she sees &quot;the woman&quot; everywhere, in the garden, in the yard, etc.  

Yeah, this story was slightly weird and creepy in itself, but in all fairness, very interesting and well-written, I thought.
      
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<entry>
   <title>Less Is More, Or So They Say</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/less_is_more_or_so_they_say.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30342</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-04T03:17:24Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-04T03:32:41Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;It is interesting to contrast Empson&apos;s &apos;ambiguities&apos; with New Criticism&apos;s &apos;paradox,&apos; &apos;irony,&apos; and &apos;ambivalence,&apos;&quot; (Eagleton 45). &quot;Paradox is a trope in which a statement that appears on the surface to be contradictory or impossible turns out to an often striking...</summary>
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      &quot;It is interesting to contrast Empson&apos;s &apos;ambiguities&apos; with New Criticism&apos;s &apos;paradox,&apos; &apos;irony,&apos; and &apos;ambivalence,&apos;&quot; (Eagleton 45).

&quot;Paradox is a trope in which a statement that appears on the surface to be contradictory or impossible turns out to an often striking truth,&quot; (Hamilton 56).

Here I go again, looking up stuff I had already, supposedly, learned.  I find my plight to be exemplary living proof that no matter how well a lesson is learned, in time, one will eventually be in need of a refresher course.

Looking at the phrase, &quot;Less is more,&quot; which, by the definition appears contradictory, is really a true and upstanding moral.  For example, if one indulges themselves over dinner by taking multiple helpings, they might be struck later with a case of indigestion.  In their case it would have been better, or &quot;more&quot; beneficial to their well-being to stick with smaller portions and, in so doing, not be sick later on.
      
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<entry>
   <title>Alert the Pope!</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/02/alert_the_pope.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30329</id>
   
   <published>2009-02-03T03:47:29Z</published>
   <updated>2009-02-03T04:22:06Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;The modern sense of the word &apos;literature&apos; only really gets under way in the nineteenth cenutry. Literature in this sense of the word is an historically recent phenomenon: it was invented sometime around the turn of the eighteenth century, and...</summary>
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      &quot;The modern sense of the word &apos;literature&apos; only really gets under way in the nineteenth cenutry. Literature in this sense of the word is an historically recent phenomenon: it was invented sometime around the turn of the eighteenth century, and would have been thought strange by Chaucer or even Pope,&quot; (Eagleton 16).

I find it hilariously inconceivable to think that Chaucer, himself, did not know his work would one day be great, that it would be studied by millions of scholars and be deemed worthy of criticism and praise.  And yet, it must be true. It makes sense for one to not to know how good or bad his or her own work is, but to not the effect it had on his own society is a phenomenal concept.  Literature must not have been thought of very highly back in Chaucer&apos;s day.  It was clearly not known then how literature can be life-changing, sometimes even affecting entire societies for the better or worse with its awesomeness.


      
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<entry>
   <title>A String Of Pearls</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/01/a_string_of_pearls.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30119</id>
   
   <published>2009-01-27T14:41:54Z</published>
   <updated>2009-01-27T14:42:28Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&#8220;There is no &#8216;literary&#8217; device - metonymy, synecdoche, litotes, chiasmus and so on - which is not quite intensively used in daily discourse,&#8221; (Eagleton 5). Like pearls on a string, one right after another the words came. Though in English,...</summary>
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      &#8220;There is no &#8216;literary&#8217; device - metonymy, synecdoche, litotes, chiasmus and so on -  which is not quite intensively used in daily discourse,&#8221; (Eagleton 5).

Like pearls on a string, one right after another the words came.  Though in English, they seemed to foreign to me, so distant.  However, I chose only to define one of them; I didn&#8217;t want to take all the good words.

&#8220;Metonymy is a trope which substitutes the name of an entity with something else that is closely associated with it,&#8221; (Hamilton 41).

When I looked this up, I felt a little ridiculous because this word, &#8220;metonymy,&#8221; had already been highlighted in my book, which obviously meant we had gone over it to some extent, though perhaps only briefly, in EL150.  After further consideration of the matter, I decided it wasn&#8217;t so bad because not everyone will remember everything, and this is just something that did not stick with me.  It&#8217;s not like I use this word in my everyday vocabulary, and a refresher is always a good thing to do.  No worries.


