KATE CHOPIN (1851-1904) The Story o

KATE CHOPIN (1851-1904) The Story of an Hour Knowing heart trouble, great care that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband s death, It her Josephine who told her, in broken sentences, veiled hints was sister that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too. near her It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brentiy Mallard's name leading the list of killed He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened forestall any less careful. less tender friend in to bearing the sad message heard the same. with a She did not hear the story as many women have wild paralyzed inability to accept its significance She wept at once, with sudden,
went in her sister's arms when the storm of had speto itself she away to her room alene. She would have no one follow her this she stood. facing the open a comfortable, roomy armchair Into seemed sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and to reach into her soul She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that the re all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain in air. In the street below was ng which some a peddler was crying his wares. The of a distant notes were one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows twittering in the eaves There were of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that met and piled one above the other in the wes facing her window She sat with her head thrown back upon the of the chair, quite motionless cushion except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to in its dreams sob She was young. with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a in strength But now there was stare her whose gaze a dull was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky It was not a nce of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought There was something coming her and she was waiting for i fearfully to what was it? She did not know: it was subtle and elusive to name But she too felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the the soun scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing was aching to possess her, and she was striving beat i to back with her will-as powerless as her two white slender hands would hav been When he abandoned herself a little whispered word eseaped her slightly parted lips She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" Th terror that had followed it went from her eyes. The vacant stare and the look of stayed keen and bright Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous that held joy her A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death, the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession years to come that would belong to her absolutely And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome There would be no one to live for her during those coming years she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to a private will upon a fellow-creature, A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon i in that brief moment of illumination And yet she had loved him sometimes Ofen she had not. What did it 15 muter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession

went in her sister's arms when the storm of had speto itself she away to her room alene. She would have no one follow her this she stood. facing the open a comfortable, roomy armchair Into seemed sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and to reach into her soul She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that the re all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain in air. In the street below was ng which some a peddler was crying his wares. The of a distant notes were one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows twittering in the eaves There were of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that met and piled one above the other in the wes facing her window She sat with her head thrown back upon the of the chair, quite motionless cushion except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to in its dreams sob She was young. with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a in strength But now there was stare her whose gaze a dull was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky It was not a nce of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought There was something coming her and she was waiting for i fearfully to what was it? She did not know: it was subtle and elusive to name But she too felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the the soun scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing was aching to possess her, and she was striving beat i to back with her will-as powerless as her two white slender hands would hav been When he abandoned herself a little whispered word eseaped her slightly parted lips She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" Th terror that had followed it went from her eyes. The vacant stare and the look of stayed keen and bright Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous that held joy her A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death, the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession years to come that would belong to her absolutely And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome There would be no one to live for her during those coming years she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to a private will upon a fellow-creature, A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon i in that brief moment of illumination And yet she had loved him sometimes Ofen she had not. What did it 15 muter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession
vely. For example, Chopin does not explain why Mrs Mallard suffers a heart attack end of this story. is the shock of seeing her "dead husband simply too much for this woman 'afflicted with a heart trouble? Does she die of what the doctors call a joy that kills because she was so glad her husband? Is she so expense that profoundly guilty about feeling "free at her husband's reaction she has a heart attack? Is her death kind of willed suicide in on to her loss of freedom? a which details Your answers to these questions will depend kinds you emphasize in your interpretation of the story and the the of perspectives and values you bring to it. If, for example, you rea story from a feminist perspective, you would be likely to pay close attention to Chopin s comments about marriage in paragraph i4 or if you read the story as an oblique attack on the insensitivity of period, you might want to find if Chopin wrote elsewhere about doctors she did) out and compare her comments with historic sources. A number o Critical Strategies for Reading" including feminist and historical approaches appear in Chapter 30.) Reading responsively makes you an active participant in the process of creating meaning in a literary work, the experience that you and the author create will most likely not be identical to another reader's encounter with the same work, but then that's true of nearly any experience you'll have and part, of the pleasure of reading Indeed, talking and writing about literature is a way of sharing responses that they can be enriched and so deepened EXPLORATIONS AND FORMULAS Each time we pick up a work of fiction, go to the theater, or turn on the television, we have a trace of the same magical expectation that can be heard in the voice of a child who be Tell me a story," Human beings have enjoyed stories ever since they learned to speak whatever the motive even if simply to delight or instruct for creating stories the basic human impulse to tell and hear stories existed long before the development of written language Myths about the origins of the world and legends about the heroic exploits of demigods were among the earliest forms of storytelling to develop into oral traditions, which were eventually written down. These narratives are the ancestors of the stories we read on the printed page today Unlike the early listeners to ancient myths and legends, we read our stories ently, but the pleasure derived from the mysterious power of someone else's artfully arranged words remains largely the same Every one of us likes a good story The stories that appear in anthologies for college students are generally chosen for their high literary quality such stories can affect us at the deepest tional level, reveal new insights into ourselves or the world, and stretch us by exercising our imaginations They warrant careful reading and close

