Jade Bag

I have a chanel jade-green colored bag, and spilled coffee over it, how can i clean my bag? any suggestions?

What colour goes with jade? Wearing jade coloured dress - what colour accessories? I'm going to a wedding in September. I already have a jade coloured dress but what colour accessories should I wear. I want to wear a feather/flower fascinator in my hair, sandals and a bag. I just don't know what colour would go well with jade though - can anyone help please.

When rooting a Jade cutting (stem or leaf), what is the best rooting medium and should it be completely dry? I took two cuttings (around july 10th or so) from a 6 year old jade plant that is doing well and dipped them in rooting hormone and left them out to callous for three or four days. Then I placed them into a Cactus and Soil mix directly out of the bag and placed in a bright but sun-less window. Two weeks in I sprayed the top of the soil a few times of each one and one of them rotted from the cut on up within a week. The other one has been in the soil for over a month now and no sign of roots, meanwhile the cutting is slowly shriveling up. I feel like it needs a small amount of moisture, but I am afraid it will rot. any ideas? I really want this cutting to survive as it has a striking stem and branch shape. will the plant be able to absorb any water with no (visible) roots?

Who thinks that all theese jade goody jokes are really harsh? i mean come on! she has died no one should be making a joke of someone dead no matter how much you hate them cuz thats just mean here are some of the hurtful jokes i have heard: what did they give out on jade goody's funerasl? goody bags dont you think that all these jokes aren't nessecary who agrees with me and why?

Can I wear a brown and jade dress with black accessories? I have attend a formal dinner and this was the best fitting/looking dress. However, to keep within budget can I use a small semi-sequined black handbag I already own and would I wear black shoes to match the bag or brown to match the "Tequila dress"? http://www.monsoon.co.uk/invt/45030050&bklist=icat,5,shop,women,dresses,eveningdresses

Jade's Bags in the CBB house? How did Jade manage to get such enormous bags under her eyes? They have gotten worse since she arrived in the house, haven't they? Or am I seeing things?

Is it true they are giving away Jade goody bags? Hell no mines in the bin Hmm thanks same to you then No you people ae warped by celebrity shit and thats the problem she was a bitch anyway

do not buy jade goody perfume and heat magazines!! why? davina,dermot o leary,matthew wright and jade goody have the same agency,they have to support there employer!!..she is a disgusting bully person made rich by the public&media..do not buy her perfume or your supporting bullying and making the bully jade rich.there's 1,000's of other perfumes on the market.who wants jade goody in there bag.most definitely not me.support anti-bullying campaign and dont buy her perfume or heat magazines

what to wear with a jade dress? i have bought a jade dress from YSL, just above the knee, small sleeve and deep v neckline. what colour os shoes and bag should i wear with this dress? many thanks

who agrees that jade goody is pathetic!? jade bullied and disrespect all the celebrities with havin her hen-pecked jack coming all over in bedroom,bullied dirk for his alcohol and called him pathetic,screamed abuse at shilpa and called her pathetic,and cursed and sweared at 79yr ken russell in task issue,and the public are making her rich,SUPPORT THE ANTI-BULLYING CAMPAIGN DO NOT BUY HER PERFUME OR HEAT MAGS..ur making the bully richer and who wants jade goody in there bag

Does this pot have good enough drainage for a jade plant? I have some experience with succulents, and I know that their soil needs to dry out thoroughly between waterings, and that porous clay pots are better for them than glazed or plastic pots. Anyway, I have a glazed ceramic pot that's about 10" deep and 10" across (it's kind of square). It has one drainage hole (about three-quarters of an inch across) in the bottom. I planted a jade plant in it using soil that was part cactus/succulent mix from a bag, and part coarse sand. I live in west Texas where the summers are VERY hot and dry, and once it's spring I plan to move the jade and leave it outside. Will the soil dry out fast enough for the jade to stay healthy?

What is in your make up bag right now? I have in mine: *MAC Studio Fix Fluid Foundation with SPF 15* *Revlon Bare It All Highlighter in Goldi-Looks* *Rimmel Natural Bronzer* *Chanel concealor* *Guerlain lip gloss in Sun Shimmer* *Chanel eyeliner in Jade (great 4 green eyes)* *Elizabeth Arden eyeliner in Smokey Black* *DiorShow mascara* *Chanel powder compact* *Rimmel Eye Quad in Bronzed* *MAC lip gloss in Tongue-n-Chic* *CoverGirl Wetslicks Fruit Spritzers in Watermelon Splash* *Wetshine Lipstick in Princess* And an eyelash curler. :)

Guess just what is in my " Goody Bag " ? No not Jade or Bill Oddie !

What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition in this novel? What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniques are there? Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Overnight bag -- Which color should I get? ? I can't decide between the black or the jade color. Which one do you like best? http://www.zappos.com/n/p/dp/37707387/c/18170.html (click on the color swatch under the picture to change colors)

jade goody (bull dog face ) in it for more publicity...think so.. wot a gob.. wouldn't touch that foul ...... mouthed bag with yours mate... is bull dog face just jealous cos Shilpa Shetty happens to be a beautiful nice mannered young lady and she aint...???

