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Senior Portfolio

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Katarina Choi

on 7 May 2010

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Transcript of Senior Portfolio

[LOVE] Hamlet A shower “Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear [Father] murdered, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words And fall a-cursing like a very drab, A <scullion!>Fie upon ‘t! Foh! About, my brains!-Hum, I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have, by the very cunning of the scene, Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions. For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I’ll observe his looks; I’ll tent him to the quick. If he do blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be a <devil,> and the <devil> hath power T’ assume a pleasing shape: yea, and perhaps, Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me. I’ll have grounds More relative than this. The play’s the thing Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.” Act2 sc 2 Theme is a basic of the story which the author wants to show to readers. As a literature is a completed art, it should contain unified artistic composition and talks about interior motif of the story. If there is conflict between motif and theme, the literature is failed. Since a theme is a center message which author gives, it is selected by author’s independence; it is affected by his thoughts or a world views. The range of theme is really wide; it can be death, sorrow, anger, love and so on.
My favorite theme of literature is love. It is different from fairy tales which always have happy ending. Sometimes story ends happily,but sometimes, love calls one's death or revenge. As love cannot be defined in certain words, the different aspect of love is pretty interesting. At that night, a boy thinks same thing even though he is lying down to sleep whether he will go to a girl’s house before she leaves. Then, his father who went to village came back. “I can’t believe about Mr. Yoon’s family. He sold everything which he had and now this bad thing happens.” The mother who is sewing under the candle lights says. “She was only child, right?” “Yes, they lost two sons when they were young.” “How come they don’t have fortune about it.” “Well, This girl was sick several time but they couldn’t even able to buy medicines for her. It means there is no possible descendent of the family. Ah! By the way, this girl is shrewd. Before she dies, she said if she dies, please let her wear whatever she is wearing now.” Genre[Fiction] Lord of the flies Charlie and the chocolate factory Sure enough, the elevator had shot right up through the roof of the factory and was now rising into the sky like a rocket, and the sunshine was pouring in through the class roof. In five seconds they were a thousand feet up in the sky. “The elevator’s gone mad!” shouted Grandpa Joe. “Have no fear, my dear sir,” said Mr. Wonka calmly, and he pressed another button. The elevator stopped. It stopped and hung in mid-air, hovering like a helicopter, hovering over the factory and over the very town itself which lay spread out below them like a picture postcard! Looking down through the glass floor on which he was standing, Charlie could see the small far-away houses and the streets and the snow that lay thickly over everything. It was an eerie and frightening feeling to be standing on clear glass high up in the sky. It made you feel that you weren’t standing on anything at all. “Hold him!” They got his arms and legs. Ralph, carried away by a sudden thick excitement, grabbed Eric’s spear and jabbed at Robert with it. “Kill him! Kill him!” All at once, Robert was screaming and struggling with the strength of frenzy. Jack had him by the hair and was brandishing his knife. Behind him was Roger, fighting to get close. The chant rose ritually, as at the last moment of a dance or a hunt. “Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!” Ralph too was fighting to get near, to get a handful of that brown, vulnerable flesh. The desire to squeeze and hurt was over-mastering. Jack’s arm came down; the heaving circle cheered and made pig-dying noises. Then they lay quiet, panting, listening to Robert’s frightened snivels. He wiped his face with a dirty arm, and made an effort to retrieve his status. “Oh my bum!” He rubbed his rump ruefully. Jack rolled over. “That was a good game.” “Just a game,” Genre is a particular type of literature which readers consider as a class because it has its own characteristic: style, theme, plot, atmosphere, etc. Fiction is one of them. It is a story which talks about imaginary people and events. As almost every literature is affected by social background or events, fiction is also influenced by it. As an author shows what he wants by imaginary people and scene, he or she puts clues through characters, conflict or some other things which symbolize. I like finction because it is easier to read than non-fiction because it contains touching and funny elements. Also it arouses my interest more than non-fiction.
When non-fiction is talking about truth, fiction shows people an imaginary world. Mostly fiction seems like that it has possiblities to happen in real life so it might call people's interest more. Song Swing low Sweet Chariot

