“hey, kid, how old are you? ” the man interrogating me was an inmate. i could not see his face, but his voice was weary and warm. “fifteen.” “no. you’re eighteen.” “but i’m not,” i said. “i’m fifteen.” “fool. listen to what i say.” then he asked my father, who answered: “i’m fifty.” “no.” the man now sounded angry. “not fifty. you’re forty. do you hear? eighteen and forty.” why does the prisoner insist that wiesel and his father lie about their ages? a)he is probably deranged because of the conditions in the concentration camp. b)he wants to win the favor of the nazi guards. c)he is trying to save their lives. d)he considers them a threat and is trying to get rid of them.

hes trying to save their lives

mine is hell,we all hate each other,we fight but me and my mom,dad,and siblings get along.

now, of course, the quality and the seasonability of these winter dreams varied, but the stuff of them remained.   they persuaded dexter several years later to pass up a business course at the state university—his father, prospering now, would have paid his way—for the precarious advantage of attending an older and more famous university in the east, where he was bothered by his scanty funds. but do not get the impression, because his winter dreams happened to be concerned at first with musings on the rich, that there was anything merely snobbish in the boy. he wanted not association with glittering things and glittering people—he wanted the glittering things themselves. often he reached out for the best without knowing why he wanted it—and sometimes he ran up against the mysterious denials and prohibitions in which life indulges.

there you go thats what we are missing