Reflection Paper - 956 Words

Mahatma Gandhi once said, â€Å"A ‘No’ uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a Yes merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble.† This idea supports individual choices in a conforming society. Gandhi became the voice of India’s nonviolent independence effort against Britain. Other examples in history include Rosa Parks, Nelson Mandela, Winston Churchill and Muhammad Ali. These individuals faced prosecution due to their beliefs, but they refused to remain silent. I admire these famous advocates for their courage and vulnerability. I know from personal experience it is difficult to voice my convictions to an opposing force. It is far easier to conform and side with the majority rather than isolate myself. This concept has†¦show more content†¦I believe in gun control and limiting the rights of owning a gun and eliminating the dangers to ensure the safety of the public. If the government cracked down on universal background checks , mental health screenings, and required licensing for all known and private gun dealers that would eliminate the risk of a gun falling into the wrong hands. Growing up in a small town in Northern MN did not prepare me to face cultural differences and bias’s on a college campus. I am a practicing Christian who is accepting of all people. I have been stereotyped as an uneducated woman with white superiority. These assumptions are wrong on all accounts. I have a very diverse set o beliefs and views that do not align to one specific political party. I was accustomed to my small town of Norwegian descent, which had over 99% of the population being white. I came to college very open minded and did not expect people to have a personal bias of me as an individual. I know that this is minimal in terms of bias related opinions, but I found it eye opening since I never thought it would happen to me. This is a personal bias fear that people may associate me with being privileged. I s upport many forms of social activism on campus, specifically the freedom of religion. Donald Trump is a successful business man who claimed in the 1980’s that he would run for president if the state of the nation was in bad shape. Unfortunately, Donald Trump becameShow MoreRelatedReflection Paper1317 Words   |  6 Pagesused to struggle with forming my thoughts into writing, let alone a paper. I was never confident with what I wrote. My writing had no greater purpose other than the assignment. My writing process included: writing my paper, proofreading it, and turning it in. Once the paper left my hands, it also left my mind. Throughout this course we worked with others, visited the writing lab, wrote critiques, and we were able to revise our papers. I believe that all of this is has caused me to grow greatly as aRead MoreReflection Paper836 Words   |  4 Pagesand integrating quotes. 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An Immense Amount Of People Overdo Their Bodies As They

An immense amount of people overdo their bodies as they overload themselves with labor, and as a result, they suffer many adverse effects. Studies have shown that participating in a steady job is good for your health and wellbeing. It contributes to happiness and rewards us with other benefits as well. However, overworking leads to stress, depression and emotional exhaustion. This is all due to many factors associated with your job. The work environment, people you work with, your personal life and health background all play a role. Furthermore, it is that work related stress and bad health aligns with this aspect. Taking care of yourself and your health is imperative. This is why it is crucial to give yourself fulfillment from†¦show more content†¦Returning to work after a period of being unemployment results in remarkable physical and psychological health improvements, vetoing the adverse effects of health when unemployed. The result of an employee s’ worktime contr ols their mental health and physical wellness. According to Leena Ala Mursula, a scholarly writer, states â€Å"In women, poor health and psychological distress were more prevalent among those in the lowest quartile of work time control than those in the highest after adjustment for potential confounders including other aspects of job control, odds ratios and their 95% confidence intervals for poor health and psychological distress were 1.8 and 1.6. Correspondingly, the adjusted sickness absence rate was 1.2 times higher in women with low work time control than in women with high work time control.