The History of the Singer Sewing Machine - 1404 Words

| The Singer Sewing Machine | Historical Project Research | | Sarah Clark | 9/12/2010 | Engineering 1000 Instructor: Dr. Tzu-Yu Wang | The sewing machine is basically a textile machine. It is used for stitching together things such as fabric, paper, card, or other material with some type of thread. The sewing machine needed to be something that was functional and compact. It would need to be something that was simple to use and be able to sew faster and more efficiently then hand sewing was. Up until the time that the sewing machine was invented, women would spend great amounts of time sewing. Women would have to hand sew everything, clothing for themselves and their families as well as household items. Women†¦show more content†¦Some of those factors include needle type, thread type, what type of stitch it produces, some sort of device to form the specific stitch, and it had to have some type of support for the cloth. There also had to be a mechanism to allow one stitch to follow the previous one, a tension control and something to make sure the sewing machine did what it needed to in the correct sequence without error. Although engineering disciplines were not as defined as they are today. Several disciplines were involved in the creation of the sewing machine. Mechanical engineering was involved in the creation of the mechanical parts used to make the sewing machine do its job. Some sewing machines used a type of pulley system to function; textile engineers designed the rope used in this pulley system. Metallurgical engineers were involved in the process of developing the cast iron used for the sewing machine itself as well as the decorative legs on home sewing machines. In addition, once electricity was introduced, electrical engineers were used to create the wiring system. The sewing machine greatly changed the way our society functions. Without the sewing machine, the world would be a very different place. Like the car, the cotton gin and countless other innovations from the past 300 years, the sewing machine takes something time-consuming and laborious and makes itShow More RelatedThe Impact of the Invention of the Sewing Machine on America Essay1288 Words   |  6 Pagesof the Sewing Machine on America The large number of practical and useful inventions brought forward during the time leading up to and including the period known as the Industrial Revolution had a significant impact on both American society and the world. The transition that took place resulted in reliance on mechanical sources of power/energy rather than the traditional human or animal sources to produce the products needed (Hackett, 1992). 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India s Foreign Policy Decision Making - 2203 Words

Introduction Being a land locked country surrounded by India and China, situated along the southern slopes of the Himalayas Nepal feels interference of India in her domestic politics and in foreign policy making which indicates determinants of her foreign policy are not amply helpful and capabilities of her foreign policy rather renders Nepal an absurd fear-psychosis position against India keeping her long away from world politics for hundreds of years. Her geo strategic location makes her vulnerable and dependent on India. Their foreign policy decision making pivots the two next door neighbors having geo political constraints. Given that there is China-preference in their sentiment, however, Nepal acts like a puppet in India’s hands in her decision making. Nepal is one of the best examples of being restrained by God given geo-demographic, geo-positional, socio-cultural realities. Albeit, Nepal succeeds in preservation of autonomy, protection of national sovereignty, territoriality, mainte nance of rule of laws, preservation of human rights and equality, building friendship with neighbors, bringing foreign currency to boost up economy and keeping rising position in the central Asia. Foreign Policy Choices of Nepal If we focus on the foreign policy choices of Nepal we find geographic interference in her policy making. If geographical realities are domestic compulsions, Sino-Indian relation is the most significant external outcome in the foreign policy of Nepal. The TibetShow MoreRelatedNarendra Modi : A Vision Of Reshaping Indian Economy1196 Words   |  5 Pagesits eyes set on the way Mr. Narendra Modi leads and governs India. But has he been able to live up to his trailer’s expectations? Let’s take a walk through his trailer – â€Å"the election campaign† andjudge for ourselves, â€Å"ache din aaengey ya nhi†. 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Night Creature Dark Moon Chapter Thirty Free Essays