Can tea and coffee be used to fertilize plants? Hey, My nan gets used tea bags opens them up and puts the brown soggy tea on her plants, and also pours spare tea (cold obviously) onto the soil. A few questions :) 1. Which plants/tree/shrubs can you do this too? 2. Can you do it to either one of my plants which is; Jade Plant (Money Tree)/Sensitive plant/Venus Fly trap/Aloe Vera 3. Can this process be done with spare coffee (cold). Thanks very much

Stuck Jade Bangle Help!!!? I got it on by relaxing and lotion, now I cannot for the life of me get it off. I used lotion, soap, ice, raising my arm over my head and even windex. I tried the bag thing too. Does not work. Any other solutions? It's really bothersome and my hand is swollen. Also if I cannot get it off can it be broken off? Its the berma jadeite very hard. :...(

cute bag or not??????? http://rideshop.zappos.com/n/p/p/7407912/c/18170.html (in jade)

Which Coach bag should I get? (Sequin Pouch) http://www.coach.com/online/handbags/SearchResultsView?storeId=10551&catalogId=10051&langId=-1&quickOrder=yes&searchKeyword=sequin%20pouch&cacheKeyword=POUCH%20SEQUIN (in silver/jade) (Pretty much anything on this page) http://www.coach.com/poppy-us/little.html (Poppy Pop C Glam) http://www.coach.com/poppy-us/musthaves.html Suggestions are greatly appreciated! Thanks in advance.

If more special souvenirs from China besides mentioned below pls? Chinese crackers, instant Chinese soup; Chinese herbal medicines----Chinese opera books. The Cheongsam for women (their body hugging dress). Tablecloths. Tea Leaves. Chinese delicacies. Chopsticks. Pira Longans (round juicy fruits). Lychees. Bamboo shoots. Feng Shui lucky charms. Jade! Jade Bangles. Jade rings. Chinese brush for calligraphy. Chinese Jackstone. Pouches made of silk. Silk bags. Black gelatin drinks in cans. Pagoda bells. Chimes. Door chimes. Mooncakes. Baskets. Kung Fu shoes.

Do you believe in faith healing? I have heard lots of stories about miracle cures from very advanced cancer and wonder about the body's natural instinct to heal and part of me would love to pop over to Jade Goody's house with my bag of crystals and healing hands What are your views?

Can tea and coffee be used for plants? Hey, My nan gets used tea bags opens them up and puts the brown soggy tea on her plants, and also pours spare tea (cold obviously) onto the soil. A few questions :) 1. Which plants/tree/shrubs can you do this too? 2. Can you do it to either one of my plants which is; Jade Plant (Money Tree)/Sensitive plant/Venus Fly trap/Aloe Vera 3. Can this process be done with spare coffee (cold). Thanks very much

Which plants can be watered by tea and coffee as fertilizer.? Hey, My nan gets used tea bags opens them up and puts the brown soggy tea on her plants, and also pours spare tea (cold obviously) onto the soil. A few questions :) 1. Which plants/tree/shrubs can you do this too? 2. Can you do it to either one of my plants which is; Jade Plant (Money Tree)/Sensitive plant/Venus Fly trap/Aloe Vera 3. Can this process be done with spare coffee (cold). Thanks very much

What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniques are What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniques are there? Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

help?What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ technique What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniques are there? Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

So what do you think of this beginning? School is hard work sometimes. These were the words running through Jade Connors head as she emerged from her English class five minutes later than usual. She could hear a lot of muttering coming from her fellow pupils. She thought it was a bit stupid to complain, considering that they were still getting out earlier than the majority of the school, as their year had civics (for a designated day every week, each year has a free class for the period before lunch so the canteen won't be so crowded when the rest of the school gets out for lunch) but she still fet like complaining herself. She hated being alone, and that was the way things looked like going for her. It would only be for a few minutes, but they would be unenjoyable. What would people think when they saw her walking, without friends, down to the canteen. Deep down, Jade knew her fears were irrational, but she couldn't help being self-conscious. It was probably because she knew that if she ever just disappeared from school, no one would care or miss her that much. She just wasn't the kind of girl who stood out. Jade had never really had a best friend, either. She had friends, but no one she could call to talk about her problems and to help with theirs. She just had a crowd she could hang around with at lunch, and maybe every now and then hang out outside of school, although this was rare and only happened when a big group was involved. Jade couldn't say she was exactly happy with her life, but she wasn't unhappy either. She just plodded along with low expectations so she was never really disappointed. Jade was more bothered about being let out of class later than the rest of her class (although she didn't show it) because no one would have cared enough to wait for her, or to go looking for her. While thinking these negative thoughts, Jade marked this day down as a bad day. Every day she did the same thing. 'Bad day', 'Good day', 'Alright day' and many more in between. Jade was pretty enough. She was a brunette and her hair curled naturally, although Jade often straightened it because she didn't agree with curls. They just didn't do much for her appearance. Jade had a forgettable face. Her nose was straight, her lips were normal, and if someone were to look at Jade's face for a while they would probably remark that were eyes were further apart than normal. She also had a few spots here and there, but not much to stress about. Jade mostly covered them with make-up anyways, and they were concealed today. Jade was of average build too. She was a little short, but it wasn't really noticeable. Jade reached the lockers, which was a hang-out for people when they weren't at the canteen. A few girls were sitting around eating lunches they had brought in themselves. Jade only knew them by name. She knew little details about any of them. She wasn't really friendly with anyone outside her circle of friends. She didn't really see the point. Yes, she would say hello if they passed each other in a street, but she would never stop to talk with them. 'Hey,' said Jade, dropping her bag onto the pile of bags that belonged to the girls in her year. 'Have the girls gone down yet?' There was no need to ask who 'the girls' were. It was apparent who Jade's crowd was, as they were the only girls she bothered with. 'Yeah, they just headed down a couple of minutes ago,' a girl in Jade's Home Ec class, Sarah, said. 'The whole lot of them?' Jade asked. 'Yep,' said Sarah. 'Without you,' a rather unpleasant girl, Claire, remarked, her lips twitching into a smile. Claire had noticed how Jade always seemed to be a little outside the group, and she often remarked on it matter-of-factly. 'Yeah, I sorta noticed that,' Jade muttered, and she turned around and walked towards the nearest door leading out of the school. It was about a one-minute walk from the school to the canteen, and it looked like she had to go it alone. Thankfully, there weren't that many people around, as there was only one year who was allowed to be out, and most of them had already made their journey to the canteen. The only people Jade saw were other people from her English class and a teacher that was supervising the area. Walking extra fast, Jade reached the canteen and waited in the queue, scanning the tables for her friends. She quickly spotted them, all sitting together laughing. It didn't take long to get served and Jade brought her chips down to the table. 'Hey,' she said brightly. Everyone turned to face her and replied to her greeting. 'Why are you out so late?' Ellen, probably the nicest person in the group, asked. 'We got kept back five minutes in English 'cos some people were firing rubbers everywhere,' Jade explained. 'Ugh, is Jack Lynskey in your English class?' Another girl, Lucy, asked. 'Yep,' said Jade. 'He's always firing rubbers in every class,' said Lucy, rolling her eyes. 'He's in your core class, right?' Jade asked, glad she was the centre of attention among her fri

