📘 ❞ The Bell Jar ❝ قصة ــ Sylvia Plath اصدار 1971
Stories and novels - 📖 قصة ❞ The Bell Jar ❝ ــ Sylvia Plath 📖
█ _ Sylvia Plath 1971 حصريا قصة ❞ The Bell Jar ❝ عن New York : Harper & Row 2024 Jar: Jar It was a QUEER, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I doing in I'm stupid about executions The idea of being makes me sick, and that's all there to read papers goggle eyed headlines staring up at on every street corner fusty, peanutsmelling mouth of subway It had nothing do with me, but couldn't help wondering it would be like, being burned alive along your nerves thought must worst thing world bad enough By nine morning fake, country wet freshness that somehow seeped overnight evaporated like tail end sweet dream Mirage gray bottom their granite canyons, hot streets wavered the sun, car tops sizzled glittered, dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down throat Stories novels مجاناً PDF اونلاين هذا القسم يحتوي علي العديد من القصص والروايات باللغة الإنجليزية This section contains many stories English (Stories novels) والروايات: الرواية هي سرد نثري طويل يصف شخصيات خيالية أو واقعية وأحداثاً شكل متسلسلة كما أنها أكبر الأجناس القصصية حيث الحجم وتعدد الشخصيات وتنوع الأحداث وقد ظهرت أوروبا بوصفها جنساً أدبياً مؤثراً القرن الثامن عشر والرواية حكاية تعتمد السرد بما فيه وصف وحوار وصراع بين وما ينطوي عليه ذلك تأزم وجدل وتغذيه A novel is relatively long work narrative fiction, normally written prose form, which typically published as book present English word for fiction derives from Italian novella "new", "news", or "short story something new", itself Latin novella, singular noun use neuter plural novellus, diminutive novus, meaning "new" Walter Scott made distinction between novel, (as he saw it) "events are accommodated ordinary train human events modern state society" romance, defined "a fictitious verse; interest turns upon marvellous uncommon incidents"
The Bell Jar
It was a QUEER, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and
I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm stupid about executions. The idea of
being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers --
goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanutsmelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help
wondering what it would be like, being burned alive all along your nerves.
I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.
New York was bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet
freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet
dream. Mirage-gray at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the
sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and
down my throat.
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