â€Å"Let’s take this one day at a time,† Nic said. A good idea. Lord knew what tomorrow might bring. We will write a custom essay sample on Night Creature: Dark Moon Chapter Thirty or any similar topic only for you Order Now Nevertheless, I was disappointed. Where once sex with no strings hadn’t sounded bad, now it no longer sounded good. Nic lifted my tangled hair from my neck and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin at the curve. Or maybe it did. â€Å"For years I thought you were dead. Now I’m so scared you might end up that way, I can’t sleep at night.† Not exactly a declaration of everlasting love, but it was something. â€Å"I don’t kill easily,† I murmured. â€Å"Maybe I should sleep in here from now on.† His mouth drifted lower, hovering just above mine. â€Å"Maybe you should.† I lifted onto my toes and kissed him. He tasted both familiar and new, the past and the present in just one man. Everything I knew of sex and love, I’d learned from him. I wanted him now as I’d wanted him then, loved him the same, if not more. Could I hope again for a future only to have it snatched away? Was it better to dream the impossible than never to dream at all? Regardless of what tomorrow brought, we had tonight. I planned to make the most of every opportunity. Hooking my ankle around his, I tumbled us onto the bed. We fell in a heap of limbs and new clothes with me on top. Nic laughed, and I stared down into his face. â€Å"What?† His laughter faded, leaving a puzzled smile in its wake. â€Å"I haven’t heard you laugh like that since – † I broke off. â€Å"Stanford?† I shrugged. â€Å"I don’t laugh much anymore. Life without you hasn’t been very funny.† With me wasn’t going to be too ha-ha, either. He touched my cheek. â€Å"Stop.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"Thinking so much.† He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and tugged. â€Å"Come here.† I went gladly, touching my lips to his. But when I tried to deepen the kiss, he wouldn’t let me, instead making the embrace more tranquil than arousing, more gentle than passionate. That single kiss, which went on and on, moved me more than the sex ever had. â€Å"Elise!† Edward slammed the door, and I scrambled off Nic as if I were fifteen years old instead of twenty-nine. He appeared in the doorway, lifting his brows at the sight of my tangled hair and twisted sweater. I smelled smoke – he had taken care of the body in the woods – then his gaze went past me to Nic, and he grimaced before turning away. â€Å"Kitchen,† Edward snapped. I turned to see what had annoyed him this time and had to hide a smirk. Nic might have been kissing me gently, but he still had a hard-on that was clearly visible beneath his jeans. â€Å"If he thinks he’s going to force me out of town again,† Nic said, â€Å"I’m going to kick his bony ass, then shoot him. With silver, just to be sure.† I started to laugh, then I choked as a thought hit me, sending a nasty chill from head to toe. â€Å"Stay here,† I said, and followed Edward into the kitchen. He’d set a package on the table – my research, thank goodness. One less thing to worry about. On to the next. I crossed the room, hesitating as I neared him. Could I shoot Edward? He could certainly shoot me. I touched his arm. He jerked back, nearly knocking over a chair in his haste to get away. But it was enough. I glanced at Nic, who had followed despite my orders. When our eyes met, I shook my head and he lowered his hand from his weapon. I took comfort from the knowledge that he would have shot Edward if I couldn’t. â€Å"You thought I was bitten?† Edward asked. I shrugged. â€Å"Better safe than sorry. You have been acting odd lately.† â€Å"How can you tell?† Nic muttered, earning a glare from Edward. â€Å"I would shoot myself if I was infected.† â€Å"You know damn well if you were bitten you wouldn’t be you anymore,† I said, â€Å"you’d be them. Or us. Whatever.† â€Å"Don’t you have an antidote?† Nic asked. â€Å"Only if the victim is injected before the first change.† â€Å"A concoction that would be more useful,† Edward pointed out, â€Å"if it did not spoil within twenty-four hours of mixing it.† In that moment I understood that nothing I ever did would be enough for him. And suddenly, I didn’t really care. â€Å"Getting back to our present troubles,† Edward continued briskly. â€Å"I did not know this Basil Moore.† â€Å"Why would you know him?† Nic asked. â€Å"To be a traitor, to know some of the things our enemies now do, the culprit would have had to be one of us once.† â€Å"Rogue agent,† I supplied. â€Å"Once Jger-Suchers, until fired by Edward for inappropriate behavior.† â€Å"What kind of nutcase do you have to be to get ousted from a monster-hunting society?† â€Å"I have rules.† Edward sniffed. â€Å"If they are not followed, out you go. If you are lucky.