why one litreray text might be regarded as more literary than the other? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Sematic deviations, Phonetic parellelisms, what r they in sonnet18 of shakespear and in th novel of oscar wild The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g

What are your top 5 most memorable america's next top model moments of all time? mine are: 5. Tyra tricking jayla and nicole about packing their bags to london (S5) 4. Mercedes admitting she had lupis (S2) 3 Natasha overcoming the odds and making it to final 2 (S8) 2. Jade and Gina conflict (S6) 1. Tyra yelling at Tiffany (S4)

My second chapter( first four pages of it)? Chapter Two: Kismet Jade 1st Period AP English III 2ND Period AP Pre-calculus 3rd Period AP Physics 4th Period Aquatic Biology Lunch B 5th Period French III 6TH Period Leadership 7th Period AP European History Relief conquered anxiety. I’d been worried I wouldn’t get all the classes I’d asked for in my transcript. Taking five Advanced Placement classes was a lot of work, too much for most people, but I knew that I could do it. The classes weren’t necessarily hard but the colossal workload attached to them was extremely tedious and time consuming. Fear overshadowed relief; eclipsing anxiety. A new school, a new life, a new home. The three glorious gifts I’d been given by moving down south to Killeen. It was with my concession that it was done, Mom didn’t even have to drag me from the lushes’ comforts of Austin to come to the mundaness that was and would always be Killeen. I turned the yellow sheet of my schedule over for the crude overview map of the school, searching for my first period English class in Room 108. I sighed and walked off to make a desperate attempt at finding it. I made it to class a couple of minutes late having to ask a random person in the hallway to escort me to class, but I found this didn’t matter anyways. The teacher wasn’t even there. I bent my head over, carefully examining the laces of my shoes, and stalked off to an empty seat in the very back of the room. I shrugged off my empty book bag into the space below my chair, gazing around the classroom to view this foreign habitat that was my new one. The first thing I realized was how overly decorated it was. Literature posters plastered every space of the walls, overlapping the original white behind so thoroughly that not even a speck of it was visible. The teacher’s desk was despicably messy: Papers books, and pens were scattered all about it, even from this distance that was plainly visible. The second thing that I realized was how segregated everyone was. There was an invisible line in the class dividing the band geeks and anime nerds on the left of it and the jocks and other people who wore extremely tight clothes on the right of it. This was nostalgic; it had been exactly the same back in my old school. Though there had been a middle group, which I had been a part of, that served in place of the invisible equator. Both groups seemed to have liked us equally; I thought of us as being neutral. It seemed things would be different at this school. Inevitably, I would no longer be able to remain neutral and would have to chose between one of the sides, being that weird new kid in the back of the classroom would soon no longer be an available option. For now though, it was a more appealing alternative. I sighed and dropped my gaze from my surroundings and looked down at my heavily graffitied desk, contemplating the events that led me to be here. Mom’s and Dad’s divorce had not been as dramatic as I thought it would be, considering the enormity of their personalities, but in fact it turned out to be a clean, mutual break. Mom was exhausted of the city life in Austin and had out rightly said to Dad that she wanted to move back to her hometown of Killeen. Of course Dad didn’t take this well at all; he had been born, raised, and even went to college in Austin. He refused, Mom filed for divorce, he agreed, and I was left betwixt the two. I truly did love my dad just as much as I loved my mom, but if it were a question as to whom I’d rather live with, he wouldn’t be the one to come out on top. So a week after my birthday on the twenty-second of June, I was packing my bags and getting prepared to spend the remaining month of my summer vacation in Killeen. After moving everything into the new house, which was actually only slightly smaller then the one back in Austin, I went around town to see if there was anything to whisk away the unavoidable hours of boredom from being inside the house for too long. I drove around the small town, went inside its shops, and even took a brave stab at going inside its disappointedly tiny mall, when I came to the conclusion that I had willingly moved to the most dismal, boring place in Texas; possibly in the whole U.S.A I could not understand Mom’s affinity for Killeen try as I might, and soon found myself privately wishing I had chosen to stay with Dad back in Austin. A beep over my head pulled me out of my thoughts and the sound of a girl’s voice issued around the classroom, announcing to stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance and Texas Flag, which were succeeded by a moment of silence. After sitting down back in my graffitied desk to buckle in for the silence, I noticed how everyone’s heads all darted towards me as soon as they too had sat down. I felt my cheeks turn red and quickly looked down at my desk, starring intently at the name someone had carved into it. Nicholas. “Thank you,” came the girl’s voice once again. “Now will you please turn on your T.V to channel 76 for E.T.V; today’s Eagle announcements.” I looked up at the T.V, a more satisfactory distraction, expecting for someone to turn it on, but no one bothered. I could no longer feel anyone’s eyes gazing intently at me, but I looked around anyways just to be positive. The people on the left were