A Traditional FINAL
Quote Significance: Identify & Analyze What You Have Read
Choose five (5) quotes from the list below and describe in detail the significance of the quoted material. Do not summarize the text. In each detailed explanation, you must provide the full title of the text the quote comes from and the correctly spelled first and last name of the author who wrote the text. When explaining the importance of the quote, be sure to express how the excerpt represents the text it comes from as a whole—as well as the significance of the quote itself. You could connect the quote to any of the big ideas we have discussed in class be it historical or cultural or other—and, of course, explain what the quote means to you, in your own words. You might also connect your analysis to concepts you have learned about in other classes (like history! or psychology!). You may use any of the materials from class like your textbook or the videos I have uploaded to the weekly Lessons folders in Blackboard. Your goal here is analysis, not summary. Please remember to explain why and how—not simply what.
(Aim for about 200 words per response, minimum.)
- Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class / and cut it up / so everyone could taste / a Chinese apple. Knowing / it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat / but watched the other faces.
- The general remembers the tiny green sprigs / men of his village wore in their capes / to honor the birth of a son. He will / order many, this time, to be killed / for a single, beautiful word.
- It was a sad looking place, which for many years had not known the gentle presence of a mistress, old Monsieur Aubigny having married and buried his wife in France, and she having loved her own land too well ever to leave it. . . . Young Aubigny’s rule was a strict one, too, and under it his negroes had forgotten how to be gay, as they had been during the old master’s easygoing and indulgent lifetime.
- Tú o Nadie. Somehow one ought to live one’s life like that, don’t you think? You or no one. Because to suffer for love is good. The pain all sweet somehow. In the end.
- It was a wife’s worst nightmare.
- We cannot speak an R— / out of the swamp, the cane appears / and then the mountain we call in whispers Katalina. / The children gnaw their teeth to arrowheads. / There is a parrot imitating spring. / El General has found his word: perejil. / Who says it, lives.
- “It means,” he answered lightly, “that the child is not white; it means that you are not white.”
- Once, years back, I walked beside my father / among the windfall pears. I can’t recall / our words. We may have strolled in silence. But / I still see him bend that way-left hand braced / on knee, creaky-to lift and hold to my / eye a rotten pear. In it, a hornet / spun crazily, glazed in slow, glistening juice.
- Somehow this husband whose whiskers she finds each morning in the sink, whose shoes she must air each evening on the porch, this husband who cuts his fingernails in public, laughs loudly, curses like a man, and demands each course of dinner be served on a separate plate like at his mother’s, as soon as he gets home, on time or late, and who doesn’t care at all for music or telenovelas or romance or roses or the moon floating pearly over the arroyo, or through the bedroom window for that matter, shut the blinds and go back to sleep, this man, this father, this rival, this keeper, this lord, this master, this husband till kingdom come.
- He was silent. “What does it mean?” “What?” “That word. ‘Sexy.’ What does it mean?” He looked down, suddenly shy. “I can’t tell you.”
- [I]t was part of an old letter from his mother to his father. He read it. She was thanking God for the blessing of her husband’s love:— “But, above all,” she wrote, “night and day, I thank the good God for having so arranged our lives that our dear Armand will never know that his mother, who adores him, belongs to the race that is cursed with the brand of slavery.”
- White rice steaming, almost done. Sweet green peas / fried in onions. Shrimp braised in sesame / oil and garlic. And my own loneliness. / What more could I, a young man, want.
- “Very spicy,” the man said, shaking his head, his eyes traveling across Miranda’s body. “Too spicy for you.”