† Unlucky people disappeared. Many former J-S agents were adrenaline junkies. They couldn’t give up the danger, or hold down a regular job, so they went hunting on their own. After searching out and destroying monsters most of mankind didn’t even know about, it was kind of hard to adjust to life as a librarian. â€Å"But since Basil was not one of us,† Edward reiterated, â€Å"he could not be a traitor, though he may have bought information from one who is.† â€Å"And now we’ll never know, because someone killed him,† I said. â€Å"A werewolf, not a someone,† Edward pointed out. â€Å"Now tell me what you have learned about witchie wolves.† Lydia’s book lay on the table. Nic picked it up and started paging through as I filled Edward in. â€Å"Have you spoken with Jessie’s lover?† Edward asked. â€Å"Why do you call him that? He has a name.† â€Å"What is it again?† I rolled my eyes. He knew damned well what Will’s name was. † ‘Witchie wolves sleep in the sun until ,’ † Nic read. Edward and I glanced at each other, then at Nic. â€Å"And what do they plan to do under the ?† I frowned. â€Å"What’s a ?† â€Å"I have never heard that term before,† Edward said. â€Å"We should really call Will.† â€Å"Wait.† Edward went into the hallway and came back with his briefcase. He pulled out an electronic device I’d never seen before. â€Å"Speaker phone?† Nic asked. â€Å"Of a kind. This is a prototype. Not only can those we call hear all of us, but it magnifies the other line so we can hear them.† Edward was provided with the latest technology from the U.S. government – usually double-nought spy stuff like this. â€Å"It will be easier to discuss the case, ja?† † Ja,† I said. â€Å"I mean yes.† Edward hooked the contraption to the phone line, then dialed Jessie’s number. â€Å"This had better be good,† she answered, the slur in her voice making me glance at my watch. midnight. Why was she asleep? â€Å"We need to have a conference,† Edward said. â€Å"Set the phone on a flat surface so we might hear both you and your – â€Å" He broke off, glanced at me, scowled and muttered, â€Å"Cadotte.† â€Å"My Cadotte? Well, he is kind of mine.† The phone clunked once. ‘Okay. Go ahead.† â€Å"How up-to-date are they?† Edward asked. â€Å"Werewolf in human form biting the dead, disappearing bodies, invisible ghost wolves – â€Å" â€Å"Whoa!† Jessie interrupted. â€Å"I never heard anything about ghost wolves.† The rustle of sheets preceded Will’s voice. â€Å"Are you talking about witchie wolves?† â€Å"We think so.† â€Å"They’re supposed to live – well, not live exactly, exist, I guess – on the shores of Lake Huron.† â€Å"Apparently they don’t know that, because they’re here.† â€Å"Fascinating,† he murmured. â€Å"Off he goes,† Jessie said. â€Å"Computer Boy to the rescue.† â€Å"Hold on, Will,† I ordered. â€Å"Have you ever heard of the ?† â€Å"No,† Will said. â€Å"Where did you hear it?† â€Å"In a book Lydia gave us. ‘Witchie wolves sleep in the sun until the .’ Mean anything?† â€Å"Not yet.† Sounds of a computer turning on, booting up, came over the line. This prototype phone was pretty cool. Tap-tap-tap. â€Å"There’s an Ojibwe expert on witchie wolves,† Will said. â€Å"He doesn’t live too far from here. He wrote a book.† Nic turned the cover so I could read the title. † Witchie Wolves of the Great Lakes by Raymond Banks?† â€Å"That’s the one. He’s very knowledgeable about obscure legends. I’ll head over and talk to him in the morning.† â€Å"Can’t you call him?† Jessie asked. â€Å"Send a fax? How about E-mail?† Will coughed. â€Å"He lives in a cave, doesn’t he?† â€Å"Wigwam.† â€Å"Same difference,† she said. â€Å"Why can’t your people step into the twenty-first century?† â€Å"Most of us did, and it wasn’t all that different from any other.† Silence ensued. I felt compelled to fill it, so I told them all we’d learned about the mystery in Fairhaven. â€Å"The witchie wolves come to power under the dark moon.† Will tapped on the computer some more. â€Å"Then their army rules all until the end of days.† â€Å"I always get nervous when the end of days comes up,† Jessie said. â€Å"Armageddon. Apocalypse.† Edward sighed. â€Å"I have thwarted a hundred of them.† â€Å"Let’s make it a hundred and one,† Nic said. â€Å"Another werewolf army,† Jessie muttered. â€Å"Can’t they find a new tune?† â€Å"Why?† I wondered. â€Å"When the old one plays so well.† â€Å"If the witchies are the brave new army,† Will continued, â€Å"you could be in big trouble if you don’t find out who plans to command them before the deed is done.† â€Å"We always are,† I said. â€Å"Whatever happened to the totem you found in Montana?† Everyone went silent. â€Å"It’s gone,† I said. â€Å"Not sure where.† Edward scowled. â€Å"I had pocket issues. Sue me.† â€Å"Let’s not worry about the totem now,† Will interjected. â€Å"You haven’t needed it since the first time.† Who knows? – maybe I hadn’t even needed the icon then. Nevertheless, I wished I had the thing in my possession or at least knew who did. But if wishes were horses, et cetera, et cetera. â€Å"I’ll talk to Mr. Banks in the morning.† â€Å"We’ll talk to him, Slick. Together.† â€Å"He may not speak freely with a stranger there.