Warm-Up Type your response in the box. Read the following poem: Play by William Carlos Williams Subtle, clever brain, wiser than I am, by what devious means do you contrive to remain idle? Teach me, O master. Now read it aloud. Try reading it aloud a few times. Did the poem take on any new or different meaning when you read it aloud? If so, how? Did you prefer reading the poem aloud or reading it to yourself?

“he did not want to look at the fish." what does this say about santiago's character? a. santiago feels badly that the fish died in vain. b. santiago feels sorry for himself because he's out too far. c. santiago feels sorry that he dragged the fish so far out to sea. d. he blames the fish for making him sail so far out to sea to hunt for him.

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream

Whiat is the best example of a story's historical content?