The Longevity of the Persian Empire

The original Persian (or Achaemenid) empire, as established by Cyrus the Great in the 6th century B.C., only lasted approximately 200 years until the death of Darius III in 330 B.C., following his defeat by Alexander the Great. The core territories of the empire were then ruled by Macedonian dynasties, primarily the Seleucids, until the late 2nd century BC. During the early 2nd century B.C., however, the Parthians (who were not Persians but rather descended from a branch of the Scythians) set up a new kingdom in eastern Iran, originally in a breakaway province of the Seleucid empire. Over the next half-century, they gradually took over much of the rest of what had once been Persian-controlled territory, adding Media, Persia, and Babylonia to their holdings. Roman writers of the early imperial period sometimes refer to this or that emperor going to war with Persia, but this is really a poetic or archaic way of referring to the Parthian kingdom. Sassanid Dynasty The Parthians (also referred to as the Arsacid dynasty) remained in control until the early 3rd century A.D., but by that time their state was seriously weakened by in-fighting and they were overthrown by the native Persian Sassanid dynasty, who were militant Zoroastrians. According to Herodian, the Sassanids laid claim to all the territory once ruled by the Achaemenids (much of which was now in Roman hands) and, at least for propaganda purposes, decided to pretend that the 550 years since the death of Darius III had never happened. They continued to whittle away at Roman territory for the next 400 years, eventually coming to control most of the provinces once ruled by Cyrus et al. This all fell apart, however, when the Roman emperor Heraclius launched a successful counter-invasion in A.D. 623-628, which threw the Persian state into total chaos from which it never recovered. Shortly afterward, the Muslim hordes invaded and Persia lost its independence until the 16th century when the Safavid dynasty came to power. Facade of Continuity The Shahs of Iran maintained the pretense of an unbroken continuity from the days of Cyrus, and the last one holding a huge pageant in 1971 to celebrate the 2500th anniversary of the Persian empire, but he wasnt fooling anyone familiar with the history of the region. While the Persian Empire seems to have eclipsed all others, Persia was a great power in 400 B.C. and controlled much of the Ionian coast. We also hear of Persia much later at the time of Hadrian and, by all accounts, Rome avoided prolonged conflict with this rival power.

Essay on Feminist Ideas in Margaret Atwoods The...

Feminist Ideas in Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale For this essay, we focused strictly on critics reactions to Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale. For the most part, we found two separate opinions about The Handmaids Tale, concerning feminism. One opinion is that it is a feminist novel, and the opposing opinion that it is not. Feminism: A doctrine advocating social, political, and economic rights for women equal to those of men as recorded in Websters Dictionary. This topic is prevalent in the novel The Handmaids Tale. Margaret Atwood, a Canadian writer, spends most of her time featuring women in her books, novels, and poetry that examine their relationships in society. In the book Atwood centers her novel on a girl whom†¦show more content†¦Atwood used Offred to express her ideas on pornography. Atwood obviously does not like it. But, in another sense, she emphasizes the fact that Aunt Lydia lies to Offred and the others when saying that it is how life used to be. Atwood never disregards the fact that women have been misre presented both by themselves and by men. She is careful to go through the whole novel placing no blame, and leaving the questions to the reader. How did this society get to this point? Could this really happen? Are we doing anything to prevent it? In the novel there is no real one strong force. Especially no male or female dominant role, which makes it hard to decide who is to blame. Feminism is clear throughout the book, and Atwood represents women very well. Many readers have questioned the novels character as a feminist critique. The Handmaids Tale delivers a conservative interpretation of womens ideal social actions, advocating what looks more like traditional femininity, rather than revolutionary feminism. Atwoods main character, Offred, has fantasies of being free. But Offreds vision of freedom is very un-feministic. For instance, at the beginning on The Handmaids Tale, Offred dreams of things she is sometimes allowed to do, such as help to bake bread. Or I would help Rita make the bread, sinking my hands into that soft resistant warmth which is so much like flesh (11).Show MoreRelatedMargaret Atwood : A Social Activist1225 Words   |  5 PagesMargaret Atwood: a Social Activist Through Feminist Literature The 1980s signified the continuation of an era of social and political upheaval in the United States