† â€Å"You’re a stranger.† â€Å"We’re of the same tribe. Never strangers.† â€Å"Whatever.† â€Å"You could head back,† Will suggested. â€Å"They might need you in Fairhaven.† â€Å"I’m not letting you traipse off alone to meet some guy we don’t even know. He could turn into anything. Sheesh, you think I’m an idiot?† I glanced at Nic to find him staring at the copy of the victims’ list we’d taken from the sheriff’s office. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about it. â€Å"We have a list of the victims,† I announced. â€Å"Why didn’t you say so?† Jessie asked. â€Å"Read them out. Will can probably find something.† Nic was already booting up Jessie’s laptop. He cracked his knuckles and winked at me. This sudden, yet familiar, lighter side of him was almost as fascinating as the darker, sexy side. â€Å"It’ll only take me a minute. You wouldn’t believe what the FBI can find out about people.† â€Å"I’d believe it,† Will muttered. Will had been an activist before he was a Jger-Sucher. His name was on a whole lot of watch lists. The FBI’s certainly. While Nic clattered away, I checked my research. Not only were my formulas and notes on a disc, but there was an emergency dose of serum, which was going to come in handy far too soon. I pocketed the vial, just as Nic murmured, â€Å"Hello.† â€Å"What?† Jessie, Will, and I asked at the same time. Edward merely waited. â€Å"All the people who’ve disappeared owned their own homes, businesses, or a plot of land in Fairhaven.† â€Å"Each victim owned a part of the town?† Jessie asked. â€Å"And they died for it. Why?† Nic typed in a few more words, then squinted, straightened, and said, â€Å"Uh-oh.† â€Å"What is ‘uh-oh’?† Edward demanded. â€Å"I hate ‘uh-oh.’ â€Å" â€Å"Fairhaven was built on top of an Ojibwe burial ground.† â€Å"There are more graves than the one where we found the sheriff and Cora?† I asked. â€Å"According to this, the greatest concentration of bodies is in a ravine right outside of town.† I’d been to that ravine, along with Lydia and Basil. Coincidence? Nah. From the glance Nic threw my way, he didn’t think much of the coincidence, either. â€Å"Why arc so many bodies buried there?† Nic murmured. â€Å"Because rather than bury them individually,† Will spat, â€Å"they tossed everyone into a hole. Much easier that way, and really, why spare the time for some Injuns?† â€Å"Massacre?† Jessie asked. â€Å"Probably.† Will sounded disgusted. I couldn’t blame him. â€Å"At least we know why the witchie wolves are here,† Will continued. â€Å"We do?† I glanced at Nic, who shrugged. â€Å"They protect the burial mounds of warriors from desecration.† â€Å"What desecration?† I asked. â€Å"I don’t see any turned-up earth or ancient bones dragged around.† â€Å"To buy their graves, to own the land – which isn’t for sale – is desecration enough.† â€Å"Everything’s for sale, Slick. Get used to it.† â€Å"You can’t buy the earth. Or purchase a bird, a stone, a tree.† â€Å"He gets like this sometimes,† Jessie muttered. â€Å"Give him a minute, he’ll find the right century.† â€Å"Building a Pizza-Rama, or a Super-Mart, or a Gas-and-Dough on someone’s grave†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Will paused. â€Å"They were just asking for it.† â€Å"Oh, yeah,† Jessie said. â€Å"Begging.† Will ignored her. â€Å"You’ve theorized that the bite of a werewolf in human form causes the dead to shift into ghost wolves.† He began to type again, talking at the same time. â€Å"The theory makes even more sense if the victims are doomed to protect that which they have desecrated.† â€Å"And the punishment shall fit the crime,† Nic murmured. â€Å"But if they’ve desecrated an Ojibwe burial ground, wouldn’t it follow that the murderer is – â€Å" â€Å"Ojibwe,† Will finished. â€Å"Well, yeah.† â€Å"We’re back to Lydia again,† I said. â€Å"Why would she give us a book on witchie wolves if she was raising them?† Nic asked. â€Å"The book is pretty vague.† â€Å"Ojibwe legends often are,† Will agreed. â€Å"Which is why the werewolves use them, Slick. They can easily manipulate vague into evil.† â€Å"Except Lydia isn’t a werewolf,† I felt compelled to point out. Silence settled over us, broken only by the clatter of Will’s fingers on the keyboard. â€Å"I can’t find anything concrete about the , but I’m betting it’s when the moon is darkest, or new. Since tomorrow night is the full moon, we’ll have two weeks before the witchie wolf army gains power.† â€Å"Then we’ve got plenty of time to figure out what they’re planning,† I said. â€Å"Who knows, we could even stumble over the werewolf tomorrow night, blow his brains out, and be home free.† Both Edward and Nic turned a bland gaze on me. â€Å"I know.† I sighed. â€Å"Like that’ll happen.† How to cite Night Creature: Dark Moon Chapter Thirty, Essay examples

Ethan Frome Fantasy is an Escape from Winter Essay Example For Students

