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The "Unheard Souls" anthology is one of its kind that contains stories, poems, articles and quotes on different themes with variety of structures from 22 writers across the world who have poured out their creative juices into this book. This book provides a fantastic platform for aspiring writers to showcase their talent and creativity. It has also pushed our writers to think beyond the ordinary, expand their horizons and passion for writing.
The real message of the Bible which is a message between the Creator Yahweh and his people. This book features the Gospel WITHOUT the pagan influences that crept in 200 years after the Messiah's crucifixion and spearheaded by Constantine's church.
"The Unheard Voices" is an anthology which is published by Split Poetry India and compiled by Shruti Sur. It is a collection of poems, short stories, musings, and articles by various writers. This is book of voices, empowering humankind. A book which reminds the readers of a true sense of beauty and life.
During the nineteeth century, something vital went missing: the human being. In Unsuspecting Souls, Barry Sanders examines modern society's indifference to the individual. From the Industrial Revolution, where the disappearance of care for human beings begins slowly, to our own age, where societal events require less person–to–person interaction, Sanders laments that what makes us most human is slowly dying. Our days are filled with little but a continuous bombardment of "information," demands on our attention, that brings us out of our world and into one of inhumanity and abstraction. We are losing entirely any palpable attachment to our physical reality. And we've also lost the original sense of a collective consciousness. This loss has been fomenting for two centuries now, dating back to the rise of European powers and worldwide colonization. This has led to the notion that we need to define what is torture, an idea that not long ago would have seemed absurd, and need to pick our poisons among several forms of radical fundamentalisms, each one not only a threat to the other but a threat to humanity itself. From Edgar Allen Poe to Abu Ghraib, this is a fascinating and worrisome story, impeccably researched and compellingly written.
This strikingly original work presents an integral and inclusive explanatory model for the elusive narrative strategies of Gogol's Dead Souls; in the process, it draws larger conclusions about Gogol's creative methods and aesthetic concerns. Throughout his career, Gogol manifests two seemingly contradictory urges: the urge toward order, system, clarity and wholeness, and the urge toward disorder, disruption, obscurity, and fragmentation. The author seeks to make a system, an anatomy, of Gogol's impulses toward disorder and disruption in Dead Souls in all their various and distinctive aspects. In anatomizing Gogolian disorder, she explores the mythology of creativity and lying in Gogol; his (at least literary) fear of the family; the relation between the uses of obscurity in Dead Souls and the poetry of Russian Sentimentalism, especially Zhukovskii's; Dead Souls as parable; and the mutually subversive relation between ¹ction and non¹ction in Gogol.
Introduction It was somewhere, I think, towards the autumn of the year 1889 that the thought occurred to me that I might perhaps try to write a little in the modern way. For, hitherto, I had been, as it were, wearing costume in literature. The rich, figured English of the earlier part of the seventeenth century had always had a peculiar attraction for me. I accustomed myself to write in it, to think in it; I kept a diary in that manner, and half-unconsciously dressed up my every day thoughts and common experiences in the habit of the Cavalier or of the Caroline Divine. Thus, when in 1884 I got a commission to translate the Heptameron, I wrote quite naturally in the language of my favourite period, and, as some critics declare, made my English version somewhat more antique and stiff than the original. And so "The Anatomy of Tobacco" was an exercise in the antique of a different kind; and "The Chronicle of Clemendy" was a volume of tales that tried their hardest to be mediæval; and the translation of the "Moyen de Parvenir" was still a thing in the ancient mode. It seemed, in fine, to be settled that in literature I was to be a hanger on of the past ages; and I don't quite know how I managed to get away from them. I had finished translating "Casanova"—more modern, but not thoroughly up to date—and I had nothing particular on hand, and, somehow or other, it struck me that I might try a little writing for the papers. I began with a "turnover" as it was called, for the old vanished Globe, a harmless little article on old English proverbs; and I shall never forget my pride and delight when one day, being at Dover, with a fresh autumn wind blowing from the sea, I bought a chance copy of the paper and saw my essay on the front page.