Total Eclipse Passage Reflection

I chose to write about the last passage of this essay.
Dillard writes, "We never looked back. It was a general vamoose, and an odd one, for when we left the hill, the sun was still partially eclipsed-  a sight rare enough, and one which, it itself, we would probably have driven five hours to see. But enough is enough. One turns at least even from glory itself with a sigh of relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home."
This passage stood out to me because it not only addresses the eclipse and what happened after, but also human nature in general. I liked it because I think there is truth in the way she tells us that humans seek familiarity. This sentence particularly stuck with me:  "even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home." What I believe she is saying is that even when we have reached the height of existence and are at the peak of everything beautiful and amazing, we will always return to the familiarness of routine. I find this happens to me time and time again, that even when I have everything I wanted I still find myself back at where I began, sticking to the same familiar path. There is a discomfort in breaking from the usual, and this can hold us back from experience amazing things.
I think this passage fits into the whole essay well. It wraps up everything with a little bit of reflective writing, widening the view to not only the eclipse but to human nature in general.

1) In this essay, I would say the two views of time that are involved are the idea of infinite time, where the years "don't pass", and the circles that time takes us on, as he moves from boy to man, son to father.
2) At the end of the essay, White is struggling with two different things.
First, earlier on, he is struggling with the  passage of time and how increased technology changes the lake for him. For example, the motor boats now have louder engines and this disturbs his view that the lake is constant and never changing.
The second concept he is struggling with is how time is effecting him. White says at the end of this story, "As he buckled the swollen belt, suddenly my groin felt the chill of death." I would say that this means that White finally feels as though time as has caught up with him, and he now feels death closer then it ever had been before.

The Story of an Hour

The reason that Mrs. Mallard's heart problem was ironic was that they were worried she would die from it after the shock of hearing of her husbands death. But instead, she died after the shock of seeing him again. I would say its the kind of sad irony stories often employ, where even though they could have lived on together, she is the one who dies in the end.
The limitations in this story create a scene in which the author can go into detail for every moment. We can feel the way in which Mrs. Mallard sobs after learning of her husband's death, the way her eyes looked, the emotions that coursed through her. Every moment in this story is packed full of detail and choice words that add to the overall feel of the story. Phrases like "new spring life" and "breath of rain" add to the contrast of life and death in certain scenes, which I thought was an interesting touch.
I would say that the Mallards have a pretty standard relationship. It says in the text, "And yet she had loved him- sometimes. Often she had not." I think a lot people feel that way about their husbands/boyfriends, a kind of love hate relationship. It's hard, as this story addresses, to give in to someone and let them control your emotions, even if they are not doing it intentionally or cruelly. I think that the freedom that she felt was in finally being able to feel for herself, and have no one control her emotions any longer. She was bound to no one but herself, and I can see how liberating that could feel.

Heavy and bold, it sits in stony silence until it is called upon to announce in its’ loud, ringing voice. And when it does, all can hear, echoing off the surrounding mountains in a victorious bang, bang, bang. Proudly, it calls to all of us. It is the sound of sweat and painted white lines and winning smiles at the end of a well-fought game.

The paint is peeling on its cold black arms, absorbing the chill of the day, and patches of red rust stick out like sores. Water droplets cling to its curves, resting delicately on the edge of falling. A heavy sphere hangs in dead center, the strength behind it’s resounding voice.

It rests on a platform of cold grey stone, different chunks piled upon each other and holding it in place. It’s black arms, straight and linear, overlap with the circles, looking like an angle problem in geometry.

It doesn’t only mean victory, however, it is also the sound of the departing seniors. On a certain warm night in the spring we can hear it clang as well, marking the end of the year. It comes with screams and laughs and the screeching sound of Mr. Clinton’s golf cart.

Good Readers and Good Writers

I think that to be a good reader you have to have an open mind when beginning the book. One can't go into reading a book with a prejudice because then their experience and opinion of the book will be compromised.
Also, I think good readers should have a good imagination. Books can be extremely boring and dry if you don't have the imagination and creativity to create your own places that the author leads you to. It's kind of like building a house, the author can give you the bare materials and the structure, but you are the one to furnish and paint and decorate with your mind.
That is probably my favorite part of reading, the creation of people and places in your mind. Sometimes, if a book is interesting enough, the characters in it began to take shape in a more real life form, and I imagine their reactions and what they would do in response to situations I face.
Being a good writer, I would say, is alike to being a good reader. One must have a good imagination, especially if you are writing fiction. You have to create something that the readers can latch on to, something that gives them enough to start imagining, but not so much that their mind has nothing to create on their own.
Also, you must learn how to be honest in your writing. As a reader, I find that it is easier than you think it is to detect writing that is not honest, and that makes me automatically dislike a piece of writing.