<h3><em>Answer:</em></h3><h3><em>Answer:People can become actors because they can have lots of talent. They can inspire people to try things because people are scared of doing things. And people can try new things to learn how to be better at it. people also get more money as you get better and better at single danceing ect. Then they can use that money to buy anything they need or want.</em></h3><h3 />
Answer:
<u>B. My day at school was a marathon and a triathlon combined.</u>
Explanation:
The other three choices are things that could be true.
A day cannot feel like a marathon, so option B is using figurative language.
Since the rest of us can't read minds, we are more influenced by the actions of others than by their thoughts.
This is pretty safe because people do tend to act on their most dearly held thoughts and beliefs.
Thoughts don't really change the world the way the actions they influence do.
Commons
“How did Faulkner pull it off?” is a question many a fledgling writer has asked themselves while struggling through a period of apprenticeship like that novelist John Barth describes in his 1999 talk "My Faulkner." Barth “reorchestrated” his literary heroes, he says, “in search of my writerly self... downloading my innumerable predecessors as only an insatiable green apprentice can.” Surely a great many writers can relate when Barth says, “it was Faulkner at his most involuted and incantatory who most enchanted me.” For many a writer, the Faulknerian sentence is an irresistible labyrinth. His syntax has a way of weaving itself into the unconscious, emerging as fair to middling imitation.
While studying at Johns Hopkins University, Barth found himself writing about his native Eastern Shore Maryland in a pastiche style of “middle Faulkner and late Joyce.” He may have won some praise from a visiting young William Styron, “but the finished opus didn’t fly—for one thing, because Faulkner intimately knew his Snopses and Compsons and Sartorises, as I did not know my made-up denizens of the Maryland marsh.” The advice to write only what you know may not be worth much as a universal commandment. But studying the way that Faulkner wrote when he turned to the subjects he knew best provides an object lesson on how powerful a literary resource intimacy can be
