AA Rose for Emily@ by William Faulkner [1897-1962] is on page 56 of Literature Reading Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and the Essay. Second Edition. Robert DiYanni. Pace University, Pleasantville. McGraw-Hill Publishing Company. 81990, 1986 by McGraw-Hill, Inc.
P 56 AWhen Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old manservant - a combined gardener and cook - had seen in at least ten years.@ Emily is a recluse and Faulkner uses dashes to set apart side comments.
P 56 AIt was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street.@ The house, the style, and the street seem to have fallen from grace. Perhaps she has too.
P 57 AThey were admitted by the old Negro into a dim hall from which a stairway mounted into still more shadow. It smelled of dust and disuse - a close, dank smell. The Negro led them into the parlor. It was furnished in heavy, leather-covered furniture. When the Negro opened the blinds of one window, they could see that the leather was cracked; and when they sat down, a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs, spinning with slow motes in the single sun-ray.@ She was once a very wealthy woman.
P 58 ASo she vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell. That was two years after her father=s death and a short time after her sweetheart - the one we believed would marry her - had deserted her. After her father=s death she went out very little; after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man - a young man then - going in and out with a market basket.@ She is not admired within the town; perhaps feared.
P 59 AWhen her father died, it got about that the house was all that was left to her; and in a way, people were glad. At last they could pity Miss Emily. Being left alone, and a pauper, she had become humanized. Now she too would know the old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.@ They felt disconnected from her in the beginning because they saw her as stuck-up. Later they felt disconnected too, just the same.
P 59 AWe did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will.@ As her father dominated her life; he may have also been her sense of direction. Consequently, upon his death, she no longer went out having no self-motivation for doing so.
P 59 AShe was sick for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows - sort of tragic and serene.@ Perhaps she found peace in her father=s death, as well as shock and apathy for the world.
P 60 AThe druggist looked down at her. She looked back at him, erect, her face like a strained flag. AWhy, of course,@ the druggist said. AIf that=s what you want. But the law requires you to tell what you are going to use it for.@ Miss Emily just stared at him, her head tilted back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went and got the arsenic and wrapped it up.@ Perhaps she is suicidal.
P 61 AWhen we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and