of America. At the forefront was a socially conservative agenda that aimed to rescind women’s rights only ratified less than a decade before, a marked display of the nation’s desire to uphold traditional values that defined the preceding generation (Franà §oise). Among the devastating political climate, however, was Margaret Atwood:Read MoreThe Characters of Women in The Handmaids Tale and The Bell Jar1504 Words   |  7 Pages Women in The Handmaids Tale and The Bell Jar nbsp; Sylvia Plaths renowned autobiographical legend The Bell Jar and Margaret Atwoods fictional masterpiece The handmaids tale are the two emotional feminist stories, which basically involve the womens struggle. Narrated with a touching tone and filled with an intense feminist voice, both novels explore the conflict of their respective protagonists in a male dominated society. In spite of several extraordinary similarities in termsRead More Feminism In The Handmaids Tale Essay1588 Words   |  7 PagesFeminism In The Handmaids Tale      Ã‚  Ã‚   Feminism as we know it began in the mid 1960s as the Womens Liberation Movement. Among its chief tenants is the idea of womens empowerment, the idea that women are capable of doing and should be allowed to do anything men can do. Feminists believe that neither sex is naturally superior. They stand behind the idea that women are inherently just as strong and intelligent as the so-called stronger sex. Many writers have taken up the cause of feminismRead MoreThe Handmaid s Tale By Margaret Atwood1709 Words   |  7 PagesOne of Atwood’s bestselling novel is The Handmaid’s Tale, a disturbing dystopian fiction novel. The Handmaid’s Tale is a complex tale of a woman’s life living in a society that endorses sexual slavery and inequality through oppression and fear. The female characters in Margaret Atwood’s novel demonstrates how these issues affects women’s lives. Offred is the individual with whom we sympathize and experience t hese issues. In The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood addresses her perception of the ongoingRead MoreEssay on The Dystopia in Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale1098 Words   |  5 PagesThe Dystopia in Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale Offred is a Handmaid in what used to be the United States, now the theocratic Republic of Gilead. In order to create Gileads idea of a more perfect society, they have reverted to taking the Book of Genesis at its word. Women no longer have any privileges; they cannot work, have their own bank accounts, or own anything. The also are not allowed to read or even chose who they want to marry. Women are taught that they should be subservientRead MoreFeminism In The Handmaids Tale1709 Words   |  7 Pagesof Gilead, a dystopian world with a patriarchal society, is displayed in Atwood’s, The Handmaid’s Tale. More specifically, the novel takes place in what used to be considered the United States but is now being called the Republic of Gilead where freedoms and rights have been excluded, especially for women. The society nurtures a â€Å"theocratic, patriarchal, nightmare world created by men, with the complicity of women† (â€Å"Margaret (Eleanor) Atwood†). The separation of the freedoms between the genders createdRead MoreShort Story By Margaret Atwood1031 Words   |  5 PagesMargaret Atwood once said, â€Å"I spent much of my childhood in northern Quebec, and often there was no radio, no television - there wasn’t a lot to entertain us. When it rained, I stayed inside reading, writing, drawing.† Born on November 18, 1939, she spent half her childhood moving to different places for her father’s study of entomology (insects). She obtained her love of writing through the different experiences that traveling provided as well as the encouragement of her parents. Though she didRead MoreThe Handmaid s Tale Of Women1858 Words   |  8 PagesParents typically don’t want their children reading in depth books about sex; however, The Handmaid’s Tale offers great fictional examples that teach sexism and the mistreatment of women, yet these examples can lead some in the wrong way. Therefore depending on the view in society, The Handmaid’s tale should be banned or kept to certain areas of the world because of the unfair treatment of women. The Handmaid’s Tale is about Offered as she shares her thoughts and experiences in a journal-like form andRead MoreThemes in Literature991 Words   |  4 Pagesparticular example of this occurrance can be seen in Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and William Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. Although these works have been written in very different time periods and use separate styles, there are two themes which link both stories and convey a very similar message. Strict societal roles and the treatment of women in patriarchal societies are prevalent ideas in both Shakespeare’s play and Atwood’s novel. These themes are approached and dealt with differentlyRead MoreThe Handmaid s Tale By Margaret Atwood1516 Words   |  7 PagesThe Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood, explores the idea of physical and mental oppression through hierarchy, patriarchy, manipulation of history, surveillance and finally, community identity; hence t he main character’s name â€Å"Offred† or ‘Of-Fred’ if you will. 1984, by George Orwell, covers this by including configuration of language; the characters have a new language called â€Å"Newspeak† and are also constantly watched by the government and the â€Å"Thought Police.† The hierarchy in The Handmaid’s Tale

