eBooks „mire“
9 eBooks were found for the search term „mire“.
Books (9)
Isabella Mire
mypaperhelp
mypaperhelp
- Law
- English
- 524 Words
- Ages 16 and up
- 23
Hello! I am the writer Isabella Mire, and today I wish to introduce a gem that has remained obscured in the vast world of academic assistance. Throughout my years immersed in literature and the art of storytelling, I have had the privilege to cross paths with several tools and platforms designed for budding authors and diligent students. Yet, among this extensive list, one particular service has managed to capture my attention, establishing itself as a beacon for students requiring essay support. Let me delve a bit deeper without unveiling its exact name, for I believe in the joy of discovery. [more]
Keywords: Mire
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Kaylee
It Was A Dark Night...~Love Story~
- Romance
- English
- 2004 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 442
- 2
Focused On Her Career, Sommer Never really thought about love, She grew up abondonded and alone, Her parents were brutely Murdered when She was a mire child,
Twenty-Two Year old Sommer thought that she would never fall in love, Especially with his species. [more]
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ANNA BISHOP SCOFIELD
INSIGHTS AND HERESIES PERTAINING TO THE EVOLUTION OF THE SOUL
- Philosophy
- English
- 38931 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
There is no new revelation to be given to man; there is no need of it. Those who have labored most strenuously to evolve from their inner consciousness a new, a better religion, have found themselves bogged in the mire of their egotism which has landed them in a police court, or they have been confronted by exactly the same problems as those from which they have sought to escape. [more]
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ANNA BISHOP SCOFIELD
INSIGHTS AND HERESIES PERTAINING TO THE EVOLUTION OF THE SOUL
- Philosophy
- English
- 38511 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
There is no new revelation to be given to man; there is no need of it. Those who have labored most strenuously to evolve from their inner consciousness a new, a better religion, have found themselves bogged in the mire of their egotism which has landed them in a police court, or they have been confronted by exactly the same problems as those from which they have sought to escape. [more]
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George Meredith
The Egoist
- Drama
- English
- 191558 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
Comedy Is A Game Played to Throw Reflections Upon Social Life, And It
Deals With Human Nature In the Drawing-Room Of civilized men And Women,
Where We Have No Dust Of the Struggling Outer World, No Mire, No
Violent Crashes, To Make The Correctness Of the Representation
Convincing. Credulity Is Not Wooed through The Impressionable Senses;
Nor Have We Recourse To The Small Circular Glow Of the Watchmaker'S Eye
To Raise In bright Relief Minutest Grains Of evidence For The Routing
Of Incredulity. The Comic Spirit Conceives A Definite Situation For A
Number Of characters, And Rejects All Accessories In the Exclusive
Pursuit Of them And Their Speech. For Being A Spirit, He Hunts The
Spirit In men; Vision And Ardour Constitute His Merit; He Has Not A
Thought Of persuading You To Believe In him. Follow And You Will See.
But There Is A Question Of the Value Of a Run At His Heels. [more]
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Various Various
The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 79, May, 1864
- History
- English
- 83059 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
"A correspondent, who writes himself Peter Ball, or Bell,--for his
hand-writing is as ragged as his manners,--admonishes me of the old
saying, that some people (under a courteous periphrasis I slur his less
ceremonious epithet) had need have good memories. In my 'Old Benchers of
the Inner Temple,' I have delivered myself, and truly, a Templar born.
Bell clamors upon this, and thinketh that he hath caught a fox. It seems
that in a former paper, retorting upon a weekly scribbler who had called
my good identity in question, (see P.S. to my 'Chapter on Ears,') I
profess myself a native of some spot near Cavendish Square, deducing my
remoter origin from Italy. But who does not see, except this tinkling
cymbal, that in that idle fiction of Genoese ancestry I was answering a
fool according to his folly,--that Elia there expresseth himself
ironically, as to an approved slanderer, who hath no right to the truth,
and can be no fit recipient of it? Such a one it is usual to leave to
his delusions,--or, leading him from error still to contradictory error,
to plunge him (as we say) deeper in the mire, and give him line till he
suspend himself. No understanding reader could be imposed upon by such
obvious rodomontade to suspect me for an alien, or believe me other than
English. [more]
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Various Various
The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 12, No. 72, October, 1863
- History
- English
- 86352 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
"A correspondent, who writes himself Peter Ball, or Bell,--for his
hand-writing is as ragged as his manners,--admonishes me of the old
saying, that some people (under a courteous periphrasis I slur his less
ceremonious epithet) had need have good memories. In my 'Old Benchers of
the Inner Temple,' I have delivered myself, and truly, a Templar born.
