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Diana Athill Diana Athill. That is not an exaggeration. They were bleak moments. The reason for it was banal. My childhood and teenage years had been very happy so I was a young woman who expected the answer "Yes".
He was stationed in Egypt. After three months he stopped answering my letters. His silence endured for month after month, reducing me to a swamp of incredulous misery, until at last a letter came, asking me to release him from our engagement because he was marrying someone else.
Doing that was what, as a woman, I was for. And this I had failed to do.
I did, of course, see that the man had behaved badly, cruelly in fact, in leaving me in limbo without any explanation for so long, until I guessed being advised that he ought to guard against me "making trouble".
And I was not that woman. Many years that might have been good ones were turned grey, but they did force me into some very useful knowledge: And the clearer this became to me, the more colour was restored to my life. Bit by bit, enjoyable sex crept back into it. It was the writing that really put an end to failure.
In the early s nine stories "happened" to me. I say "happened" because I did not decide to write them, but suddenly felt a peculiar sort of itch, which produced them.
One of them won the Observer's short-story prize. I was told that I'd won it on my birthday, in December, and having submitted the story in March I had forgotten about it.
Two thousand stories, and mine had been judged the best! Almost at once I started the most satisfying relationship of my life, which lasted for 40 years until it was ended by the illness of the man I was living with.
When sometimes during those years I stood back and passed judgment on my life, I saw it as happy. And that is still true, because when love-happiness faded out, writing-happiness took over.
I had enjoyed writing three books during the s and early 70s, and had then, with only mild regret, ceased to write. Perhaps as one advances into second childhood one recovers something of first childhood's appetite for treats. Which is something to remember if you happen to be experiencing it.
Margaret Atwood Margaret Atwood. Who told us we had to succeed at any cost? But my own personal failure list? Sewing failures, to begin with. It made me look like a street waif, and caused my mother to hide her eyes every time I ventured out the door in it.
Or maybe you'd prefer a few academic failures? My bad Latin mark in Grade 12, my 51 in Algebra? Or my failure to learn touch-typing: But such adolescent slippages come within the normal range.
Something more epic, perhaps? Much time expended, many floor-pacings and scribblings, nothing achieved; or, as they say in Newfoundland, a wet arse and no fish caught. There have been several of those. Let's take Blakeney, Norfolk, in the winter of I admire a lot of people but the person I admire the most is my father.
This is because my father is the one who knows what is best for me. He is . The person I admire is my mother because she also became as our father, who stood beside us when we were confronted by violent hazards.
Whenever there were threats against us, our mother transformed herself into a superwoman, who bravely defended us against negative elements of the society. My Father: The Person I Admire Most Over time, there have been several people who have influenced various aspects of my life, based on their personal characteristics, accomplishments, and values.
I have been privileged to have had numerous teachers and professors who I respect for their patience and intelligence. I think love is when you feel nervous, but not nervous, and the way that the person makes you feel, like a different feeling.
Somtimes you hate this feeling because it's new, and want to push it away, but then you realize that you kind of miss that feeling and wish to feel it again, and always want's to be near that person and feel this feeling.
l My mom does it all 2nd place $ By Nancy Vo, El Monte HS. W hen I saw the headline in L.A. Youth that said, “Who do you admire?” there was no doubt in my mind who I wanted to write about.
My mom. Well, to start off, my mom was not born anywhere near the U.S. She was born on the other side of the world: Hanoi, Vietnam. My Mother, the Person I Admire the Most Essay Sample I admire a lot of people but the person I admire the most is my mother.
She is the most important person in my life.