all grossly emerged in a conversation about the newest episode of an anime involving ninjas; the people on the right were recounting the events of last Saturday’s party with extreme enthusiasm. Nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to me, having found their own social life much more interesting than the new kid in the back of the room. I relaxed a little, my disposition becoming less rigid. I looked up at the clock above the whiteboard behind the teacher’s desk to see what time it was. 9:05. This must have been a pretty horrible teacher to be late for her own first period class on the first day of school. My eyes casually looked around the class before sinking down to my desk again, but before they did I saw not quite everybody had looked away from me. A boy with short brown hair and deep chocolate eyes on the right side of the room had looked up from his cell phone that he had been avidly texting on and met my gaze expectantly. I considered dropping my eyes from his but thought that doing so would have been rude, so I simply stared back. I had anticipated for this to be awkward but instead found the unasked attention he was extorting toward me was contrarily pleasant. I weighed the few option presented to me. There was a wide open door for me to walk through if I was to submit to its provocation, but I knew how conceited and selfish people on the other side had the potential to be and ordinarily were. The other door beside this one was marginally open; only a fraction of light escaped from its crack. If I were to forcefully open this door then I knew that that meant I would be skyrocketed to the bottom of the school’s food chain. Even if the people down there with me were much kinder then the people higher up, I didn’t fancy being a lowly producer; not even close to being a primary consumer. I felt an unfathomable longing for the middle group that had always been there, I only now acknowledged how much I missed them. Unsure if I was making the best decision or not, I felt the muscles of my mouth uncomfortably twitch as I gave the gawking boy a timid smile. This had evidently been the sign of reassurance he had been looking and hopefully expecting to see because he flashed me an unabashed smile, revealing the braces on his teeth which didn’t mitigate the radiance of them in the slightest. The handle of the classroom’s door turned as someone from the other side opened it and I was forced out of curiosity to drop my prolonged gaze and instead look at who had entered the classroom: A squat women with short, fly-away, brown curly hair with some traces of gray in it who was wearing glasses that framed outrageously gray eyes. The people on both sides of the classroom quickly shifted their desks away from each other and stared placidly at whom I assumed had to be the teacher, silently evaluating how strict she might be. I gave a final fertile glance at the boy I was starring at and saw he had decided to take the same course of action at the same time I did. He winked at me before turning back around to face the front of the room and I surprised myself by genuinely smiling. Perhaps this place wouldn’t be as horrible as I had expected it to be. By now, the teacher had sat down in her own wooden, arched chair and was shuffling through the untidy items spread out among her desk. Once again, I looked up at the clock and saw only five minutes had transpired since I last looked at it. She was fifteen minutes late for her own class. “Ah, here it is!” she exclaimed in a heavily drenched Irish accent as she extracted a white paper from the top of a teetering pile of papers that looked as if the most gentlest breeze could cause them to topple over. “Now when I call your name, I would like you to respond with “here”. I’m very sure you are all used to this by now anyways….Jade Adkins!” “Here,” I responded quietly, looking back down at the embedded name on my desk as I felt the eyes of turned head piercing through me. “Eh? No Jade Adkins?” “No, no. I-I’m here,” I stuttered helplessly, speaking a little louder then before. My eyes still hadn’t left the name on my desk and my cheeks burned even more fiercely from the drawn out attention focused on me. “Well, speak up next time,” said the teacher in a tone meant for someone who had done her a deep wrong. She muttered something unintelligent under her breath, more then likely in Irish just in case somebody in the front row overheard her, and continued on with the roll. “Justin Armani!’ BTW: I'm fourteen years old and the first chapter I posted here earlier last week. Look at ony my profile for it if your interested :P. * I meant look on my profile for it, was typing really fast. Sorry. :)*

what literary elements are in this novel? Tone= mood,Diction,Irony,Theme,Structure,Style=metre,rhthm=repetition,Metaphor = magery=personification,assossance,alliteration The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

people going to big brother eviction on friday? hi. sorry, i know everyone is getting a bit sick of all these posts about big brother. but to anyone who is reading this that is going to the eviction on friday or knows someone that is.... please PLEASE take a bag of sh*t or something to throw at jade. get it right in her face. please that would just make my day tee hee i'm immature

novel!What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniqu What is foregrounded by its deviation, parallelism, repetition – what poetic features/ devices/ techniques are there? Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

foregrounding in poetry-where can u find deviation or parallelisim in this? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. G The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. in poetry mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

what do u understand by creative and literary in poetry? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

