Phượng Tù Hoàng - Tập 2 tải xuống LIT miễn phí

Alexandra Mihaiu alexandramb7ed — The first poem I read of Maya Angelou was in Global Literature in 10th grade, when we read "Phenomenal Woman." The powerful literary devices used, especially repetition, made it one of my favorite poems. I was happy when I saw the same poem in this collection of Angelou's poems. The book contains poems on a variety of topics, but I believe Angelou is a feminist writer, and therefore writes poems empowering women. She also includes unforgettable poems that rhyme, deal with past family issues, and capture the ongoing problems of society.

Shaahid Kara _haahid — Wow. There is nothing else to say. Read this book.

Piero Beghi pierobeghi — By the time I opened this volume I knew better than to expect an intellectual poly-sci-fi story. This is meant to be light parody, full of the most obvious portrayals of superhero stereotypes and comic cheesiness. Volume 2 gets interesting once Ellis introduces one of Marvel's most dangerous, all-but-forgotten supervillians: ForBush Man. That's right. He's short and unthreatening to look at, but when he pulls the saucepan off his head and unleashes his power, the whole Nextwave team (or at least all of the members with some level of intelligence, human or not) sees the world through ForBush vision. This was the most fun section of the series for me, and not just because of the shaky connection with George W. Bush's ideologies.

Marie Pylypets _ol_pse — I really though this novel was one of the most touching and sad things I think I have ever read. I will definitely read it again in the future. I also watched the movie, and cried through over half of it. I'm not terribly much of a crier to begin with, so that's a lot. I cried through at least a quarter of the book. It's that kind of story. At this point I'm just going to excerpt a piece of the CCLaP review: So why read this wrist-slasher of a novel to begin with, you might be asking at this point? Well, that's a very good question, in fact, a challenge that McCarthy throws right in your face from the very start, and for the first 50 pages doesn't seem to have much more of an answer than, "Because it won the freaking Pulitzer and made Oprah's freaking panties wet, so how freaking bad could it be?" And indeed, it can get pretty freaking bad, at least before getting used to the deliberately slow pace and deliberately grim outlook -- an utterly unreadable downer, it might seem to many at first, with there being no point in even finishing except maybe to get that final motivation needed to stick your head in a gas oven. Ultimately, though, it's brilliant of McCarthy to do this, simply brilliant I'm telling you, because it's the same central question faced by our protagonist and his son in The Road, with they as unequipped to provide the answer as we are; that in a world most likely destined to snuff itself out and soon, why bother putting in the work to even survive, much less in a way that even hints at what we traditionally call "human ethics?" In a world where even plants can no longer grow, where even the sun no longer shines, when most people laugh at the mere suggestion of God existing, what's the point of even struggling to stay alive? It's a question that has haunted humans in lesser situations throughout history, from Auschwitz in the '30s to New Orleans just a few years ago; as mentioned, here McCarthy is simply pushing the question to its logical extreme, asking it in a situation where there is literally almost nothing left to dream towards or hope for, not even the dream of a heaven or other faith-based afterlife, because of most people having no sense of faith left. And the answer, McCarthy seems to be saying in The Road, seems to be the extremely simple one of, "Well, that's what humanity does. It hopes for a better future. That's what human beings do."