† This shows that poor health and physical suffering is more visible among people who work fewer hours than those who work overtime. In the results of a systematic meta-review, the available evidence confirms the theory that work can benefit an employee s well-being. If adequate supervision is present and there are real workplace circumstances, this is where it is most present. The benefits of working are most evident when compared to negative mental health effects of unemployment. The possible benefits of satisfactory work and the part it plays in acceleratingShow MoreRelatedThe National Drinking Age Research Paper2214 Words   |  9 Pageseighteen from twenty one, or should remain the same. People in favor of lowering the drinking age propose that since eighteen is characterized as being an adult (legally and socially), one of the rights that should come along with that is drinking alcohol. Also, that if we were to lower the drinking age, less young adults would be inclined to consume alcohol because it would decrease the thrill of breaking the law. On the opposite side, people who want to keep the drinking age at 21 point out thatRead MoreEssay on Fall of Asclepius95354 Words   |  382 PagesFall of Asclepius By Harm 1 and Icrick Prologue Where should I begin? The apocalypse happened so fast. In less than a month, monsters infested every part of this world. People panicked, people died. They clawed at each other just to get out of all the infested areas around the world. There was problem about fleeing from infested areas. Everywhere was infested. There was no where anyone could go without encountering the walking plague. You know that phrase War is Hell? Well... its deadRead MorePlenary Session69346 Words   |  278 Pageswork: a. To deadlines b. Just â€Å"whenever† Do you tend to choose: a. Rather carefully b. Somewhat impulsively At parties do you: a. Stay late, with increasing energy b. Leave early with decreased energy Are you more attracted to: a. Sensible people b. Imaginative people 14. Does it bother you more having things: a. Incomplete b. Completed 15. In your social groups do you: a. Keep abreast of other’s happenings b. Get behind on the news 16. In doing ordinary things are you more likely to: a. Do it the usualRead MoreProject Mgmt296381 Words   |  1186 PagesCross Reference of Project Management Body of Knowledge (PMBOK) Concepts to Text Topics Chapter 1 Modern Project Management Chapter 8 Scheduling resources and cost 1.2 Project defined 1.3 Project management defined 1.4 Projects and programs (.2) 2.1 The project life cycle (.2.3) App. G.1 The project manager App. G.7 Political and social environments F.1 Integration of project management processes [3.1] 6.5.2 Setting a schedule baseline [8.1.4] 6.5.3.1 Setting a resource schedule 6.5.2.4 Resource

The Host Chapter 32 Ambushed Free Essays

string(140) " by the door to catch me when he herded me around the pool\? How close was Kyle now\? I felt the hairs on my arms and legs standing on end\." The caves were quiet; the sun had not yet risen. In the big plaza, the mirrors were a pale gray with the coming dawn. My few clothes were still in Jamie and Jared’s room. We will write a custom essay sample on The Host Chapter 32: Ambushed or any similar topic only for you Order Now I snuck in, glad that I knew where Jared was. Jamie was sound asleep, curled into a tight ball in the top corner of the mattress. He didn’t usually sleep so compactly, but he had good reason to at the moment. Ian was sprawled across the rest of the space, his feet and hands hanging off the edges, one appendage to each of the four sides. For some reason, this was hysterical to me. I had to put my fist in my mouth to choke back the laughter as I quickly snatched up my old dirt-dyed T-shirt and shorts. I hurried into the hall, still stifling the giggles. You’re slaphappy, Melanie told me. You need some sleep. I’ll sleep later. When†¦ I couldn’t finish the thought. It sobered me instantaneously, and everything was quiet again. I was still rushing as I headed for the bathing room. I trusted Doc, but†¦ Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe Jared would argue against what I wanted. I couldn’t be all day. I thought I heard something behind me when I reached the octopus-like juncture where all the sleeping halls met. I looked back, but I couldn’t see anyone in the dim cave. People were beginning to stir. Soon it would be time for breakfast and another day of work. If they’d finished with the stalks, the ground in the east fields would need to be turned. Maybe I would have time to help†¦ later†¦ I followed the familiar path to the underground rivers, my mind in a million other places. I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything in particular. Every time I tried to focus on a subject-Walter, Jared, breakfast, chores, baths-some other thought would pull my head away in seconds. Melanie was right; I needed to sleep. She was just as muddled. Her thoughts all spun