Warm Bodies Chapter 1 Free Essays

string(31) " panicked commands to his men\." It’s time to feed again. I don’t know how long it’s been since our last hunting trip, probably just a few days, but I feel it. I feel the electricity in my limbs fizzling, fading. We will write a custom essay sample on Warm Bodies Chapter 1 or any similar topic only for you Order Now I see relentless visions of blood in my mind, that brilliant, mesmerising red, flowing through bright pink tissues in intricate webs and Pollock fractals, pulsing and vibrating with life. I find M in the food court talking to some girls. He is a little different from me. He does seem to enjoy the company of women, and his better-than-average diction draws them in like dazzled carp, but he keeps a distance. He laughs them off. The Boneys once tried to set him up with a wife, but he simply walked away. Sometimes I wonder if he has a philosophy. Maybe even a world view. I’d like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bite somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts. But he’s too much of a tough guy to ever be that vulnerable. ‘City,’ I say, putting a hand on my stomach. ‘Food.’ The girls he’s talking to look at me and shuffle away. I’ve noticed I make some people nervous. ‘Just . . . ate,’ M says, frowning at me a little. ‘Two days . . . ago.’ I grab my stomach again. ‘Feel empty. Feel . . . dead.’ He nods. ‘Marr . . . iage.’ I glare at him. I shake my head and clutch my stomach harder. ‘Need. Go . . . get others.’ He sighs and walks out, bumping into me hard on his way past, but I’m not sure if it’s intentional. He is, after all, a zombie. He manages to find a few others with appetites, and we form a small posse. Very small. Unsafely small. But I don’t care. I don’t recall ever being this hungry. We set out towards the city. We take the freeway. Like everything else, the roads are returning to nature. We wander down empty lanes and under ivy-curtained overpasses. My residual memories of these roads contrast dramatically with their peaceful present state. I take a deep breath of the sweet, silent air. We press further into the city than normal. The only scent I pick up is rust and dust. The unsheltered Living are getting scarcer, and the ones with shelter are venturing out less frequently. I suspect their stadium fortresses are becoming self-sufficient. I imagine vast gardens planted in the dugouts, bursting with carrots and beans. Cattle in the press box. Rice paddies in the outfield. We can see the largest of these citadels looming on the hazy horizon, its retractable roof open to the sun, taunting us. But, finally, we sense prey. The life scent electrifies our nostrils, abrupt and intense. They are very close, and there are a lot of them. Maybe close to half our own number. We hesitate, stumbling to a halt. M looks at me. He looks at our small group, then back at me. ‘No,’ he grunts. I point towards the crooked, collapsed skyscraper that’s emitting the aroma, like a cartoon tendril of scent beckoning come . . . ‘Eat,’ I insist. M shakes his head. ‘Too . . . many.’ ‘Eat.’ He looks at our group again. He sniffs the air. The rest of them are undecided. Some of them also sniff warily, but others are more single-minded like me. They groan and drool and snap their teeth. I’m getting agitated. ‘Need it!’ I shout, glaring at M. ‘Come . . . on.’ I turn and start speed-lumbering towards the sky-scraper. Focused thought. The rest of the group reflexively follows. M catches up and walks beside me, watching me with an uneasy grimace. Spurred to an unusual level of intensity by my desperate energy, our group crashes through the revolving doors and rushes down the dark hallways. Some earthquake or explosion has knocked out part of the foundation, and the entire high-rise leans at a dizzying, funhouse angle. It’s hard to navigate the zigzagging halls, and the inclines make it a challenge to even walk, but the scent is overpowering. After a few flights of stairs I start to hear them as well, clattering around and talking to each other in those steady, melodious streams of words. Living speech has always been a sonic pheromone to me, and I spasm briefly when it hits my ears. I’ve yet to meet another zombie who shares my appreciation for those silky rhythms. M thinks it’s a sick fetish. As we approach their level of the building, some of us start groaning loudly, and the Living hear us. One of them shouts the alarm and I hear guns cocking, but we don’t hesitate. We burst through