Answer:
<em>Here </em><em>is </em><em>ur </em><em>answer</em>
<em>It </em><em>is </em><em>said </em><em>that </em><em>books </em><em>are </em><em>the </em><em>best </em><em>friends</em><em> </em><em>is </em><em>a </em><em>person</em><em>.</em>
<em>In </em><em>fact</em><em> </em><em>,</em><em> initially</em><em> </em><em>I </em><em>was </em><em>not </em><em>pretty </em><em>interested</em><em> </em><em>in </em><em>books </em><em>.</em><em>But </em><em>as </em><em>I </em><em>grew </em><em>up,</em><em> </em><em>my </em><em>affection </em><em>for </em><em>books </em><em>grew </em><em>too</em>
<em> </em><em>Nowadays,</em><em> </em><em>it's</em><em> </em><em>not </em><em>that </em><em>I </em><em>get</em><em> </em><em>chance </em><em>to </em><em>read </em><em>books </em><em>everyday </em><em>.</em><em>But </em><em>I </em><em>would</em><em> </em><em>love </em><em>to </em><em>throwback</em><em> </em><em>to </em><em>those </em><em>time </em><em>when </em><em>I </em><em>used </em><em>to </em><em>lazily </em><em>lie </em><em>down </em><em>on </em><em>my </em><em>bed </em><em>with </em><em>a </em><em>book </em><em>and </em><em>packet </em><em>of</em><em> </em><em>snacks.I </em><em>have </em><em>exposed</em><em> </em><em>myself </em><em>to </em><em>varieties</em><em> </em><em>of </em><em>storybooks</em><em> </em><em>and </em><em>many </em><em>have </em><em>been </em><em>etched </em><em>on </em><em>my </em><em>heart.</em>
Wait a second what’s is the name of the passage
Wait a second what’s is the name of the passage Wait a second what’s is the name of the Wait a second what’s is the name of the passage
Wait a second what’s is the name of the passage
Answer:
to explain
Explanation:
i know it. Why is this section even on here?
The answer is: [C]: "the poet's sorrow and despair" .
____________________________________________________
Refer to the entire poem:
____________________________________________________
"The Guitar" by Federico Garcia Lorca
The weeping of the guitar
<span> begins.
The goblets of dawn are
smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps
monotonously
as water weeps
as the wind weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
evening without morning
and the first dead bird
on the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
by five swords.
_____________________________________________________
</span>
Answer:
Hyperbole
Explanation:
He can't actually make the earth shake by hammering something