Bell clamors upon this, and thinketh that he hath caught a fox. It seems
that in a former paper, retorting upon a weekly scribbler who had called
my good identity in question, (see P.S. to my 'Chapter on Ears,') I
profess myself a native of some spot near Cavendish Square, deducing my
remoter origin from Italy. But who does not see, except this tinkling
cymbal, that in that idle fiction of Genoese ancestry I was answering a
fool according to his folly,--that Elia there expresseth himself
ironically, as to an approved slanderer, who hath no right to the truth,
and can be no fit recipient of it? Such a one it is usual to leave to
his delusions,--or, leading him from error still to contradictory error,
to plunge him (as we say) deeper in the mire, and give him line till he
suspend himself. No understanding reader could be imposed upon by such
obvious rodomontade to suspect me for an alien, or believe me other than
English. [more]
For Free
BS Murthy
Sundara Kãnda: Hanuman's Odyssey
- Religion
- English
- 40926 Words
- Ages 16 and up
- 693
- 3
WhileMahabharata's Bhagvad-Gita is taken as a philosophical guide, Ramayana's Sundara Kãnda is sought for spiritual solace; many believe that reading Sundara Kãnda or hearing it recited would remove all hurdles and usher in good tidings!
Miracles apart, it's in the nature of Sundara Kãnda to inculcate fortitude and generate hope in man for it’s a depiction of how Hanuman goes about his errand against all odds.
Besides, it portrays how Seetha, on the verge of self-immolation, overcomes despair to see life in a new light?
With rhythm of its verse and the flow of the narrative this sloka to sloka transcreation of the canto beautiful of Valmiki's adi kavya - the foremost poetical composition in the world, Hanuman's Odyssey that paves the way for Rama to rescue his kidnapped wife is bound to charm the readers and listeners alike.
Interestingly, as the following verse illustrates, it was the forerunner of the magic realism of our times – “Gripped she then him by shadow / Cast which Hanuman coast to coast, Recalled he in dismay then / What Sugreev said at outset / That one fiend had aptitude / To grip its prey by mere shadow.”
On a personal note, my paternal grandfather, Bulusu Thimmaiah-garu, like many in his time, was a life-long practitioner of Sundara Kãnda parayana (the epic’s daily recital in part or full), whose spirituality could have providentially guided me in this, rather an effortless, trans-creative endeavour.
Cantos of the Kanda
1 - Hurdles in Skies
2 - City in Clouds
3 - Prelude to Entry
4 - Foray into Fort
5 - Life in Lanka
6 - Precincts to Beat
7 - Palace in the Plane
8 - Pushpak’s Prowess
9 - Harem at Night
10 - Women in Want
11 - Qualms of Celibate
12 - At Wits End
13 - Errand in the Bend
14 - Garden of Grief
15 - Withered Flower
16 - She is Seetha
17 - Guards all Hideous
18 - Ravan on Heat
19 - Dame in Despair
20 - Womanizer at Work
21 - Steadfast in Love
22 - Deadline to Death
23 - Guards that Pander
24 - Carrot and Stick
25 - Hapless Soul
26 - Wandering Thoughts
27 - Dream of a Nightmare
28 - On the Verge
29 - Good Tidings
30 - Hanuman’s Dilemma
31 - Rama’s Ballad
32 - Is it True?
33 - Genesis of Exile
34 - Swings in Mood
35 - Winning the Trust
36 - More of the Same
37 - Aborted Move
38 - Story to Tell
39 - Doubts to the Fore
40 - Repeats the Dose
41 - Rampage in the Park
42 - Panic in the Town
43 -Itching for Fight
44 -Takes on Prahastha’s Son
45 - Marshals in the Mire
46 - Generals in the Dumps
47 - Akshay’s Life on Line
48 - It takes Indrajit
49 - Ravan’s Darbar
50 - Cause of Loss
51 - Advice to Deliver
52- Placates the Sibling
53 - Tail on Fire
54 - Arson to Hurt
55 - What of Seetha?