a final door and rush them. M grunts when he sees how many there are, but he lunges with me at the nearest man and grabs his arms while I rip out his throat. The burning red taste of blood floods my mouth. The sparkle of life sprays out of his cells like citrus mist from an orange peel, and I suck it in. The darkness of the room is pulsing with gunfire, and by our standards we are grossly outnumbered – there are only three of us to every one of them – but something is tipping things in our favour. Our manic speed is uncharacteristic of the Dead, and our prey are not prepared for it. Is this all coming from me? Creatures without desire don’t move quickly, but they’re following my lead, and I am an angry whirlwind. What has come over me? Am I just having a bad day? There is one other factor working to our advantage. These Living are not seasoned veterans. They are young. Teenagers, mostly, boys and girls. One of them has such gruesome acne he’s likely to get shot by mistake in this flickering light. Their leader is a slightly older kid with a patchy beard, standing on a cubicle desk in the middle of the room and shouting panicked commands to his men. You read "Warm Bodies Chapter 1" in category "Essay examples" As they fall to the floor under the weight of our hunger, as dots of blood pointilise the walls, this boy leans protectively over a small figure crouched below him on the desk. A girl, young and blonde, bracing her bird-boned shoulder against her shotgun as she fires blindly into the dark. I lope across the room and grab the boy’s boots. I pull his feet out from under him and he falls, cracking his head on the edge of the desk. Without hesitation I pounce on him and bite through his neck. Then I dig my fingers into the crack in his skull, and prise his head open like an eggshell. His brain pulses hot and pink inside. I take a deep, wide, ravenous bite and – I am Perry Kelvin, a nine-year-old boy growing up in rural nowhere. The threats are all on some distant coast and we don’t worry about them here. Other than the emergency chain-link fence between the river and the mountain ridge, life is almost normal. I’m in school. I’m learning about George Washington. I’m riding my bike down dusty roads in shorts and a tank top, feeling the summer sun braise the back of my neck. My neck. My neck hurts, it – I am eating a slice of pizza with my mom and dad. It’s my birthday and they are doing what they can to treat me, though their money isn’t worth much any more. I’ve just turned eleven, and they’re finally taking me to see one of the countless zombie movies cropping up lately. I’m so excited I can barely taste my pizza. I take an oversized bite and the thick cheese sticks in my throat. I choke it back up and my parents laugh. Tomato sauce stains my shirt like – I am fifteen, gazing out the window at the looming walls of my new home. Clouded grey sunlight drifts down through the Stadium’s open roof. I’m at school again, listening to a lecture on salvage safety and trying not to stare at the beautiful girl sitting next to me. She has short, choppy blonde hair and blue eyes that dance with private amusement. My palms are sweating. My mouth is full of laundry lint. When the class ends, I catch her in the hall and say, ‘Hi.’ ‘Hi,’ she says. ‘I’m new here.’ ‘I know.’ ‘My name’s Perry.’ She smiles. ‘I’m Julie.’ She smiles. Her eyes glitter. ‘I’m Julie.’ She smiles. I glimpse her braces. Her eyes are classic novels and poetry. ‘I’m Julie,’ she says. She says – ‘Perry,’ Julie whispers in my ear as I kiss her neck. She twines her fingers into mine and squeezes hard. I kiss her deep and caress the back of her head with my free hand, tangling my fingers in her hair. I look her in the eyes. ‘Do you want to?’ I breathe. She smiles. She closes her eyes and says, ‘Yes.’ I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our ribcages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread. And now I’m older, wiser, gunning a motorcycle down a forgotten downtown boulevard. Julie is on the seat behind me, her arms clutching my chest, her legs wrapped around mine. Her aviators glint in the sun as she grins, showing her perfectly straight teeth. The grin is not mine to share any more, and I know this, I have accepted the way things are and the way things are going to be, even if she hasn’t and won’t. But at least I can protect her. At least I can keep her safe. She is so unbearably beautiful and sometimes I see a future with her in my head, but my head, my head hurts, oh God my head is – Stop. Who are you? Let the memories dissolve. Your eyes are crusted – blink them. Gasp in a ragged breath. You’re you again. You’re no one. Welcome back. I feel the carpet under my fingers. I hear the gunshots. I stand up and look around, dizzy and reeling. I have never had a vision so deep, like an entire life spooling through my head. The sting of tears burns in my eyes, but my ducts no longer have fluid. The feeling rages unquenched like pepper spray. It’s the first time I’ve felt pain since I died. I hear a scream nearby and I turn. It’s her. She’s here. Julie is here, older now, maybe nineteen, her baby fat melted away revealing sharper lines and finer poise, muscles small but toned on her girlish frame. She is huddled in a corner, unarmed, sobbing and screaming as M creeps towards her. He always finds the women. Their memories are porn to him. I still feel disorientated, unsure of where or who I am, but . . . I shove M aside and snarl, ‘No. Mine.’ He grits his teeth like he’s about to turn on me, but a gunshot tears into his shoulder and he shuffles across the room to help two other zombies bring down a heavily armed kid. I approach the girl. She cowers before me, her tender flesh offering me all the things I’m accustomed to taking, and my instincts start to reassert themselves. The urge to rip and tear surges into my arms and jaw. But then she screams again, and something inside me moves, a feeble moth struggling against a web. In this brief moment of hesitation, still warm with the nectar of a young man’s memories, I make a choice. I let out a gentle groan and inch towards the girl, trying to force kindness into my dull expression. I am not no one. I am a nine-year-old boy, I am a fifteen-year-old boy, I am – She throws a knife at my head. The blade sticks straight into the centre of my forehead and quivers there. But it has penetrated less than an inch, only grazing my frontal lobe. I pull it out and drop it. I hold out my hands, making soft noises through my lips, but I’m helpless. How do I appear unthreatening when her lover’s blood is running down my chin? I’m just a few feet away from her now. She is fumbling through her jeans for another weapon. Behind me, the Dead are finishing their butchery. Soon they will turn their attention to this dim corner of the room. I take a deep breath. ‘Ju . . . lie,’ I say. It rolls off my tongue like honey. I feel good just saying it. Her eyes go wide. She freezes. ‘Julie,’ I say again. I put out my hands. I point at the zombies behind me. I shake my head. She stares at me, making no sign that she understands. But when I reach out to touch her, she doesn’t move. And she doesn’t stab me. I reach my free hand into the head-wound of a fallen zombie and collect a palmful of black, lifeless blood. Slowly, with gentle movements, I smear it on her face, down her neck and onto her clothes. She doesn’t even flinch. She is probably catatonic. I take her hand and pull her to her feet. At that moment M and the others finish devouring their prey and turn to inspect the room. Their eyes fall on me. They fall on Julie. I walk towards them, gripping her hand, not quite dragging her. She staggers behind me, staring straight ahead. M sniffs the air cautiously. But I know he’s smelling exactly what I’m smelling: nothing. Just the negative-smell of Dead blood. It’s spattered all over the walls, soaked into our clothes, and smeared carefully on a young Living girl, concealing the glow of her life under its dark, overpowering musk. Without a word, we leave the high-rise and head back to the airport. I walk in a daze, full of strange and kaleidoscopic thoughts. Julie holds limply to my hand, staring at the side of my face with wide eyes, trembling lips. How to cite Warm Bodies Chapter 1, Essay examples

Sample Reflective Paragraph on Fuel and Energies

Question-Can Nuclear Power Be Used As An Effective And Viable Alternative To Fossil Fuels? The main aim of this assignment was to have a clear understanding between the nuclear power and the fossil fuels and also understand the advantages of nuclear power over fossil fuels. From the secondary research I have effectively analyzed the impact of fossil fuel on the environment. This assignment allowed me to understand that the due to consumption of fossil fuel there is an increase in the carbon dioxide (Co2) which is harming the environment where as when I gathered information about the Nuclear power, I analyzed that it is inexhaustible and produces energy that can sustain the world demand for energy and is also safer for the human health and environment. From this writing course, after receiving the feedback I analyzed that I am still lacking in making an effective writing. I need to work on my writing skills. Even I observed that I missed a few of the referencing that I have added as incite but missed to add up in my reference list. I also learnt that even though I might have done good research on the topic but lacked in effectively utilizing the information. For example I have used the figure of peak oil depletion but could not demonstrate the figure with the topic effectively (Linden and Whimbey, 2012). Thus, I need to make a proper action plan to improve my writing skill like focusing on grammar, spelling and structure of sentences I am using and also focus on referencing style. I need to learn how to effectively utilize the gathered information to make the writing more interesting and complete. REFERENCE Linden, M. and Whimbey, A. (2012). Why Johnny can't write. 3rd ed. Hillsdale, N.J.: L. Erlbaum.