What literary devices are used in this text!?by oscar wild? The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Oscar Wilde's novel The Picture of Dorian Gray,can u find any devices? (imagery, rhyme, meter, theme, mood, and tone) Oscar Wilde's novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of

how can u analyse these literary text!what elements and devices u can find? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Why do we value celebrity for celebrity's sake above attaining fame via talent or achievement? What has caused us to develop such a "white trash" underclass that worships celebrity? We've seen our inarticulate, ill-educated, ignorant underclass, embodied by CBB's Jade, Danielle, Jack and Jo, on prime time tv this week instead of "Trisha" and "Jeremy Kyle" where such behaviour is usually confined. This seems to have left the general public shocked, as if a secret has been let out of the bag in highlighting to the world what the UK is becoming. A nation where the aspiration of a generation is to gain "reality tv show" fame in absence of effort, skills or talent to achieve wealth and prominence through hard work and application. Will some good come out of this, in that we will no longer tolerate the nation's media creating "Joe Public" superstars out of talentless halfwits? Or will, as I fear, we just crucify Jade and put her put it down as a "one off", and let the underclasses return to "Trisha" and Jeremy Kyle" where we don't have to watch them or worry about them....

How do you get rare items on Millsberry.com? I'm not asking for you to send free things to me, just how to get them. Any of these: Teacup bathtub, Silvie ball, Silvie plushy, stuff from the mines... jade eggs, pictures, bags of gold, mummies ect. Sqaure bowling balls, half chairs, Jenera stuff, and ANYTHING else you can think of. Do you know of any websites that explain how to get this stuff?... Or do you already have and know where the stuff is? Also... Cupid statue skeleton bust valentines candy Christmas-seasonal stuff like trees, fireplaces stockings ect. Underwater tubs half chairs square bowling balls jade eggs and other burried things, like their locations and where I can find them cheap Janera stuff

Foreigners visiting the USA...what do you see in our country that appeals to you...what grieves you? We need a fresh look at our country, because we are getting a bit jaded...our leadership has been a mixed bag and we have not always been the best neighbor...What do you see ...where are you from? Isabella...Colombia ! Candice...guyana !

why would choose such novel or poem to read? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Oscar Wilde's novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses....? (imagery, rhyme,meter, theme, mood, and tone)what are they in her chapter 1 whcih is as below---please help The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. "It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done," said Lord Henry languidly. "You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place."

dream analysis please?! toilet lol? it started in my mums car and it was the first day back at school. I hadnt straightened my hair or put any make-up on, and when i got to school luckily my friend jade had these mini straighteners in her bag, so i was straightening my hair in her form room. then fin came in (the boy i like) and he sat with me. my friend sofia gave him a look to say 'make a move', but then the scene changed to this new block in our school. all the girls went inside to these toilets, and i was sat in the cubicle and the toilet door was really low, so people can see in (i often have dreams where the toilet door is really low) and then my teacher mr harvey came over ( hes fat and bald and everyone calls him a perv but i think hes just very jovial lol and he makes me laugh, so he's one of my favorite teachers) and was watching me on the toilet. (i was covered by my shirt) i got really angry and was telling him to go away, but he couldnt really hear what i was shouting he was just saying no, and i said things like go round the corner and keep talking to me so you know im here, but he was still stood there. then another teacher, who is also one of my favorites, mr woods, came round and at first was on mr harveys side, but then i made them agree to close their eyes so i could pull my knickers back on. then i ran outside crying, and the boys were spaced out sat on this long bench, and i saw fin and ran over and sat with him and we 'cuddled' for ages. then the dream changed and i was in this activity centre thing, and there was this young boy, and i just remember saying 'do you wanna make out?' :S :S :S

what literary techniques cn u identify in this text!by oscare wild? The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. "It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done," said Lord Henry languidly. "You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place."