Ethan Frome: Fantasy is an Escape from Winter Essay Ethan Frome, the title character of Edith Whartons tragic novel, lives in his own world of silence, where he replaces his scarcity of words with images and fantasies. There is striking symbolism in the imagery, predominantly that of winter which connotes frigidity, detachment, bleakness and seclusion. Twenty-eight year old Ethan feels trapped in his hometown of Starkfield, Massachusetts. He marries thirty-four year old Zeena after the death of his mother, in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the silence, isolation, and loneliness of life (Lawson 71). Several years after their marriage, cousin Mattie Silver is asked to relieve Zeena, a gaunt and sallow hypochondriac, of her household duties. Ethan finds himself falling in love with Mattie, drawn to her youthful energy, as, The pure air, and the long summer hours in the open, gave life and elasticity to Mattie (Wharton 60). Ethan is attracted to Mattie because she is the antithesis of Zeena. While Mattie is young, happy, healthy, and beautiful like the summer, Zeena is seven years older than Ethan, bitter, ugly and sickly cold like the winter (Lewis 310). Zeenas strong, dominating personality emasculates Ethan, while Matties feminine, effervescent youth makes Ethan feel like a real man. Contrary to his characteristic passiveness, he defies Zeena in Matties defence, You cant go, Matt! I wont let you! Shes Zeenas always had her way, but I mean to have mine now - (Wharton 123). To Ethan, Mattie is radiant and energetic. He sees possibilities in her beyond his trite life in Starkfield, something truly worth standing up for. Her energy and warmth excite him and allow him to escape from his lonely, monotonous life. While Zeena is visiting an out of town doctor, Ethan and Mattie, alone in the house, intensely feel her eerie presence. The warmth of their evening together is brought to an abrupt end by the accidental breaking of Zeenas prized dish. Zeenas fury at the breaking of an impractical pickle dish exemplifies the rage she must feel about her useless life. That the pickle dish has never been used makes it a strong symbol of Zeena herself, who prefers not to take part in life (Lawson 68-69). Ethans response to Zeenas rage was silence. Just as Ethan lives in silence, so too does his wife. The total lack of communication between the silent couple is a significant factor in Ethans miserable marriage. Ethan kept silent in his dealings with his wife, to check a tendency to impatient retort he had first formed the habit of not answering her, and finally thinking of other things while she talked (Wharton 72). Zeena is the cold and ugly reality from which Ethan tries to escape in his dreams of a life with Mattie. He is happy only when imagining his life with Mattie. The night that they are alone, hepretends that they are married. Often when they are together, he fantasizes that Zeena is dead and that he and Mattie live togetherin blissful devotion. Ethan deludes himself because, as a prisoner of circumstance, his only escape is illusion. His happiness in the company of Mattie is the product of a self-deception necessitated by his unhappy marriage to Zeena, the obstacle to a life long relationship with Mattie. After the night of the broken dish, Ethan and Mattie finally articulate their feelings for each other, and are forced to face the painful reality that their fantasies can not come true:The return to reality was as painful as the return to consciousness after taking an anaesthetic. His body and brain ached with indescribable weariness, and he could not think of nothing to say or do that should arrest the mad flight of the moments (Wharton 95). .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .postImageUrl , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:hover , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:visited , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:active { border:0!important; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:active , .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1 .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u1a3dee195135e28b8a099a08206cfdc1:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Ray Bradburys Outlook Of The F EssayZeena herself, from an oppressive reality, had faded into an insubstantial shade (Wharton 39). Her hypochondria is her outlet, just as Ethans world of fantasy is his. It her obsession with her health is adventurous in contrast to her monotonous marriage (McDowell 66). Sickly Zeena is able to manipulate her husband using her frail health to justify her bitter personality. When she Zeena spoke it was only to complain (Wharton 72). Ethan and Mattie attempt to preserve their happiness and remain together the only way they can, in death. At this point, Mattie inadvertently becomes the cause of Ethans tragic suffering. The aborted suicide attempt leads to their tragic fate, living