What is the difference between a theme and a universal theme?
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Jack quested ahead. They went more slowly than Ralph had bargained for; yet in a way he was glad to loiter, cradling his spear. Jack came up against some emergency of his craft and soon the procession stopped. Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams started swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain—Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. . . .When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books—they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician, which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was The Boy’s Book of Trains, The Boy’s Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which The Mammoth Book for Boys would come out and slither down . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Ralph overrode them."And another thing. We nearly set the whole island on fire. And we waste time, rolling rocks and making little cooking fires. Now I say this and make it a rule, because I’m chief: We won’t have a fire anywhere but on the mountain. Ever.”There was a row immediately. Boys stood up and shouted and Ralph shouted back."Because if you want a fire to cook fish or crab, you can jolly well go up the mountain. That way we’ll be certain.”Hands were reaching for the conch in the light of the setting sun. He held on and leapt on the trunk."All this I meant to say. Now I’ve said it. You voted me for chief. Now you do what I say.”They quieted, slowly, and at last were seated again.
Read this prompt.Create a presentation to convince the Hanover County School Board members that the county should add a fall break to next year’s school schedule, creating a week-long respite in October.
Read the excerpt from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.Twelve o’clock had scarce rung out over London, ere the knocker sounded very gently on the door. I went myself at the summons, and found a small man crouching against the pillars of the portico."Are you come from Dr. Jekyll?” I asked.He told me "yes” by a constrained gesture; and when I had bidden him enter, he did not obey me without a searching backward glance into the darkness of the square. There was a policeman not far off, advancing with his bull’s eye open; and at the sight, I thought my visitor started and made greater haste.
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Read the excerpt from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.He [Hyde] put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cry followed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as I looked there came, I thought, a change—he seemed to swell—his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter—and the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leaped back against the wall, my arms raised to shield me from that prodigy, my mind submerged in terror.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.They set off again, the hunters bunched a little by fear of the mentioned beast, while Jack quested ahead. . . . Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams started swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain—Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. . . .When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books—they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician, which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was The Boy’s Book of Trains, The Boy’s Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which The Mammoth Book for Boys would come out and slither down . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.
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