      
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<entry>
   <title>You Can&apos;t Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/01/you_cant_have_your_cake_and_ea.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30118</id>
   
   <published>2009-01-27T14:40:51Z</published>
   <updated>2009-01-27T14:41:34Z</updated>
   
   <summary> &#8220;&#133;The Lover cannot kiss, his love will always be fair,&#8221; (Austin 53). The above interpretation of a line in Keats&#8217;s poem, &#8220;Ode to a Grecian Urn,&#8221; would suggest, as the age-old saying goes, that Lover cannot have his cake...</summary>
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&#8220;&#133;The Lover cannot kiss, his love will always be fair,&#8221; (Austin 53).

The above interpretation of a line in Keats&#8217;s poem, &#8220;Ode to a Grecian Urn,&#8221; would suggest, as the age-old saying goes, that Lover cannot have his cake and eat it, too.  In this case, kissing his maiden would be relational to the eating of the cake, whereas keeping his love &#8220;fair&#8221; by not kissing her would be the having of his cake.  If he eats his cake he doesn&#8217;t have it anymore.  If the Lover kisses his maiden, he could risk destroying the comfortable relationship he shares with her.  And so, like the analysis and critique of this poem taken on in Austin&#8217;s essay, it goes around and around in a never-ending circle, or what-ifs, what-if-nots, could&#8217;ves, should&#8217;ves, would&#8217;ves.  Decisions, decisions, but what to do?  Would he rather eat his cake and enjoy it while still in the prime of life, or not risk ruining a good thing, even though, perhaps, enjoying it instead of preserving it could turn out to be so much better?  It is possible that it exactly the question Keats was trying to raise from his readers.


      
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<entry>
   <title>Art: It&apos;s a Personal Thing</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/01/art_its_a_personal_thing.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30117</id>
   
   <published>2009-01-27T14:39:44Z</published>
   <updated>2009-01-27T14:40:17Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&#8220;The emotion of art is impersonal,&#8221; (Eliot 6). Poetry, or rather, art of any kind, may possess any number of aspects about itself and may be called many things, but &#8220;impersonal&#8221; is definitely not one of them. Art is the...</summary>
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      &#8220;The emotion of art is impersonal,&#8221; (Eliot 6).

Poetry, or rather, art of any kind, may possess any number of aspects about itself and may be called many things, but &#8220;impersonal&#8221; is definitely not one of them.  Art is the expression of a feeling or emotion, or a vast range of such, that is created by a human being.  Coming from a human being, and therefore having been invested with the human emotions of its creator, there is something to be said on the subject.  Art is extremely personal.  It is not only personal to its creator, but can become personal or meaningful to someone who experiences it.  The artist puts a part of themselves into their creation, because without that part of themselves, the art would be lacking in passion and personality.  It would be meaningless, and the audience would have difficulty relating to it.  The emotion that goes into the art comes from a personal part of the artist, a part that the artist is willing to share and give to the world by expressing it in their art.


      
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<entry>
   <title>&quot;Dogs Must Be Carried on the Escalator&quot;</title>
   <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/2009/01/dogs_must_be_carried_on_the_es.html" />
   <id>tag:blogs.setonhill.edu,2009:/BethanyBouchard//380.30064</id>
   
   <published>2009-01-26T21:51:35Z</published>
   <updated>2009-01-27T14:29:43Z</updated>
   
   <summary>&quot;...It at least has the advantage of suggesting that &apos;literature&apos; may be at least as much a question of what people do to writing as of what writing does to them,&quot; (Eagleton 6). This passage captured my attention and gauged...</summary>
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      <name></name>
      
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   <content type="html" xml:lang="en-us" xml:base="http://blogs.setonhill.edu/BethanyBouchard/">
      &quot;...It at least has the advantage of suggesting that &apos;literature&apos; may be at least as much a question of what people do to writing as of what writing does to them,&quot; (Eagleton 6).

This passage captured my attention and gauged my interest the most out of any in this slightly dry and drawn-out introduction.  It had me at &quot;Dogs must be carried on the escalator.&quot;  It was hilarious to think people might actually take the sign literally.  Of course, it most likely means if a person is traveling with a dog, then one must carry it when on board the escalator, probably as a safety precaution.  However, just like any other phrase or word in the English language, that sign could be interpreted at least one other way, if not several ways.  Someone taking the sign literally could read it as if one wishes to ride the escalator, he or she must carry a dog on the escalator in order to do so. Now, that sounds just ridiculous, but that would be hysterically funny if the sign did, indeed, mean exactly that.  Not only can we be affected by writing, but writing can be affected by &quot;what we do to it,&quot; how we interpret it, and how we twist the author&apos;s original intent or meaning.
      
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