can some one correct this? Could you please correct the words if wrong and make sure that the tenses are right and if possible put it in paragraphs. Thanks “Ohmigod!” Jade squealed “What?” Lena and I asked at the same time “How can you guys say “What?” its two days before we finish school, finish Junior High. How can you say what?!” cried Jade. “Right” I uttered, we were in my shoe box size of a room hanging out and eating buttery popcorn on my glossy brown hardwood floor of my downtown New York City apartment. My shoe box’s walls were painted a creamy yellow with sepia pictures of the city hanging on the wall.” Nicky” my mom called “Yah?!” “Come here please”. What does she want now? I walked down the hall and into the kitchen where she was making supper. “What’s up?” I asked “Did you pack yet?” “No” “Then what are you waiting for, go pack right now I don’t care if your friends are here or not, maybe they’ll help you” “Fine” I said annoyed and walk off, back to my room. With a sigh I pulled my big red empty suit case out of my closet and plunked it on my twin size bed. “Your kidding me, you haven’t even packed yet?” Jade asked “No, have you?” That was a stupid question, why would I even ask that, of course Jade had packed her bags already. She’s been waiting for this since January for this trip. We are all going to Camp Green Lake for the summer. Lena and Jade got up off the floor and helped me pack. “We need a list” Jade said determined to finish my packing before supper. She got a piece of paper and a pen and wrote: Pillow Pillow Cases Sheets Blanket Shorts Underwear Socks Pants T-shirts Sweatshirt Rain Jacket Boots Insect repellant Sunscreen Hat Running Shoes Bathing suit Towel Toothbrush Toothpaste Hairbrush Shampoo/Personal Hygiene Items Money Digital Camera Books/Magazines Stationary Stamps Fuzzy Slippers Water Bottle Candy/Snacks “Do you think we need anything else?” Jade asked and handed me the list. It didnt seem like a lot of things for 3 months, only 30 things. “No it’s good but are you sure we’ll be able to fit all of this into one suit case? ” “Oh we’ll make it fit”. Lena picked out most of my clothes because she loves clothes and fashion. Jade checked the things off the list and I put the stuff in my suitcase, well other than the digital camera because I want to use it on the bus. I can correct the words my self but i don't know how the tenses should be

is this a good idea for Valentine?:D? Okaay. i make a bottle of origami stars and a card and 100 reasons why i love him :D i put it in a victoria's secret bag but instead of VICTORIA'S SECRET i cross it out and write JADE'S (my name) SECRET! imma have to bags on of them is the stars and stuff the other one is a "panty" hahaha imma make him choose one and on the panty bag imma write a note said "PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME" (or should i write something else?) Hhahahaa is this a good idea? or should i do something else?

I am writing a book and would like to know two things.? 1. what do you think of the first little bit? As she ran, the moon was high in the sky. It was a light shade of orange and the clouds were crowding around it. The girl was in trouble, and I don’t mean trouble like not doing your home work. I mean trouble like taking a precious amulet from a museum in the middle of the night. So as the girl ran from the security guards and their dogs, she checked that the amulet was still in her shoulder bag, and kept running. The girl was called Jade, after her incredibly green as the grass in the summer eyes. If she’d had hair when she was born she may have been called Ebony. For her hair was as black as the furthest reaches of space. The lips on her face were as red as in centre of the earth. Her long black hair came down to her waist as she could never afford to have it cut. She wore a pure white dress the came to her ankles and boots muddy brown. 2. I would like to see if I can publish it when I'm done. How do I do it?

Can someone edit my first chapter to my story? Now i know it is really bad but if some one could help me with it would be great. The twins looked out the frosted glass window as millions of rain drops fell to the ground. They waited there all night but no one came. No one came to tuck them in at night and say I love or read them a story that ends with happily ever after. 8 years Later: "Ash and jade wake up or your going to be late for school." A old woman yelled at them. "Fine!!" ash said as she got out of bed. Ash went to the bathroom and looked in mirror. Her crayon red hair was a mess and she had black eyeliner smeared around her gray eyes. "What time did you get in last night?" Ash jumped of voice of her twin. "Its only me." Jade said now looking at her self in the mirror. Jades long black hair was straight as needles and her gray eyes glowed like moons. "Don't scare me like that." Ash was now combing her hair. "Sorry next time I'll bag some pots and pans before I walk in our bathroom." Jade said sarcastically. The old woman who woke them up walked in the bath room. Her long silver hair was in a bun and she had a dress on with purple flowers on it. "Girls your going to be late lets go!" The old woman said to them. "Yes grams." Ash said back and jade stuck her tongue out at grams. They got in there school uniforms on and went to the kitchen. The kitchen was small but bright, The walls were yellow and the kitchen cupboards where white. Ash grabbed a banana and the car keys off the kitchen counter. Jade grabbed the keys from ash, "I don't think so I'm driving this time!" Jade said it with such force ash just glared at her. "Don't look at me like that, I can't afford another ticket." Jade walked out the of the kitchen with ash at her heels. They walked in to the family room and froze. Grams was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her Blood. Ash screamed. Then Two boys walk in the ajar door. Ash screams again. Shock ran across there faces when ash screamed then they looked at the body on the floor. But before they could say anything Ash demanded from them, "Why? What did she ever do to you?" "We didn't." One of the boys said he was about sixteen and had dirty blonde hair that was curly and gold eyes. "Yeah you've got it all wrong." The other boy said. He was about 17, He had hair like raven feathers and eyes like green emeralds. Something hit Ash and fell to the floor. "What the...?" ash picked it up. It was a small box and it was ticking. The boy with gold hair grabbed the box and threw it in the hall way. BOOM!!! The explosion went everywhere in the small apartment building. When ash opened her eyes she didn't no what to say. Everywhere in the apartment was burned except where they were standing. The boy with raven feather hair had his hands up like he was creating a shield. Had he? "What just happened and who are you guys?" Jade asked. "It looks like a bomb and I am Dani Martin and this( he waved a hand to the boy with raven black hair )is Blake Night." Dani said. "What are you doing here?" Ash asked them. "We came here for you guys." Blake said moving closer to Jade. "What do you want with us?" Jade gave Blake one of her deadly glares. He didn't seem to notice. "We need your help." Dani said. "With what?" Jade didn't look away from blacks eyes. "We can't say here your going to have to come with us." Blake said to ash and jade but only looked at jade. "And what if we don't want to?" Jade said moving closer to Blake. "Who said you had a say in it?" Blake said as he blow purple powder in Ash's and Jades face. Then everything went black....

