“Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, utters another.” This inspiring quote came from one of Homers epic poems, The Iliad....
Marvin reacts to Lymon’s friendship with distaste, physical and mental abuse, but ulterior motives begin to form when Marvin realizes the power Lymon has over Amelia.
The artwork that inspired me, and I have carefully studied for this assignment was very interesting art piece completed by Jacopo Del Casentino’s who named this art piece Madonna and Child.
Nikumaroro, formerly Gardner Island, is an atoll about four hundred miles southeast of Howland. At low tide, it is surrounded by a broad, flat apron of coral where a plane could safely touch down. The interior is covered with dense tropical vegetation bordering a lagoon. In 1929, a steamer went aground on the reef, and when its crew was rescued it left behind a cache of provisions. The atoll was deserted until 1938, when it became one of the last outposts of the British Empire to be colonized, and was settled by natives of the Gilbert Islands. (A prolonged drought forced the inhabitants to abandon Nikumaroro in the nineteen-sixties.)
Amelia Earhart was a very famous, record-setting woman aviator.
In 1940, a colonial administrator and his work party found a liqueur bottle and some corks, a human skull and some bones, the partial sole of a woman’s shoe, parts of a man’s shoe, and a sextant box. (Noonan had a mariner’s sextant on board.) A year later, the skull and the bones were examined by a British doctor on Fiji. The relics subsequently vanished, but when the doctor’s notes came to light, in the nineteen-nineties, they were reviewed by forensic anthropologists. Their verdict, according to Gillespie, is that they probably belonged to a female, about five feet seven (Earhart was an inch taller), of Northern European origin.
That same year two major publishers printed biographies on him.
It is hard to know whether, or how long, Earhart would have stayed in social work if Railey hadn’t offered her a shot at glory. She could, for a while, throw herself into a high-minded endeavor, but she lacked the discipline to see it through. She dallied with Chapman for six years, breaking their engagement when she became famous. (He never married.) She warned Putnam that she was incapable of fidelity, and she apparently made good on her threat. Her flights were feats of courage and endurance, but compared with the achievements of the women in her scrapbook their significance was ephemeral. Her unique experience might have yielded a memoir that would still be read, yet she published only three slight books, one of them posthumous, which were rushed out, for commercial reasons, in weeks. When people asked Earhart why she flew, she liked to say, “For the fun of it,” and “The Fun of It” was the title of her second book. Gravity was uncongenial to her, and she made light even of grave things. There was ether in the very sound of her name. Physically, too, she seemed like an airy spirit—Ariel, impatient to be set free.
Amelia Earhart: America's Lost Heroine
Among the admirers of her bravado was the Earharts’ new boarder. (They had lost a chunk of Amy’s inheritance in a disastrous mining venture promoted by Amelia.) Sam Chapman, an engineer from Marblehead, Massachusetts, was five years Amelia’s senior. They played tennis and discussed philosophy, Butler writes, and he shared her progressive ideals, including, apparently, her notions of equality between a husband and a wife. Before he left California, in 1924, he asked her to marry him, and she accepted.