around Jared, but she could make nothing coherent of them, either. I’d gotten used to the bathing room. The utter blackness of it didn’t bother me anymore. So many places were black here. Half my daylight hours were lived in darkness. And I’d been here too many times. There was never anything lurking under the water’s surface, waiting to pull me under. I knew I didn’t have time to soak, though. Others would be up soon, and some people liked to start their day clean. I got to work, washing myself first, then moving on to my clothes. I scrubbed at my shirt fiercely, wishing I could scrub out my memory of the past two nights. My hands were stinging when I was done, the dry cracks on my knuckles burning worst of all. I rinsed them in the water, but it made no noticeable difference. I sighed and climbed out to get dressed. I’d left my dry clothes on the loose rocks in the back corner. I kicked a stone by accident, hard enough to hurt my bare foot, and it clattered loudly across the room, bouncing off the wall and landing with a plunk and a gurgle in the pool. The sound made me jump, though it wasn’t all that loud next to the roar of the hot river in the outer room. I was just shoving my feet into my scruffy tennis shoes when my turn was up. â€Å"Knock, knock,† a familiar voice called from the dark entry. â€Å"Good morning, Ian,† I said. â€Å"I’m just done. Did you sleep well?† â€Å"Ian’s still sleeping,† Ian’s voice answered. â€Å"I’m sure that won’t last forever, though, so we’d best get on with this.† Splinters of ice pinned my joints in place. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I’d noticed it before, and then forgotten it in the long weeks of Kyle’s absence: not only did Ian and his brother look very much alike, but-when Kyle spoke at a normal volume, which so rarely happened-they also had exactly the same voice. There was no air. I was trapped in this black hole with Kyle at the door. There was no way out. Keep quiet! Melanie shrieked in my head. I could do that. There was no air to scream with. Listen! I did as I was told, trying to focus in spite of the fear that stabbed through my head like a million slender spears of ice. I couldn’t hear anything. Was Kyle waiting for a response? Was he sneaking around the room in silence? I listened harder, but the rush of the river covered any sounds. Quick, grab a rock! Melanie ordered. Why? I saw myself crashing a rough stone against Kyle’s head. I can’t do it! Then we’re going to die! she screamed back at me. I can do it! Let me! There has to be another way, I moaned, but I forced my ice-locked knees to bend. My hands searched the darkness and came up with a large, jagged rock and a handful of pebbles. Fight or flight. In desperation, I tried to unlock Melanie, to let her out. I couldn’t find the door-my hands were still my own, clutched uselessly around the objects I could never make into weapons. A noise. A tiny splash as something entered the stream that drained the pool into the latrine room. Only a few yards away. Give me my hands! I don’t know how! Take them! I started to creep away, close to the wall, toward the exit. Melanie struggled to find her way out of my head, but she couldn’t find the door from her side, either. Another sound. Not by the far stream. A breath, by the exit. I froze where I was. Where is he? I don’t know! Again, I could hear nothing but the river. Was Kyle alone? Was someone waiting by the door to catch me when he herded me around the pool? How close was Kyle now? I felt the hairs on my arms and legs standing on end. There was some kind of pressure in the air, as though I could feel his silent movements. The door. I half turned, easing back in the direction I’d come, away from where I’d heard the breath. He couldn’t wait forever. The little he’d said told me he was in a hurry. Someone could come at any time. Odds were on his side, though. There were fewer who would be inclined to stop him than there were who might think this was for the best. And of those inclined to stop him, even fewer who’d have much of a chance of doing that. Only Jeb and his gun would make a difference. Jared was at least as strong as Kyle, but Kyle was more motivated. Jared would probably not fight him now. Another noise. Was that a footstep by the door? Or just my imagination? How long had this silent standoff lasted? I couldn’t guess how many seconds or minutes had passed. Get ready. Melanie knew that the stalling would soon be at an end. She wanted me to clench the rock tighter. But I would give flight a chance first. I would not be an effective fighter, even if I could bring myself to try. Kyle was probably twice my weight, and he had a much longer reach. I raised the hand with the pebbles and aimed them toward the back passage to the latrine. Maybe