a life of physical suffering, so badly injured that former invalid, Zeena is forced to care for them. If shed Mattied ha died, Ethan might ha lived (Wharton 181). It is horribly ironic that, as a result of the accident, Mattie, the source of Ethans earlier joy, is now an additional trial in an already depleted life. Where Ethan was once uplifted by virtue of Matties being, he is now burdened by her very presence. Tragically, time only accentuated his suffering instead of alleviating it. After suffering so long with the sickly Zeena, Ethan now has to exist with the horribly deformed remains of a once beautiful, sensitive, and loving girl. Once again surrendering himself to the forces of isolation, silence, darkness, cold, and death-in-life (McDowell 68). The setting for Ethan Frome is winter. Edith Wharton, the author, chose winter as a theme because it symbolizes the emotional and physical isolation, cold, darkness, and death that surround Ethan. Similarly, the name of the town Starkfield is symbolic of Ethans arid life. Stark denotes the harsh winters causing barren, lifeless landscape, with lifeless and devastated people (Howe 113). The narrator notes this connection; During the early part of my stay I had been struck by the climate and the deadness of the community (Wharton 8). Wharton emphasizes the rigor of life in a harsh land with its rocky soul, its cold winters, and its bleak, desolate beauty (McDowell 65). Wharton writes:The snow had ceased, and a flash of watery sunlight exposed the house on the slope above us in all its plaintive ugliness. The black wraith of a deciduous creeper flapped from the porch, and the thin wooden walls, under their worn coats of paint, seemed to shiver in the wind that had risen with the ceasing of the snow (20). The downtrodden image painted in this quotation describes the environment, as well as describing Ethan. Just as his house was once new and beautiful but is now torn by many harsh winters in Starkfield, so to was Ethan. The ravages of winter destroy both mans will to survive and the buildings he constructed to shield him from this environment. As the narrator explains, I had a sense that his Ethans loneliness was not merely the result of his personal plight, tragic as I guessed that to be, but had in it the profound accumulated cold of many winters (Wharton 15). The description of the weather is also used to foreshadow events and set the mood. Once Ethan and Mattie decide to take their lives, as if to suggest that something will go wrong, the sky is described as, swollen with clouds that announce a thaw, hung as low as before a summer storm (Wharton 167). This is just one of many times in the novel when the climate is used to indicate foreboding events. The weather imagery is used in character development and depiction. After the accident, He Ethan seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of its frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface (Wharton 14). When Mattie first arrives in Starkfield, her presence is perceived as, a bit of hopeful young life, like the lighting of a fire on a cold hearth (33). In contrast to Matties radiant warmth, Zeena is described as wintery and unappealing:She Zeena sat opposite the window, and the pale light reflected from the banks of snow made her face look more than usually drawn and bloodless, sharpened the three parallel creases between ear and cheek, and drew querulous lines from her thin nose to the corners of her mouth (64). .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .postImageUrl , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:hover , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:visited , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:active { border:0!important; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:active , .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .ufe7c5f56601491c7acc545d9359b7abd:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Gun Control misc6 EssayIn view of his miserable life, the reader can well understand Ethans need to escape into a fantasy world of warmth and love. The pervasiveness of the winter imagery evokes in the reader a sense of the bitter solitude, silence, desolation, and despair ultimately felt by each of the three main characters. Their tragic lives are overshadowed by gloom and hopelessness, in much the same way that winter stunts the growth and vitality of natures creations. Works CitedHowe, Irving. Edith Wharton: A Collection of Critical Essays. New York: Prentis Hall, 1962. Lawson, Richard H. Edith Wharton. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1977. Lewis, R.W.B. Edith Wharton A Biography. New York: Harper Row, Publishers, 1975. McDowell, Margaret. Edith Wharton. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1976. Wharton, Edith. Ethan Frome. New York: Charles Scribeners Sons, 1911.