ผลลัพธ์ (ไทย) 1:

เคทโชแปง (1851-1904) เรื่องของการชั่วโมงรู้หัวใจ ดูแลดีที่เป็ดมัลลาร์ดนางถูกทรมานด้วยการถูกนำมาทำลายเธอเบา ๆ เป็นข่าวตาย s สามีของเธอ เธอ Josephine ที่บอกเธอ ในเสียประโยค คำแนะนำ veiled ก็น้องสาวที่เปิดเผยใน concealing ครึ่ง เพื่อนของสามีริชาร์ดได้ เกินไป ใกล้เธอเป็นผู้ที่ได้รับในสำนักงานหนังสือพิมพ์เมื่อปัญญาภัยรถไฟรับ ชื่อ Brentiy เป็ดมัลลาร์ดนำรายฆ่าเขาได้เพียงใช้เวลาเพื่อให้มั่นใจว่าความจริงของตัวเอง โดยโทรเลขสอง และมี hastened ขัดขวางใด ๆ น้อยระวัง ชำระเงินน้อยกว่าเพื่อนในเรืองความเศร้าได้ยินเหมือนกัน กับเธอได้ยินเรื่องผู้หญิงหลายคนมีป่าอัมพาตไม่สามารถยอมรับความสำคัญของเธอร้องไห้ทันที โดยฉับพลัน went in her sister's arms when the storm of had speto itself she away to her room alene. She would have no one follow her this she stood. facing the open a comfortable, roomy armchair Into seemed sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and to reach into her soul She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that the re all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain in air. In the street below was ng which some a peddler was crying his wares. The of a distant notes were one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows twittering in the eaves There were of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that met and piled one above the other in the wes facing her window She sat with her head thrown back upon the of the chair, quite motionless cushion except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to in its dreams sob She was young. with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a in strength But now there was stare her whose gaze a dull was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky It was not a nce of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought There was something coming her and she was waiting for i fearfully to what was it? She did not know: it was subtle and elusive to name But she too felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the the soun scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing was aching to possess her, and she was striving beat i to back with her will-as powerless as her two white slender hands would hav been When he abandoned herself a little whispered word eseaped her slightly parted lips She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" Th terror that had followed it went from her eyes. The vacant stare and the look of stayed keen and bright Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous that held joy her A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death, the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession years to come that would belong to her absolutely And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome There would be no one to live for her during those coming years she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to a private will upon a fellow-creature, A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon i in that brief moment of illumination And yet she had loved him sometimes Ofen she had not. What did it 15 muter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession went in her sister's arms when the storm of had speto itself she away to her room alene. She would have no one follow her this she stood. facing the open a comfortable, roomy armchair Into seemed sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and to reach into her soul She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that the re all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain in air. In the street below was ng which some a peddler was crying his wares. The of a distant notes were one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows twittering in the eaves There were of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that met and piled one above the other in the wes facing her window She sat with her head thrown back upon the of the chair, quite motionless cushion except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to in its dreams sob She was young. with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a in strength But now there was stare her whose gaze a dull was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky It was not a nce of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought There was something coming her and she was waiting for i fearfully to what was it? She did not know: it was subtle and elusive to name But she too felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the the soun scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing was aching to possess her, and she was striving beat i to back with her will-as powerless as her two white slender hands would hav been When he abandoned herself a little whispered word eseaped her slightly parted lips She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" Th terror that had followed it went from her eyes. The vacant stare and the look of stayed keen and bright Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous that held joy her A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death, the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession years to come that would belong to her absolutely And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome There would be no one to live for her during those coming years she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to a private will upon a fellow-creature, A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon i in that brief moment of illumination And yet she had loved him sometimes Ofen she had not. What did it 15 muter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession vely. For example, Chopin does not explain why Mrs Mallard suffers a heart attack end of this story. is the shock of seeing her "dead husband simply too much for this woman 'afflicted with a heart trouble? Does she die of what the doctors call a joy that kills because she was so glad her husband? Is she so expense that profoundly guilty about feeling "free at her husband's reaction she has a heart attack? Is her death kind of willed suicide in on to her loss of freedom? a which details Your answers to these questions will depend kinds you emphasize in your interpretation of the story and the the of perspectives and values you bring to it. If, for example, you rea story from a feminist perspective, you would be likely to pay close attention to Chopin s comments about marriage in paragraph i4 or if you read the story as an oblique attack on the insensitivity of period, you might want to find if Chopin wrote elsewhere about doctors she did) out and compare her comments with historic sources. A number o Critical Strategies for Reading" including feminist and historical approaches appear in Chapter 30.) Reading responsively makes you an active participant in the process of creating meaning in a literary work, the experience that you and the author create will most likely not be identical to another reader's encounter with the same work, but then that's true of nearly any experience you'll have and part, of the pleasure of reading Indeed, talking and writing about literature is a way of sharing responses that they can be enriched and so deepened EXPLORATIONS AND FORMULAS Each time we pick up a work of fiction, go to the theater, or turn on the television, we have a trace of the same magical expectation that can be heard in the voice of a child who be Tell me a story," Human beings have enjoyed stories ever since they learned to speak whatever the motive even if simply to delight or instruct for creating stories the basic human impulse to tell and hear stories existed long before the development of written language Myths about the origins of the world and legends about the heroic exploits of demigods were among the earliest forms of storytelling to develop into oral traditions, which were eventually written down. These narratives are the ancestors of the stories we read on the printed page today Unlike the early listeners to ancient myths and legends, we read our stories ently, but the pleasure derived from the mysterious power of someone else's artfully arranged words remains largely the same Every one of us likes a good story The stories that appear in anthologies for college students are generally chosen for their high literary quality such stories can affect us at the deepest tional level, reveal new insights into ourselves or the world, and stretch us by exercising our imaginations They warrant careful reading and close

