Is it glorious to die for your country? It is plain that one would almost unconsciously declare 'YES' in such a manner, that the tone of their voice declares the gratification of their soul. In a room of individuals, every head would bow. In a chorus of declaration, every face would brighten. In an evoked quote, every thought would captivate and absorb each person’s whole being. Into a state of reminisce and delight would each proud American slip into the grip of.

Her hands lay motionless, folded
in her lap—calloused, wrinkled, worn—
and loving. She looked and
remembered another's hands.
His had worked with wood,
in his father's shop...but the
Designer had not destined
them to remain content as a
carpenter's tools. She smiled a
little, and drew out
older treasures from her
wealth of memory. Those
small hands had first held her
heart when he touched
her face that night in
the stable. Tiny baby fingers
grasped her dark curls. And

Sometimes I feel like a person holding a lantern behind his back in the dark. Anyone who follows has light to guide his way, but he who holds the light has little to see by. In my experience I find that I will say or do something that simply seems right to me, something that inspires others, but only later on will I begin to understand its full significance.

As some of you may know, I am doing my junior project on Gerard Manley Hopkins. What is junior project? It's a time when you, as a student, choose one person from your major (a poet for me since I'm a literature major) and focus on him or her all semester. Gerard Manley Hopkins is a poet from Victorian times, although his poetry is usually placed among the moderns. He was always a poet, from birth till death. However, he gave up writing for seven years directly after he became a Jesuit priest. Almost all of the poetry we have comes after those seven years.

Here is my satire on Shakespeare's play "The Taming of the Shrew." If it seems really strange just remember it's a satire ;-)

Lucentio Meets Love in Padua

Two figures approach Padua silhouetted against the setting sun. The one a dignified, well-proportioned dog, the other, ridding atop the dog’s back, an elegant, exquisitely-preened, young rooster. With an affectionate glance down at his companion, Tranio, Lucentio, the rooster, joyfully crows,

After a long walk through the woods next to his house, Johnny sat on a fallen tree that had a trail of carpenter ants going over it to the rotten crab apples that had fallen the week before. Mushrooms of different kinds covered the fallen tree. Ahead, there were giant trees with several birds perched on their branches. Some trees were so old and gnarled that they had large holes in their trunks. He would use these holes to hide some of the food his mother had cooked him for dinner. He hated the way his mother cooked, and he thought Dad did, too.

Sometimes at night,
I sit alone and wonder,
I wonder about my life,
So much is there to ponder,
My life is a mystery to me,
It’s supposed to be so perfect,
A perfect life for a perfect girl,
A perfect story in a perfect world,
But perfection is blemished,
And that blemish remains untouched,
Instead we deny it's existence,
And try to cover it up,
The one and only blemish,
That so-called "perfection" has,
Is called free-will, and unlike perfection,
This free-will will last,

Imagine before you a lad of 18, clothed in dusty kakis, a blue sports jacket, and a tie that seems to choke him. He holds on to a leather strap and talks to a fellow traveler while the bus jostles. Outside you see the sandy glow of sun and stone twisting by. Down every street spreads Rome.

Its funny how beginnings seem to shape the middles and endings of things. I still hold this memory of myself in Rome during Easter because it was on that bus that I decided to apply to The University of Dallas. A conversation began it. My year at UD is all wound up in that bright day in Rome.

Ian woke up at 6:30a.m. With a yawn he groggily got out of his bed, walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. With another long, loud, yawn he opened the refrigerator door and grabbed some bacon and eggs and headed for the stove.

Hearing noises Elaine walked out into the kitchen and exclaimed “Ian, what do you think you’re doing?” With a determined look she continued, “I thought you where on a diet?” With that she turned back and stormed back into the bedroom.