how each text is foregrounded by deviation and parallelism!can u help? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

What did you get for Christmas?? What did you get for christmas?? Heres what I got: a jade necklace sterling silver earrings super soft bath robe rebok shirt $110 a whitecoat tons of chocolate a makeup bag lip gloss cheek shimmer a magazine subscription to some magazine i never heard of a book subscription (?) socks energy lotion a bath scrub Name EVERYTHING you got! Best answer will get 10 points!

foregrounding in poetry-where can u find deviation or parallelisim in this? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. G The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Does this sound interesting to you? It's long -- but , i'll add more if you like it. History Dylan’s eyes glistened the way they always did when he seen his one year old son Adam. His face his eyes, it made him feel welcome just to know that he was a part of him. That Adam shared both him and the woman he loved more than anything. How could there be a more perfect child? He loved them both, although he was seventeen and she was sixteen it didn’t matter. Why should it all matter? It wasn’t important -- no, it wasn’t. He was young and had more life and love than most people over seventy bragged over. Yes, he was foolish of course he was but what man at any age can claim not to be. Dylan was seventeen but he also had something else on his hands something that no ordinary eighty year old man could even consider as real let alone experience. He had fangs, not some crazy deformity from birth well it could be it all depends on how you analyze the situation, but Dylan had fangs because he was a vampire. Dylan had more challenges than that just connecting him too a world which should not exist, But who can really say what should be real? Who can judge what is normal and not When so many different creatures do exist, alone and forgotten. Dylan had family, and as explained they do not compare yes they are connected to that unexplainable world and some dig deeper and are a whole new creature on there own. Although Dylan’s family fit in very well they had money good looks, friends, and charm. The last thing on his families mind was not fitting in. Who cared about that most of them were grown up and in love. His father and mother included, although His mother loved his father deeply it was a one ended arrangement and Harvon was Re-married to another woman, Misty. His mother Harriot had been in other non-successful marriages but only one produced the satisfaction of love. Dylan had what he expressed as an uncountable amount of siblings. There was Selena who was twenty-eight, married and had two wonderful young children. Selena was a very intelligent clothing designer for a New York company which played a crucial role in the Design industry. Caitlin the most happily married of the children, although it didn’t always seem that way, she was twenty six years old and married to Riann James. Riann and Caitlin had four young children who were the most blessed miracle. Jessie and Jade were the twins wild, crazy and known for excessive travelling. Jessie settled down in New York City, with her husband Ian and their daughter Abbigail. Jade resides in Australia with his wife and baby. And then there’s Jamie. Jamie is only twenty years old, he has two lovely children and a wife named Lorrie. Jamie is a very talented surgeon. Dylan is the youngest of his family until Misty has her baby, the surprise that they all have to deal with. The official joining of two families, these days marriage is hardly the sealing of the deal. Although Dylan knew deep in his heart that for him, marriage would be everything how can people separate. How can people out there leave there children? It just didn’t make sense, it never would. How do people spend years together touching them as if the world depended on hearing there voice, on the touch, seeing them fall asleep. How could any one in there right mind leave a family that they had built upon for any length of time. This world is corrupt, and unjust. One thing that Dylan was for sure of he was in love with primrose, and he loved his friends more than anything in the world. His what? One friend, Donald Bass was his step brother. Dylan loved him as though he was his own brother. Possibly more, Don was the one person that Dylan could see and not be jealous of, not because he was better. No, just because he loved him. Don was just there, he hadn’t always been although Dylan wished he had been. Don was one of the most precious and meaningful things that Dylan had ever been blessed with. How many people are given the chance to live with there best friend? How many guys could just look at there best friend and be reassured that he was loved. Yes, he knew that he was sometimes he was out of place and mean. Although if Donald only knew that when Dylan got sad, or down sometimes he just snuck into his room and watched him. Never for long, and never letting him see that he was watching. That didn’t change the feeling. Yes, Dylan loved many people in many different ways His siblings for being there, his parents unconditionally and the heart stealing, emotion burning love for his girlfriend and child, the love for don which almost compared on the scale of Primrose. And that was saying something strong. The day had passed without any consideration for the fact that he was at school or learning. Dylan was one of the Most straight A students, and took all advanced courses. It amazed people that he was so smart, everything just came to him. Dylan was going to a very high quality private school and was what middle class would consider as “Elite”. He was part of one of the most craved, and envied society. People wondered how Dylan could even be considered normal. Dylan was as known everything but normal. As he stared into space at the ceiling of the dim lighted cafeteria which was designed with divine British taste, he wondered what a cafeteria needed leather sofas at a wall, and gallery art work presented around the room for. Dylan assumed it was the schools way to say that they meant business. There was a lounge for students, although none of them recognized it as good enough after all they were rich. The lounge had a deep almost mahogany wood flooring, and the walls were covered with paintings that didn’t seem to belong in a school, with a fire place and books for leisure close by, also there was a pool table, and almost invisible among the artwork Plasma television. Strangely enough as Dylan walked through the oak doors to the lounge many young men and women were gossiping and moping around. He never understood why the rich always seemed unhappy although with great acting accomplishments to the outsider would seem as though they had one a much awaited