Symbolism In The Catcher In The Rye の小説・ストーリー

Just released my wrist and leaned back in his chair like nothing had happened, except his eyes said everything had happened and he was going to let me pretend otherwise because he was patient enough to wait. I opened the Gatsby essay prompt. Spread my notes between us like a barricade. "The green light," I said. "Fitzgerald uses it as a symbol of–" "Hope." He said it flat. Dismissive. "Everybody says hope." "Because that's what it is. It represents Gatsby's belief that he can reach something better. That the future is worth reaching for."

Good thing he had a book full of pictures of flowers back in his room for his books and his damned symbolisms. "Why?" He wasn't sure if she knew what the Pansy flower meant. Did she know it meant 'loving thoughts', 'love or admiration of one person for another'? Or that it was used for secret courting? Jake bit his lip to hide the smile that had curved up the corners of his when thinking about this. On the other hand, the oblivious Ryder simply shrugged. She extended the bag of chips to the young man by her side and waited until he picked the chips and put them in his mouth before answering. "They're cute. They look like little grumpy dwarves."

Alice and Alicia's hearts warmed all over as they both reached for the brooches. "Thank you. We are going to wear it proudly. We will wear it throughout our whole life." Candy flew to Night and came to rest on his back. "Do you know what this gift symbolizes?" The question piqued the twin's interest, so their eyes started to dance with excitement. "What does it symbolize?" "Courage," Night piped enthusiastically, "to face your fears." "Strength and passion," Candy seconded. "And most importantly, protection," they both chorused in unison.

“What do you think about the use of symbolism in The Scarlet Letter? How does Hawthorne use it to comment on societal hypocrisy?” For a second, she just stared at me, like she hadn’t even heard the question. Then she blinked and glanced down at her notes, flipping through a couple of pages. She indeed was distracted and if she hated me before, I’m sure she would be ready to kill me now. It however wasn’t my intention to put her on the spot but this was the only way I could call her attention. “Uh.” Stacy sat up, back and shoulders straightening but her words still failing. “I think…I think Hawthorne uses the letter to represent sin. And how the community…” She trailed off, her fingers fidget

“Open to chapter three.” I obeyed. Mostly because the look she was giving me suggested violence. "Symbolism", she whispered. I frowned. “What’s symbolism again?” Her eyes widened. “You cannot be serious.” “I’m very serious.” She flipped open the book. “The bluebird represents freedom.” “It’s a bird.” “It’s a symbol.” “It’s still a bird.” She closed her eyes. “This is going to be a very long semester.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll carry us.”

It had been manufactured somewhere, packed by someone, shipped across state lines to arrive in this apartment on this day, and all of that industrial process felt suddenly intimate, as if the keychain had traveled a long distance not to reach him but to reach this moment, this decision. He walked to the front door. The bowl was where it always was. His car key. The office fob. The Hamptons key. The gap where Elijah's key had been. He stood there for a moment, the new keychain in his palm, and he thought about what he was about to do. He thought about the symbolism of it, the way every action in the past three weeks had seemed to carry symbolic weight whether he intended it to or not. He thou

I said, and felt brave because he believed in me and because it was easier to be valiant with his fingers laced with mine. We moved like conspirators. First we checked places you check when the world needs to feel rational: under the crib mattress, behind the rocking chair, in boxes labeled keep that turned out to be filled with the vicar’s old hymn sheets. Nothing. The key sat impatient in my palm like it wanted applause. “Maybe it’s not literal,” Marcus offered, tapping his chin. “Maybe it opens a drawer, a trunk, a metaphor. Maybe it’s symbolic and we should drink more tea and then let the universe tell us a story.”

That's kind of the whole book. We worked through the symbolism for an hour. He took actual notes — more than four — in the same large handwriting, filling half a page with a focus that surprised me a little. Not because I'd thought he was incapable of it, just because it was easy, with Finn, to forget that the warmth was the surface of something deeper. He was perceptive in a way that didn't announce itself. "The Valley of Ashes," he said, reading from a passage I'd flagged. "The eyes on the billboard. What's that about?"