ผลลัพธ์ (ไทย) 3:

เคท โชแปง ( 1851-1904 ) เรื่องราวของ 1 ชั่วโมง ทราบปัญหาหัวใจ การดูแลที่ดีที่คุณนายมัลลาร์ดเป็นโรคไปทำลายเธออย่างนุ่มนวลที่สุดข่าวของสามีของเธอตาย แต่นางโจเซฟิน ใครบอกเธอ ในประโยคที่แตก อีกคนคือน้องสาวที่พบคําแนะนําในครึ่งปกปิด . ริชาร์ดส์เพื่อนของสามีก็อยู่ด้วยใกล้เธอมันเป็นคนที่อยู่ที่สำนักงานหนังสือพิมพ์เมื่อความฉลาดทางรถไฟภัยพิบัติที่ได้รับ กับ brentiy ป่าชื่อนำรายชื่อฆ่าเขาเอาเวลาเพื่อให้แน่ใจว่ามันคือความจริง โดยโทรเลขวินาที และต้องรีบขัดขวางใด ๆระวังน้อยลง น้อยซื้อเพื่อนในเรืองข้อความเศร้าได้ยินเหมือนกันกับเธอไม่ได้ฟังเรื่องที่เป็นผู้หญิงหลายคนมีป่าเป็นอัมพาตไม่สามารถที่จะยอมรับความสำคัญเธอร้องไห้ทันทีอย่าง
ไปในอ้อมแขนของพี่สาวของเธอ เมื่อพายุได้ speto นั่นเอง เธอออกไปกับอาเลนี่ห้องของเธอ เธอคงไม่มีใครตามเธอ นี่เธอ ยืน ซึ่งเปิดสบาย มีเก้าอี้เป็นเหมือนจมกดลงด้วยความอ่อนเพลียทางกายที่สิงร่างของเธอและเข้าถึงจิตวิญญาณของเธอที่เธอได้เห็นในสี่เหลี่ยมเปิดก่อนที่บ้านยอดของต้นไม้ที่เป็น aquiver กับชีวิตใหม่ของฤดูใบไม้ผลิ ลมหายใจที่แสนอร่อยของ เรน ในอากาศ ในถนนด้านล่างคือของที่แม่ค้าเร่ร้องไห้เครื่องใช้เขา ของไกลบันทึกหนึ่งร้องเพลงถึงของเธอๆและนกกระจอกนับไม่ถ้วนสั่นด้วยความตื่นเต้นของในชายคามีฟ้าสีครามแสดงที่นี่และมีผ่านเมฆที่พบ และกองหนึ่งข้างต้นอื่น ๆในเวสหันหน้าไปทางหน้าต่าง เธอเอนศีรษะไปพิงของเก้าอี้ค่อนข้างนิ่ง หมอนอิง ยกเว้นเมื่อสะอื้นขึ้นมาเข้าไปในคอเธอ และจับมือของเธอเป็นเด็กที่ร้องไห้ตัวเองไปนอนในความฝันของมันยังคงสะอื้น เธอยังเด็ก ด้วยความเป็นธรรม สงบ ใบหน้าที่มีเส้น bespoke การปราบปรามและแม้กระทั่งในความแข็งแกร่ง แต่ตอนนี้สายตาเธอที่จ้องมองทึบไปไกลโพ้นหย่อมหนึ่งฟ้าก็ไม่มีอิทธิพล ( ของสะท้อนแต่แทนที่จะพบระงับความคิดฉลาด มีอะไรกำลังมา เธอรอฉัน fearfully เพื่ออะไร ? เธอไม่รู้ มันลึกซึ้งและเข้าใจยากเพื่อชื่อ แต่เธอก็รู้สึกมันคลานออกมาจากท้องฟ้า