I could make him think that I was going to hide and hope for rescue. I threw the handful of small stones and shied away from the noise when they clattered against the rock wall. The breath at the door again, the sound of a light footfall headed toward my decoy. I edged as quietly along the wall as I could. What if there are two? I don’t know. I was almost to the exit. If I could just make the tunnel, I thought I could outrun him. I was lighter and fast†¦ I heard a footstep, very clearly this time, disrupting the stream in the back of the room. I crept faster. A gigantic splash shattered the tense standoff. Water pelted my skin, making me gasp. It spattered against the wall in a wave of wet sound. He’s coming through the pool! Run! I hesitated just a second too long. Big fingers clutched at my calf, my ankle. I yanked against the pull, lurching forward. I stumbled, and the momentum that threw me down to the floor made his fingers slip. He caught my sneaker. I kicked it off, leaving it in his hand. I was down, but he was down, too. It gave me enough time to scramble forward, ripping my knees against the rough stone. Kyle grunted, and his hand clutched at my naked heel. There was nothing to catch hold of; I slid free again. I wrenched myself forward, pulling to my feet with my head still down, every second in danger of falling again because my body was moving almost parallel to the floor. I kept my balance through sheer force of will. There was no one else. No one to catch me at the exit to the outer room. I sprinted forward, hope and adrenaline surging in my veins. I burst into the river room at full speed, my only thought to reach the tunnel. I could hear Kyle’s heavy breath close behind but not close enough. With each step, I pushed harder against the ground, throwing myself ahead of him. Pain lanced through my leg, crumpling it. Over the babble of the river, I heard two heavy stones hit the ground and roll-the one I’d been clutching and the one he’d thrown to cripple me. My leg twisted under me, spinning me backward to the ground, and in the same second he was on top of me. His weight knocked my head against the rock in a ringing blow and pinned me flat against the floor. No leverage. Scream! The air blew out of me in a siren of sound that surprised us all. My wordless shriek was more than I’d hoped for-surely someone would hear it. Please let that someone be Jeb. Please let him have the gun. â€Å"Uhng!† Kyle protested. His hand was big enough to cover most of my face. His palm mashed against my mouth, cutting off my scream. He rolled then, and the motion so took me by surprise that I had no time to try to find an advantage in it. He pulled me swiftly over and under and over his body. I was dizzy and confused, my head still spinning, but I understood as soon as my face hit the water. His hand locked on the back of my neck, forcing my face into the shallow stream of cooler water that wound its way into the bathing pool. It was too late to hold my breath. I’d already inhaled a mouthful of water. My body panicked when the water hit my lungs. Its flailing was stronger than he’d expected. My limbs all jerked and thrashed in different directions, and his grip on my neck slipped. He tried to get a better hold, and some instinct made me pull myself into him rather than away, as he was expecting. I only pulled half a foot closer to him, but that got my chin out of the stream, and enough of my mouth to choke some of the water back out and drag in a breath. He fought to push me back into the stream, but I wriggled and wedged myself under him so that his own weight was working against his goal. I was still reacting to the water in my lungs, coughing and spasming out of control. â€Å"Enough!† Kyle growled. He pulled himself off me, and I tried to drag myself away. â€Å"Oh, no, you don’t!† he spit through his teeth. It was over, and I knew it. There was something wrong with my injured leg. It felt numb, and I couldn’t make it do what I wanted. I could only push myself along the floor with my arms and my good leg. I was coughing too hard to do even that well. Too hard to scream again. Kyle grabbed my wrist and yanked me up from the floor. The weight of my body made my leg buckle, and I slumped into him. He got both my wrists in one hand and wrapped the other arm around my waist. He pulled me off the floor and into his side, like an awkward bag of flour. I twisted, and my good leg kicked against the empty air. â€Å"Let’s get this over with.† He jumped over the smaller stream with a bound and carried me toward the closest sinkhole. The steam from the hot spring washed my face. He was going to throw me into the dark, hot hole and let the boiling water pull me into the ground as it burned me. â€Å"No, no!