prize. Dylan sighed and went over to a couch sitting next to a couple of girls talking about how this girl in his English class Becky? Was it Becky? Was pregnant and going for an abortion and then for help. Dylan cringed trying not to think of attacking the girls. Gossip was worse enough without talking about killing children and spreading mean rumors. His mind was filled with the thought of Adams smiles, and Rosie’s beautiful face, he wished he could break out of this school and go see primrose, although she was also attending school, public school and he doubted that she enjoyed two hours of lunch breaks, since she was given forty. His mind continued wondering he had to work later, why again. His father was teaching him good values and he was accepting the task hands on. Suddenly Dylan had a new thought and an urge, he grabbed his leather bag and bolted. Knowing that there was over an hour left of lunch. Dylan ran out of the school and hopped in a cab. Dylan sat in a little café by himself and he silently walked around his mind again, more alone. Dylan reflected on when he grew up, when it all began. Dylan thought about his past about California when he Was little, he missed California some times but Don seemed to insist that they lived in New York. Where Dylan’s friend didn’t live, well the ones besides Donald and Primrose he wished that he was in California. He thought about running through the field near his manor, where he could play for hours, he thought about the shores and swimming. He loved to run around those fields picking wild roses, and flowers. He enjoyed California so much, the bustling city and the movie stars. How he missed it there. And that was where Dylan was going.. He was going to California. Dylan got into another cab and quickly was sped off to the airport. Was he insane? Of course he was.. he’d always been that was such an understatement. Dylan bought plane tickets for the first flight that led to Los Angeles. He knew he’s be in a lot of trouble, at school and with his father. Although Dylan knew if he lived with his mother Harriot it wouldn’t be a problem, actually his mother did live in California that would be his savoir Dylan was going to go to his mothers. Just for a few weeks. He thought about how Rose would feel as he boarded the plane. He knew that she would think that he was just avoiding her. It may seem that way but he would never. Dylan loved primrose more than anything in the world, more than life. Dylan loved plane rides, endless thinking time he loved to be alone and thinking. He always did, always. Thoughts raced everything from his breakfast and school to what he was going to do at his mothers for two weeks. As Dylan endlessly thought he fell asleep. *** Dylan awoke to the sound of the captain asking every one to put on there seat belts. As he brought himself back to consciousness he stared out the window at the fast approaching ground. Dylan loved the outdoors and walking out of that airport and catching the California air was a feeling he could not describe as anything else but pure bliss. The car rental office was barely five minutes away by walking and he ran down to the doors. It took all but five minutes to rent a Porsche and Dylan set off down the road driving as far as the speed limit would allow him. The drive was the perfect opportunity to reflect on the life that he would be stepping back into for a few weeks. He would have his father send him his school work, it would be so easy to keep up, after all homework was a fifteen minute job. Dylan drove to his mothers with only his darling girlfriend on his mind. His mother greeted him with the warmest and most welcoming hug that Dylan had received in ages. “Dylan! Oh my god – why are you in California? Does your dad know?” She practically screamed at him in joy and shock. “Whoa mom, calm down naw I’ll tell dad later, and I was just kind if bored.” “ you came to California because you were bored! It’s a school day!” “Yeah, I’m gonna take a little break from school and stay here for two weeks, if I can.” “Well Dylan, if you’ve thought it through, then of course you may.” “Kay, I’m going to go up to my room mom.” “Mm hmm” Dylan rushed up to his child hood bedroom where he had spent his more childhood years. It had barely changed. The bed still had a blue and black soft blanket on top with five mega pillows, the couch was still black, and his television still had many DVD’s scattered on the top of it. This was home, his home. He reached for his phone the one refuge that the room still held as an attraction. He dialled carefully making sure not to miss a number. 1-293-555-3489 And as Dylan hoped Brady picked up. “Uh, hello?” Dylan hesitated for a moment before answering. “uh, hey Brady?It’s your old best friend? You know Dylan?” “Oh, my god! Are you serious Dylan I haven’t seen you in years and years! How are you doing man?” “oh, I’m good as you know I live in New York City. “Yeah, okay dude.. you know where I live same old come visit me tomorrow, like – ten am kay?” “Yeah, of course see you then.” After seventy minutes of pointless catching up the phone was hung up and Dylan went into his bathroom. The plane ride had really messed with him.

Devices of Foregrounding-deviation and parallelism--what r they in here!? William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18 Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. g Oscar Wilde's novel the Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 1 – ‘the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses’. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

can u find literary techniques or devices,,,such as Tone= mood,Diction,Irony,Theme,Structure,Style=metre,rhthm or Tone= mood,Diction,Irony,Theme,Structure,Style=metre,rhthm=repetition,Metaphor = magery=personification,assossance,alliteration Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, a And summer's lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, c And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; d And every fair from fair sometime declines, c By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; d But thy eternal summer shall not fade e Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; f Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, e When in eternal lines to time thou growest: f So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, g So long lives this and this gives life to thee. G The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

Oscar Wilde's novel The Picture of Dorian Gray chapter 1? do u know whats the (imagery, rhyme,meter, theme, mood, and tone) in this text The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. "It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done," said Lord Henry languidly. "You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place."