I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?
Coming for to carry me home,
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
If you get there before I do,
Coming for to carry me home,
Tell all my friends I’m coming, too.
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
I’m sometimes up and sometimes down,
Coming for to carry me home,
But still my soul feels heavenly bound,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
The brightest day that I can say,
Coming for to carry me home,
When Jesus washed my sins away,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Song is an art form to express feeling or thought. To some people, song is their job and dream. To other, song is to enjoy their leisure or rest. Also to some other, song is hope or desire. In history, many songs expressed how the social background was. In the era of African slaves, there were many songs which showed desire to have freedom. When we see their songs, there are their hopes, desires, fears and so on. When there is national problem, there are songs to give hope to people. Also, people sing songs in certain days such as birthday or graduation day to celebrate those days.
If we say song is also one of literature,then it might be my favorite genre because I feel like it talks about my situation so I can agree what it says and be in that song.
There is saying by Santana, ‘When you play or sing a song, you are always cursing, praying, and making love. ’ POetry Sonnet XXX When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear times' waste;
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end
Should This Life Sometimes Deceive You Should this life sometime deceive you, Don't be sad or mad at it!
On a gloomy day, submit: Trust -- fair day will come, why grieve you?
Heart lives in the future, so What if gloom pervades the present?
All is fleeting, all will go; What is gone will then be pleasant

What though life conspire to cheat you, Do not sorrow or complain.
Lie still on the day of pain, And the day of joy will greet you.
Hearts live in the coming day.
There's an end to passing sorrow.
Suddenly all flies away, And delight return to-morrow.
Poetry is a literature which expresses feeling or thought by short words with rhyme. It contains musical element such as rhythm and rhyme. Poetry reflects the social feeling, desire or atmosphere in the poem. Many figures of languages are used in poetry such as metaphor, simile.
As it is short, it doesn't show the message directly. To find a message through short languages is attractive point of Poetry rather than other literature. Mostly, they don’t have enough lines to explain how characters are or what is going on. However, that's why there is no certain explanation about it. Everyone can have their own analysis and those are different from one other.
Poetry is profound and interesting. Short stories Story of an hour A lucky day She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.