† I shouted, my voice too hoarse and low to carry. I writhed frantically. My knee knocked against one of the ropy rock columns, and I hooked my foot around it, trying to yank myself out of his grip. He jerked me free with an impatient grunt. At least that loosened his hold enough that I could make one more move. It had worked before, so I tried it again. Instead of trying to free myself, I twisted in and wrapped my legs around his waist, locking the good ankle around the bad, trying to ignore the pain so that I could get a good hold there. â€Å"Get off me, you -† He fought to knock me loose, and I jerked one of my wrists free. I wrapped that arm around his neck and grabbed his thick hair. If I was going into the black river, so was he. Kyle hissed and stopped prying at my leg long enough to punch my side. I gasped in pain but got my other hand into his hair. He wrapped both arms around me, as if we were embracing rather than locked in a killing struggle. Then he grabbed my waist from both sides and heaved with all his strength against my hold. His hair started to come out in my hands, but he just grunted and pulled harder. I could hear the steaming water rushing close by, right below me, it seemed. The steam billowed up in a thick cloud, and for a minute I couldn’t see anything but Kyle’s face, twisted with rage into something beastlike and merciless. I felt my bad leg giving. I tried to pull myself closer to him, but his brute strength was winning against my desperation. He would have me free in a moment, and I would fall into the hissing steam and disappear. Jared! Jamie! The thought, the agony, belonged to both Melanie and me. They would never know what had happened to me. Ian. Jeb. Doc. Walter. No goodbyes. Kyle abruptly jumped into the air and came down with a thud. The jarring impact had the effect he wanted: my legs came loose. But before he could take advantage, there was another result. The cracking sound was deafening. I thought the whole cave was coming down. The floor shuddered beneath us. Kyle gasped and jumped back, taking me-hands still locked in his hair-with him. The rock under his feet, with more cracking and groaning, began to crumble away. Our combined weight had broken the brittle lip of the hole. As Kyle stumbled away, the crumbling followed his heavy steps. It was faster than he was. A piece of the floor disappeared from under his heel, and he went down with a thud. My weight pushed him back hard, and his head smacked sharply against a stone pillar. His arms fell away from me, limp. The cracking of the floor settled into a sustained groan. I could feel it shiver beneath Kyle’s body. I was on his chest. Our legs dangled above empty space, the steam condensing into a million drops on our skin. â€Å"Kyle?† There was no answer. I was afraid to move. You’ve got to get off him. You’re too heavy together. Carefully-use the pillar. Pull away from the hole. Whimpering in fear, too terrified to think for myself, I did as Melanie ordered. I freed my fingers from Kyle’s hair and climbed gingerly over his unconscious form, using the pillar as an anchor to pull myself forward. It felt steady enough, but the floor still moaned under us. I pulled myself past the pillar and onto the ground beyond it. This ground stayed firm under my hands and knees, but I scrambled farther away, toward the safety of the exit tunnel. There was another crack, and I glanced back. One of Kyle’s legs drooped farther down as a rock fell from beneath it. I heard the splash this time as the chunk of stone met the river below. The ground shuddered under his weight. He’s going to fall, I realized. Good, Melanie snarled. But†¦! If he falls, he can’t kill us, Wanda. If he doesn’t fall, he will. I can’t just†¦ Yes, you can. Walk away. Don’t you want to live? I did. I wanted to live. Kyle could disappear. And if he did, there was a chance that no one would ever hurt me again. At least not among the people here. There was still the Seeker to consider, but maybe she would give up someday, and then I could stay here indefinitely with the humans I loved†¦ My leg throbbed, pain replacing some of the numbness. Warm fluid trickled down my lips. I tasted the moisture without thinking and realized it was my blood. Walk away, Wanderer. I want to live. I want a choice, too. I could feel the tremors from where I stood. Another piece of floor splashed into the river. Kyle’s weight shifted, and he slid an inch toward the hole. Let him go. Melanie knew better than I what she was talking about. This was her world. Her rules. I stared at the face of the man who was about to die-the man who wanted me dead. With him unconscious, Kyle’s face was no longer that of an angry animal. It was relaxed, almost peaceful. The resemblance to his brother was very