Interogation

"I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote-bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant-the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me-to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun."



Description of this place, tells the reader that the describer, greatly misses somewhere, because she gives so much detail. She tells of the most memorable familiarities she can, because she's not only trying to picture them, but also because she doesn't want to lose those memories. Being in a new place, often heightens the senses to old and loved things, one is deprived of. Here, Bella, is deprived of the sun, and her childhood memories of her Phoenix home, of which she dearly loves and misses.

Anger

     "At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose-he was much taller than I'd thought-his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.
     "I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my dear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency."


I can relate to Bella when she talks about her anger triggering  her tears, because I have the same problem. When I get in a scrap with my mom or sister, I usually stalk off up to my room, and cry. It IS embarrassing, especially if one of my family members sees or knows that I'm upstairs bawling, but I don't ever directly tell them, "Hey, I was bawling." I think it is also humorous, because it makes one look like a spoiled brat, even though it really is inevitable.

The Aeneid

"Then Juno in all her power, filled with pity
for Dido's agonizing death, her labor long and hard,
sped Iris down from Olympus to release her spirit
wrestling now in a deathlock with her limbs.
Since she was dying a death not fated or deserved,
no, tormented, before her day, in a blaze of passion--
Proserpina had yet to pluck a golden lock from her head
and commit her life to the Styx and the dark world below.
So Iris, glistening dew, comes skimming down from the sky
on gilded wings, trailing showers of iridescence shimmering
into the sun, and hovering over Dido's head declares:
"So commanded, I take this lock as a sacred gift
to the God of Death, and I release you from your body."

With that, she cut the lock with her hand and all at once
the warmth slipped away, the life dissolved in the winds."


The end of Book four, has a poetic device that is interesting, when deciphered. "Labor long," is a use of alliteration, and could mean a number of possibilities. It could mean that Dido, suffered trying to stay alive, or that she suffered in trying to kill herself. One is never really willing to purposefully kill oneself, so, her labor in deciding to go through with it, must have been long, difficult, and ominous.