<p>JMO u remember one???</p>
<p>she did too define her gender!</p>
<p>Vinny, that was the literal interpretation, but of course she meant something metaphorical when she said it. The rest of the paragraph went into how she strut down 7th Avenue with pride and didn't care what anyone thought.</p>
<p>JMO, i've had exactly the same answer as you on every one</p>
<p>julina......i honestly dont think your answer is right... by since i dont have the passage in front of me... cant really debate....it seems though a lot of ppl picked my answer (though, that doesnt mean its right)</p>
<p>i dont remember for that one...what about at the end...was it that it is up to chance or it didnt matter?</p>
<p>i put that it was chance</p>
<p>DH- awesome. it would suck, however, if we both got them wrong.</p>
<p>i think i put chance too</p>
<p>I don't think it was the race, gender, and time thing...could you explain your reasoning behind it? Although now it seems that our answers are not that dissimilar in meaning...ugh...</p>
<p>What do you guys think 6-8 wrong would be? That's a generous estimation for me. Sigh.</p>
<p>there was a question about following strict sonnet form but i cant remember to what it applied...i feel you julina</p>
<p>Whoever wanted the Zora Neale Huston passage...</p>
<p>At certain times I have no race, I am me. When I set my hat at a certain angle and saunter down Seventh Avenue, Harlem City, feeling as snooty as the lions in front of the Forty-Second Street Library, for instance. So far as my feelings are concerned, Peggy Hopkins Joyce on the Boule Mich with her gorgeous raiment, stately carriage, knees knocking together in a most aristocratic manner, has nothing on me. The cosmic Zora emerges. I belong to no race nor time. I am the eternal feminine with its string of beads. </p>
<p>I have no separate feeling about being an American citizen and colored. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company! It's beyond me. </p>
<p>But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped against a wall. Against a wall in company with other bags, white, red and yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small things priceless and worthless. A first-water diamond, an empty spool, bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty knifeblade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two, still a little fragrant. In your hand is the brown bag. On the ground before you is the jumble it held--so much like the jumble in the bags, could they be emptied, that all might be dumped in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly. A bit of colored glass more or less would not matter. Perhaps that is how the Great Stuffer of Bags filled them in the first place--who knows?</p>
<p>She did define her gender, "[she] is the eternal feminine..."</p>
<p>Uh...Hurston prolly wrote the passage herself. XD And thanks JMO and thesiren. I think the strict sonnet form thing was one of the I, II, or III in the love or lily poem. Maybe it was in the answer that you said had I, II, and III? I remember choosing it for something...</p>
<p>yes i put that it was NOT a strict sonnet. it wasnt....(it was in the love poem) but i was torn between that and whether or not there were references to greek mythology? But, it wasnt a sonnet!</p>
<p>i think it referred to the love one...but there was a mention of form in the lily one too</p>
<p>Yeah, Hurston did wirte the passage herself. There were no references to greek mythology, so I put that down.</p>
<p>i chose greek mythology i think</p>
<p>I don't think there was reference to Greek mythology...****, are you sure it wasn't in sonnet form? That's another wrong for me...</p>
<p>any train ones you guys remember? that was my least favorite passage of all time.</p>
<p>The lily one was not a strict sonnet, because it didn't have the tradition fourteen lines that it normally has.</p>