ถึงทางของเธอผ่านทาง โซอุน กลิ่น สี ที่เติมอากาศ ตอนนี้หน้าอกของเธอกระเพื่อมขึ้นลงอย่างถี่กระชั้นเธอเริ่มที่จะรับรู้สิ่งนี้เจ็บปวดที่จะครอบครองเธอ และเธอก็พยายามเอาชนะฉันกลับกับเธอจะเป็นอำนาจที่เธอขาวเรียวมือจะ HAV ถูกเมื่อเขาทอดทิ้งตัวเองเล็กน้อย กระซิบคำ eseaped ของเธอ ริมฝีปากที่เผยอเล็กน้อย เธอพูดซ้ำไปซ้ำมาภายใต้ลมหายใจของเธอ : " ฟรี , ฟรี , ฟรี ! " th ความหวาดกลัวที่ตามมันออกไปจากสายตาของเธอที่จ้องมองอยู่และกระตือรือร้น และสดใส ชีพจรของเธอเต้นแรงขึ้น และเลือดที่ไหลอุ่นและผ่อนคลายทุกอณูในร่างกายของเธอที่เธอไม่ได้หยุดถามถ้าเป็นหรือไม่เป็นปีศาจที่ถือความสุขของเธอและความเข้าใจที่ชัดเจนขึ้นทำให้เธอสามารถยกเลิกข้อเสนอแนะเล็กน้อย เธอรู้ว่าเธอจะ ร้องไห้อีกแล้ว เมื่อเธอเห็นแบบนั้น มือนุ่ม พับเก็บอยู่ในความตายใบหน้าที่เคยดูบันทึกรักให้แก่เธอ ถาวร และ เทา และ ตาย แต่เธอเห็นเกินกว่าที่ขมขื่นขณะขบวนยาวปีมานั้นเป็นของเธออย่างแน่นอน เธออ้าแขนเปิดกว้างออกต้อนรับมันไม่มีคนที่จะใช้ชีวิตของเธอในช่วงที่ผ่านมา เธอจะมีชีวิตอยู่เพื่อตัวเธอเองจะไม่มีอำนาจจะมาดัดที่คงอยู่กับที่ชายและหญิงเชื่อว่าพวกเขามีสิทธิจะส่วนตัว เมื่อเพื่อนร่วมโลกชนิดเจตนาหรือความตั้งใจที่โหดร้ายทำให้การแสดงดูไม่น้อย อาชญากรรม ขณะที่เธอมองฉันในช่วงเวลาสั้น ๆของการส่องสว่าง และหล่อนก็หลงรักเขาบางครั้งสักกี่ครั้งเธอมีไม่ นี่มัน 15 muter ! แล้วจะรักปริศนาคลี่คลายได้ในหน้านี้ครอบครอง

ไปในอ้อมแขนของพี่สาวของเธอ เมื่อพายุได้ speto นั่นเอง เธอออกไปกับอาเลนี่ห้องของเธอ เธอคงไม่มีใครตามเธอ นี่เธอ ยืน ซึ่งเปิดสบาย มีเก้าอี้เป็นเหมือนจมกดลงด้วยความอ่อนเพลียทางกายที่สิงร่างของเธอและเข้าถึงจิตวิญญาณของเธอที่เธอได้เห็นในสี่เหลี่ยมเปิดก่อนที่บ้านยอดของต้นไม้ที่เป็น aquiver กับชีวิตใหม่ของฤดูใบไม้ผลิ ลมหายใจที่แสนอร่อยของ เรน ในอากาศ ในถนนด้านล่างคือของที่แม่ค้าเร่ร้องไห้เครื่องใช้เขา ของไกลบันทึกหนึ่งร้องเพลงถึงของเธอๆ