In the play A Streetcar Named Desire written by Tennessee Williams, Blanche DuBois is portrayed to be both the victim and victimizer of the play depending on how you sympathize with her. After reading the play though, it is clear that she is the victim. Blanche grew up in a middle-class family but she lives her life filled with luxuries and fancy looking clothes. Losing a loved one .

Individualism and Dead Poets Society. Dead Poets Society and Walt Whitman. Individualism is a great thing and should be celebrated by all. Changed the style of American literature. His world renowned anthology of poems changed the way people think. Throughout his life, he produced one major work, Leaves of Grass. On the first day at school, Mr.

8220;Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties. They each embody something of Whitman, but in some of the characters they have a greater showing of a single trait. He is a man that wa.

My name is Erica Kathryn and I am a junior in high school. In my opinion, I am a very complex person. I am one of those people that may seem happy on the outside, but am falling apart on the inside. I have a strong tendency to push myself very to hard. When this happens I will often get stressed out or down on myself. Any questions, feel free to ask! March 9, 2009.

She is insecure and dislocated, dainty and frail. Blanche is in a constant panic about her aging and fading beauty. Blanche seems snobby but really just tries to make herself seem attractive. She feeds for compliments from men. Blanche uses men in all sorts of ways for both emotional and sexual pleasure.

Written by Arthur Miller, the three main concepts are identity, apology, and forgiveness. Throughout the play, we constantly hear about these concepts. They make the play come alive and without them, there would be no real feelings or emotions in the entire play. The characters want to be themselves and keep their identity. Because I cannot have another in my life! Seems to have lost their i.

The smell of the constant burning wood wafting through the Botswana desert air seemed to fill my nostrils perpetually. The family gathered behind the rusty fence in front of the animal waiting for its demise. The cow seemed so indifferent and clueless about what was to become of it in the next few short minutes.