56 - Havoc of a Take-off
57 - Flight sans Hassles
58 - Odyssey in a Nutshell
59 - Pep Talk to Peers
60 - Angad on Rebound
61 - Eying the Madhuvan
62 - Orgy in the Garden
63 - Sugreev’s Reading
64 - Return of the Platoon
65 - News in Brief
66 - Tears in Torrents
67 - Hanuman’s Replay
68 - Times of Hope
Yuddha Kanda: War on Ravan
01- Embrace of a Gift
02- Coronation and After [more]
Keywords: Indian mythology, Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Rama's story, Lanka, Hanuman, Sita's captivity, Sanskrit Classics, Religion, Hinduism, Hindu mythology, Sanskrit epics, Hindu epics, Indian epics, Valmiki, Rama, Sita, Ravana, epic poetry, epic verse, epic Indian verse, epic Hindu verse, verse, Indian verse, Religion and Spirituality [more]
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Md Jahidul Islam, Robin it
Digital Marketing
Digital Marketing written by Md Jahidul Islam
- Drama
- English
- 3334 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 39
It is ironic that I am living. I am thirsty and the blood in my veins has got thicker; it can hardly crawl to all of me. I am losing control over my body; it is playing dead here and there. Perhaps, my soul is angry at my physical being; my body, and it wishes to leave forthwith. Alas! I must have done pretty badly to gods that they had me sent here; in the family of consciously fear-breathing peasants. They breath little and brisk; for they have forgotten the very idea of abundance. They are afraid that the air might just deplete away. Oh, I reckon! Their souls have been enslaved; chained to self-inflicted humiliation and convinced of being a low cast reptile. Oh God, why have you sent me here; my soul is nobler. I surpass their peasantry, Oh God, you have sent me wrongly! Qasim was cursing everything that he had inherited; the list was not long though. He was a bright young boy, who was smarter than other children of his age. It was 12 years ago when Qasim was pinned down in this damp hut of the poor slum. He had always thought that he had descended into this mire from much nobler heavens. May he had done some wrong that displeased gods, at least it was what Qasim believed. The slum included hundreds of poorly built huts and tents erected with rags and sticks. The fireplaces and stoves put in open near their lowly abodes. It seemed as if the world was inhabited by the people of different times; all at once in manifestation. Each age preserved by eternity for the purpose of record and realization. Though, the slum was notorious in one way, for in it lived the nomads of mountainous terrains. The slum was a century old and it was a legend, that they had their souls were in charge; they would break their bodies but would never bear to be belittled. They were ill known for their arrogance and stubbornness But the time passed, the newer generations grew fond of the ideas of comfort, luxury, and leisure. Sooner, the body manipulated and distracted to the very artifacts that its souls had warned about. The bodily form grew stronger and the arrogance receded. They had become aware of the soft silk, a full stomach, and sweet fragrance. So, they sold in the bits of their soul for chunks of luxury. Their souls seem now rather enchained. The slum was now inflated by the half-blood opportunists; half-blood was from their ancestors. By evening, they will gather and celebrate the holy feast of awakening. They would be baptized by the holy wine, to sedate their moaning souls. This was the epidemic that had struck the entire slum; save one. The one hut that remained was of Mukhtar Khan’s own; the father of Qasim. Mukhtar Khan was a hardworking man who would toil hard to get some bread with butter. He was a strong-headed man who would prefer to pet his soul rather than his body. But he had troubles at home; he could not bear to look at the hungry faces that he was responsible to feed. He carried it along while he went to work and more often had returned with the same burden; with added interest. Qasim, on the other hand, was still wondering why his father was such an arrogant man. He either does not find a job or loses it in a week or two; what a looser he had made of himself. Qasim could notice his neighborhood prospering and that the other children would buy clothes every summer, how lucky of them he would think. Qasim was upset and he would pity his fate and curse those who brought him into this mess. He always believed that his parents deserved it. One day, Mukhtar Khan returned home with the burden of unanswered responsibilities. He had not found any labor for wages, since past three days. The family had been waiting for some food since last night. He looked at the stove, which was desolated and seemed waiting to be lit for ages. Mukhtar Khan entered the hut and sat down in one corner and started weeping. Ghazala, Qasim’s mother, knew what had happened. She went over to her husband and comforted him. She would need to do it often with her empty stomach. She was indeed a strong lady who never complained. No one knew what dreams she had but the look in her eyes could possibly observe the very glare that could be seen over the sea when the sun is shining bright. Qasim, who was watching all this, angrily ran out of the hut. He was sobbing miserably and cursing everything that he knew existed. Back in the hut, Mukhtar Khan had started crying loudly. He complained to gods in between the sobs and said; “How god, how must I stand tall if you drag the very land that I step upon. Forgive me, for I can bear it no more. I am thirsty and my blood is getting thicker, it hardly crawls to all of me. Oh God, help me for I can not resist selling my honor for a loaf of bread and some wine to keep my blood running.” Ghazala was comforting him while a tear or two dropped down his cheeks which she immediately wiped off. She did not wish to add on to the poor man’s plight. Mukhtar Khan after a while of sobbing and crying said; “perhaps, I [more]
Keywords: Digital Marketing, Digital Marketing written by Md Jahidul Islam
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