And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door,—the lady, or the tiger?

hich is the stronger emotion: love or jealousy? Do you think love or jealousy is a stronger emotion for the princess? Why?

semi-barbaric princess

What are some characteristics of the princess?

and the princess hated he

king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events,

CONFLICT: What is the young man accused of?

This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved him with an ardo

Is the king’s method of administering justice fair

y, the most suitable to his years and station that his majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this lady he was immediately married

The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people

had become semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.

. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done

He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done

a semi-barbaric king,

So?""So, what?""So, why not here?"

There was once a girl-""How old was she?""I don't know. She was young.""This ends with a marriage, right?"

Stuff it, Mister Nosy Parker. Nobody asked you to stick in your oar, or whatever you want to call that thing. This is between the two of us. Go on."

Good and wicked. Don't you think you should transcend those puritanical judgmental moralistic epithets? I mean, so much of that is conditioning, isn't it?"

Sounds to me like you don't want to hear this story at all."

Everything is about you."

"You know. Black, white, red, brown, yellow. Those are the choices. And I'm telling you right now, I've had enough of white. Dominant culture this, dominant culture that-"

Poor is relative. She lived in a house, didn't she?""Yes.""Then socio-economically speaking, she was not poor.""But none of the money was hers! The whole point of the story is that the wicked stepmother makes her wear old clothes and sleep in the fireplace-""Aha! They had a fireplace! With poor, let me tell you, there's no fireplace. Come down to the park, come to the subway stations after dark, come down to where they sleep in cardboard boxes, and I'll show you poor!""There was once a middle-class girl, as beautiful as she was good-""Stop right there. I think we can cut the beautiful, don't you? Women these days have to deal with too many intimidating physical role models as it is, what with those bimbos in the ads. Can't you make her, well, more average?"

house in the suburbs."

Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks! here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!”

His eye would trouble me no more.

It was open—wide, wide open—and I grew furious as I gazed upon it.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out—“Who's there?”

every night just at midnight

Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this,

observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease — of the joy that kills

Louise

Often she had not

She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.

She would have no one follow her.

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.

A metallic voice called to him:

not once in all that time.

"Hello, in there," he whispered to every house on every side as he moved. "What's up tonight on Channel 4, Channel 7, Channel 9? Where are the cowboys rushing, and do I see the United States Cavalry over the next hill to the rescue?"

whisperings and murmurs where a window in a tomblike building was still open.

he was alone in this world of A.D. 2053

To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o'clock of a misty evening in November, to put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in pockets, through the silences,