Answer:
Whenever the author uses the word <em>American </em>with quotation marks, it is to ridicule the Americanized people who started believing they are truly American and decided to leave behind their heritage and history. The author, Anzia Yezierska, talks about how she finally moved to America in order to pursue her dreams, happiness, and financial stability, and started living with and working for a family from the same Polish village she comes from. The family completely forgot about where they come from and pretended they were truly American, or rather "American" as Yezierska would put it.
Through this usage, we can see how quickly the author's thoughts and feelings about the "land of freedom" changed. She moved there in order to earn her own money and finally be happy. However, what she encountered was loneliness, misunderstanding, shame, hatred, inadequacy, etc. which she wasn't hoping for. Therefore, her feelings about America shifted from childish exhilaration towards sad acceptance and ultimately hatred.
<span>Thomas Jefferson was just telling the king of England that colonial America was no longer part of Britain.</span>
Answer:
Within a small chamber, an internal combustion engine combines a precisely measured mix of fuel (typically petrol or diesel) and air. Once ignited, this explosive combination causes an expansion of hot, pressurized gases to exit the chamber, typically via pistons or a turbine. Thus the chemical energy is converted, albeit often not very efficiently, into mechanical energy which can then be used to power motors and drive machines.
<span>Squire
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
A lover and a lusty bachelor,
With locks well curled, as if they'd laid in press.
Some twenty years of age he was, I guess.
In stature he was of an average length,
Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength.
He'd ridden sometime with the cavalry
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy,
And borne him well within that little space
In hope to win thereby his lady's grace.
Prinked out he was, as if he were a mead,
All full of fresh-cut flowers white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide.
Well could be sit on horse, and fairly ride.
He could make songs and words thereto indite,
Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write.
So hot he loved that, while night told her tale,
He slept no more than does a nightingale.
Courteous he, and humble, willing and able,
And carved before his father at the table.</span>
