<span>Although we see these values, we must also recognize the tremendous double standard between genders at play here. That Homer never reproaches Odysseus for his extracurricular romances but condemns the unfaithful women in the poem recalls Calypso’s angry statement about the double standard for immortals: male gods are allowed to take mortal lovers, while female goddesses are not. Likewise, men such as Odysseus have some freedom to "wander" sexually during their geographical wanderings -- so long as they are ultimately faithful to their home -- while Penelope and the other women in The Odyssey are chastised for their lack of chastity. Indeed, Odysseus does remain true to Penelope in his heart, and his desire to reunite with her drives his faithful journey. Fidelity is also central at the end of the poem, when Odysseus tests the loyalties of his servants and punishes those who have betrayed him.</span>
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1)British believed that most Southerners were Loyalists and that if they gained territory in the South, the Southern Loyalists would hold it for them. ... 3) Southern seaports were closer to the British West Indies colonies- if they could capture Southern ports, they could easily move troops back and forth.
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They will be found in old places that didn't got to change
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I think the answer is three: people are required to care for those around them.
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I hope this helps :)
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Quick question- which conflict is this? I wrote this based on the recent one.
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If I die, let this diary be a reminder of my life, and why peace must be valued above all else.
My father taught me to read and write before he died. My mother is dead too. I am the only one left. I guess that I am lucky to have been taught these things. Many other little children aren’t. It used to feel like a curse, but now it feels like a blessing. I am able to express myself on the page in a way I was never able to do with speech.
I am alone, crouched in a corner of a refugee camp. All around me are scenes of horror, of death. Children sitting alone, like me, and grown-ups my grandpas’ age rocking themselves gently, turned mad by the explosions. I feel a bit mad too. The nurse comes up to me and takes me gently by the hand. ”What are you writing?” She askes me gently. I tell her that I am writing a promise. I will never let this happen again to my people. The nurse hugs me as the pen and paper fall from my hands, and as I am called into the light.