apparent. No! Melanie protested. I crawled back to him on my hands and knees-slowly, feeling the ground with care before each inch I moved. I was too afraid to go beyond the pillar, so I hooked my good leg around it, an anchor again, and leaned around to wedge my hands under Kyle’s arms and over his chest. I heaved so hard I nearly pulled my arms from their sockets, but he didn’t move. I heard a sound like the trickle of sand through an hourglass as the floor continued to dissolve into tiny pieces. I yanked again, but the only result was that the trickle sped up. Shifting his weight was breaking the floor faster. Just as I thought that, a large chunk of rock plummeted into the river, and Kyle’s precarious balance was overthrown. He began to fall. â€Å"No!† I screamed, the siren bursting from my throat again. I flattened myself against the column and managed to pin him to the other side, locking my hands around his wide chest. My arms ached. â€Å"Help me!† I shrieked. â€Å"Somebody! Help!† How to cite The Host Chapter 32: Ambushed, Essay examples

Compare and Contrast The Two Wives free essay sample

In the play Othello the Moor of Venice by William Shakespeare., there are two prominent women that grab and hold our attention. One is the wife of the play’s heroic character Othello; the other is engaged to an untrustworthy man named Iago. The women are part of, but yet serve as a small piece of what goes on in the play and which is how the conflict of the play finally comes to an agreement. These two feminine figures of the play can be compared and contrasted in more than one way. A key to understanding the two women is to understand their husbands: Desdomana is married to Othello, a general in the Army who is trusted with great authority by the Venetian government. Othello is the protagonist in the play, and falls victim to the manipulations of Emilia’s husband Iago, the antagonist. In fact, Iago is considered by many to be one of the lowliest characters in all of Shakespeare. Although he is Othello’s ensign and is assumed by Othello to be loyal to him, Iago actually truly despises Othello. Throughout the play, Iago undermines Othello’s trust of Desdemona as a faithful wife. Iago uses many of the characters in the play and plots in multiple ways to manipulate Othello, turning him against his wife when, in fact, she does nothing to earn the distrust that Iago causes Othello to feel. Iago does such an excellent job of this that Othello is engulfed by jealousy, yet the scenario portrayed by Iago is a total fabrication.. What are the differences between the lovely Desdomana and the beautiful Emilia? Desdemona is of nobility and the wife of the powerful Othello. On the other hand, Emilia is the wife of Iago. Emilia is the maid servant to Desdomana, just as Iago is the Ensign reporting to Othello. The two women have many variances in the way they talk and act. As indicated, both Desdemona and Emilia are wives of men who serve in the Venetian military who serve in battle fields. Their husbands are both officers in the military, as opposed to common soldiers serving as  enlisted soldiers. However, Othello is the commander of the Venetian forces whereas Iago is simply something of a glorified errand boy. The reporting relationship between Othello and Iago is the same as the relationship between Desdemona and Emilia, Iago’s wife. On the one hand, Emilia is Desdomonas property, basically a slave whereas Desdemona is a woman of high regard and Emilia obviously is not. This is demonstrated in the ways that they speak and conduct themselves. Desdemona speaks eloquently and uses metaphors when speaking, but Emilia uses much more commonplace speech, methodical and typical of use by the multitudes of the lower class, characteristic of the time period during in which the play takes place. As an example of this, Desdamona’s way of expressing herself can be shown by quoting her. She says, â€Å" Faith, that’s with watching; twill away again. Let me but blind it hard, within this hour it will be well.† (III.III. 11-13) Her word s are spoken with elegance and purpose and contain a great deal of meaning. In contrast, Emilia words express things in a much more commonplace manner. Emilia says, â€Å"I am glad I have found this napkin; This was her first remembrance of the Moor, My wayward husband hath a hundred times wooed me to steal it. (As an aside, Emilia is referring to part of Iago’s plot to make Othello jealous); For she loves the token (For he conjured her she should ever keep it) That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and to talk.