There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will --aspowerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
“Look at this. Why don’t you talk.” “Are you dead, Why don’t you talk.” ”You don’t answer me again. You are really dead.” Then he saw lied one’s eye without black pupils. “These eyes! These eyes! Why don’t they look me directly but look only ceiling!” He was chocked with tears. Then from alive person’s eye, tears fell in big drops on dead one’s stiff face. Suddenly, Mr. Kim muttered while rubbing his face to dead one’s. “I bought SeollongTang but why can’t you eat, Why can’t you eat. Today was lucky unlike usual. Short story is literally short literature. They are fiction. Because of pages limitation, it usually contains simple summary, organized structure and concise style. Almost every child book is short story. Unlike novel which reenacts various aspects of real world in staid expressions, short story has strong characteristic to show one side of real world by one point of view. So there is no plot twisting neither.
Authors usually give foreshadowing in the stories and end. Telling a story in one view is strength of short stories and which the long novel can’t have. The strongest appealing of short stories is that we can read it whenever we like without pressure to finish it. As short story is short, authors usually decide to show allusions rather than telling everything. Literary Movement (Modernism) mending wall a small ball shot by Dwarf …
There were it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having though of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
“I fell asleep while reading a book and I dreamt. In my dream, I set a net. I wore swimming goggles and went into water to see that fat fishes are caught in my net. A flight of fishes swam toward my net. However those were not fat fishes. Those were nothing but prickles and two eyes. Thousands of big skinny fishes caught in the net made cried. I was scared. After I came out of the water, I pulled up a net. Plenty of angular fishes were hooked. Suddenly they leapt to me. As fish bones touched my body, my skin was split. In the pain of being torn, I shouted to help me and I woke up. ” Setting From Narrative of Life of Frederick Douglass,
an American Slave a letter written by flower petals Theater/plays Romeo and Juliet Antigone “O my love, my wife! Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Though art not conquered; beauty’s ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death’s pale flag is not advanced there. … Ah dear Juliet, why are thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, And near from this palace of dim night Depart again. Here, here will I remain, Depart again, come lie though in my arm, Here’s to thy health, where’er thou tumblest in. O true apothecary! … Here’s to my love! O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.” “Every kind of stillness. The hush when the executioner's ax goes up at the end of the last act. The unbreathable silence when, at the beginning of the play, the two lovers, their hearts bared, their bodies naked, stand for the first time face to face in the darkened room, afraid to stir. The silence inside you when the roaring crowd acclaims the winner—so that you think of a film without a sound track, mouths agape and no sound coming out of them, a clamor that is not more than picture; and you, the victor, already vanquished, alone in the desert of your silence. That is tragedy.” Author Emily Dickinson William WordsWorth NOVEL The Great Gatsby Oliver Twist SENIOR
PORTFOLIO THE END^*^ There is no frigate like a book
To tak us lnds away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul! “If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that it is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that it is poetry. Is there any other way? ” Graduation Song Setting is not just place where story happens. It sets mood of story and is one of strategic necessity. Setting is a stage of literature where and when the events happen. It hints the characteristic or mental state of characters and the events. There are two major types of setting: time and place. Time is when the character acts or something happens. As time goes, the events go along. Place is where the events happen. Weather is also one of setting which affects story a lot; it is also one of allusion. Snow mostly means innocence, cleanness, etc and rain usually means death, despair, or goodbye.
There are some literatures which were affected by era. In 18th century, Korea was under Japan’s control. Literatures from that era were mostly about the hope toward independence and hatred toward cruel actions of Japanese. It is called as historic setting as well.
I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland. I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to have ever met a slave who could tell of his birthday. They seldom come nearer to it than planting-time, harvest- time, cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time. Play is a performance literature with music and dances. There are three main elements which make play: actors, stages, and audience. This is very interesting literature which stimulates people’s sights. As we see the play, we can concentrate more in the story and feel like what the character feels.
Also, play is not just acting, but there should be connection between actors and audience. Something special about play is that audience and actors can have same minds to understand the story. They laugh together and they cry together. Everyone can think same way. That is an advantage that theater has. The lights, music, props, and make-up raise more tension and make people to concentrate more in the play.
I like tragedy play such as Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet. Even though the ending is sad, there is something really touches me and through hardship, it moves me more.
On mother’s hand, there were plenty of petals. Then she put out small portable dining table which was only used for people of high birth. She wrote letters with petals on it.
“San. (Mountain)”
“Ha-Neul (Sky)”
“Byul (star)”
The room erupted in her voice.
Seung-Woo Saw the letters which mother wrote. That was nothing when they were read in Japanese way: ‘yama’, ‘Sora’, ‘Hosi.’ However, in Korean, they touched his mind. They heave his chest.
The mountain which is written by petals is high. The sky which is written by petals is blue. The star which is written by petal is bright. The letters on portable dining table were beautiful. Ah, tears! Mother was crying. Seung-Woo kneel down in front of table.
Literary movement is an international change of literature styles. After literary movement, the writing style or way of development of story is different from previous style. As the industry and cultures changes, the literature also changed.
Modernism is one of them. In the beginning of 20th century, modernism happens to against realism which is the center of 19th century’s arts. It makes literature to affect by readers, not absolute things. Irony is an important technique of modernist literature. Also, in this era, women took more roles than the past. Some male authors aimed participation of women in literary world but many talented women author appear in this era. It is one of biggest changes from the past.
Author is the one who writes a story. They use language to show what they want to talk about, what they think or what situation is. Some people write because they like but to some people, it is their job. There are many kinds of authors: poet, novelist, play-writers, etc.
I want to talk about poet. He is the one who writes poetry. Maybe I could say poetry has the hardest time to finish their literature. In shortest lines and pages, they need to show what they think. They need to how to show their message even though they don’t mention directly. They think a lot and observe around carefully. They think and write from their deep heart.
WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. Novel is a one of literature which is imagination. Historical story, traditional stories, or real story cannot be a novel. Novel is not a real story which is based on author’s imaginary and the background. If an author is anonymous, then it is not novel. It should have certain elements: theme, plot structure, etc.
Novel leads people into fantasy world, but sometimes it seems like it can be real happening. That’s why it makes people to be in it more. Something different from short story is that novel is plot twisting. This makes people to have interests even more. Unlike a short story which is basically talking about a simple event, novel has several hardship or chances to finish the stories. Even though there is only one story, there are many happening and mental changes of characters. It is an attractive point of novel and due to this, sometimes I skip sleeping to know what will happen next and how the story will be ended.
He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself. “Will you return to this gang of robbers, and to this man, when a word can save you? What fascination is it that can take you back, and make you cling to wickedness and misery?”
“When ladies as young, and good, and beautiful as you are,” replied the girl steadily, “give away your hearts, love will carry you all lengths—even such as you, who have home, friends, other admirers, everything, to fill them. When such as I, who have no certain roof but the coffin-lid, and no friend in sickness or death but the hospital nurse, set our rotten hearts on any man, and let him fill the place that has been a blank through all our wretched lives, who can hope to cure us? Pity us, lady—pity us for having only one feeling of the woman left and for having that turned, by a heavy judgment, from a comfort and a pride into a new means of violence and suffering.”
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