† (III.III. 17-23) Although Shakespearian, a review of what she says seems to be more slang like than the formal speech of Desdomona. This difference in speech exemplifies the nature of their personalities. Desdomona is very proper and even proud-sounding because of her nobility, and Emilia comes across as a humble maid servant, which is exactly what she was. Each of them used their way of speaking in a manner that is in true form to their positions in Venetian society. A significant difference between Desdemona and Emilia is reflected in their morals. This is best shown in their intent to be faithful t o their husbands. Desdemona has never even thought of engaging sexually with anyone other than Othello, but at some point in the play Emilia admits that she would be unfaithful to Iago in the right circumstances. It is in this part of the play that Desdemona tells her father. (Aside: Iago’s plot was to convince Desdomona’s father that Othello had in fact kidnapped her when in fact he wooed her and won her as an ideal wife.) Desdemona explains that she was in no way taken by Othello, and  explains just how much she loves him. â€Å"My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter: but heres my husband, And so much duty as my mother showd to you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess due to the Moor my lord. (I.III.28-37) . In this part of the play Iago indicates his low opinion of Emilia. â€Å"To have a foolish wife.† (III.III.32) This would speak of their bitter and untrustworthy love for each other, because they both are dishonest. By contrast, this is the exact opposite of the loving and trusting (at least initially) relationship between Desdemona and Othello. Another dissimilarity between Desdemona and Emilia is in the level of maturity and their personalities because of the contrasting life experiences each woman has had. It would almost seem as Desdemona and Othello are more innocent and trustworthy than Emilia and Iago, quite the cunning couple who could not be trusted by each other or by anyone else. Although both intelligent and educated individuals, Othello and Desdemona seem almost naà ¯ve in comparison. Desdemona exhibits how naive her ideas of life and marriage are when compared to the warped and selfish thinking of Emilia. The latter has been though a lot and the reader can tell she’s had a much rougher life than the noble upbringing experienced by Desdemona. Given this upright background of character, Desdemona wants to honor and love Othello. On the other hand, Emilia and Iago have a corrupt relationship that includes distrust and resentment and thoughts of immorality and adultery if given the chance. They obviously are incapable of the love and the passion that Desdemona and Othello have for each other. It is shown well here in the play that Desdemona seems blind to the world of deception and lies. â€Å"O heavy ignorance!thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed,one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?† (II.I.8-11) Emilia clearly states here thoughts and views of marriage. â€Å"In truth, I think I should; and undot when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but for all the whole world,—uds pity, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory fort.† (IV.III.12-16) In other  words, Emilia seems open to dishonest and disloyal activities if given the chance. These two verses of the play make it easy t o see their different both their views of marriage and their level of maturity. As with most Shakespearian works, Othello is filled with hate and love, rich and poor, and life and death. Although substantially different in their nature, Desdemona and Emilia are still alike in a number of ways. They are both blessed with beauty and both are married to military men. In the end, both women it seems are victims of Iago’s devious plots and both of them die as a result. However, their differences are much more substantial than their similarities. Desdemona has had a life of privilege in the noble class, and as a result, she is more sophisticated, speaks articulately, and is more proper in her self-presentation. Her lack of having had some of the harsh realities of Emilia’s life does, however, leave her somewhat naà ¯ve in the world of the underhanded Iago. Given Emilia’s place as a slave in Venetian society, it is not surprising that she has a much more commonplace way of expressing herself. The flaws in her character – her dishonest nature and her cunning – place her in stark contrast to Desdemona. One final similarity is that, although it has been mentioned that Desdemona shows a certain amount of naivetà ©, both Emilia and Desdemona seem quite a bit in the dark to realizing the nasty politics and demonic maneuvers of the scoundrel Iago. They both are fooled before they can stop from falling victim to their deaths at the hands of their husbands, both of which are directly caused by Iago’s hatred for Othello.