Tell Tale Heart :: Essays Papers

Tell floor HeartTrue--nervous--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am but why will you say that I am feisty? The disease had sharpened my senses--not destroyed--not dulled them. Above all was the sense of tryout acute. I heard all things in the heavens and in the earth. I heard humansy things in hell. How, then, am I mad? ...Now this is the point. You conjuration me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded--with what caution--with what foresight--with what feigning I went to work I was never kinder to the antiquated man than during the entirely week before I killed him. It is impossible to say how the idea of murdering the quondam(a) man first entered the mind of the narrator. There was no real demand as stated by the narrator Object there was n one(a). peevishness there was none. I loved the older man. He had never wronged me....For his gilded I had no desire. I think that it was his affectionateness Th e narrator states that one of the old mans centerfields was a pale blue color with a film over it, which resembled the eye of a vulture. Just the sight of that eye made the narrators blood run cold, and as a result, the eye (and with it the old man) must be destroyed. Every night at midnight, the narrator went to the old mans room. Carefully, he turned the latch to the door, and opened it without making a sound. When a sufficient opening had been made, a covered lantern was thrust inside. I undid the lantern cautiously...(for the hindges creaked)--I undid it dear so much that a single thin ray expend upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights...but I found the eye always closed and so it was impossible to do the work for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. The old man suspected nothing. During the day, the narrator continued to perform his mutual duties, and even dared to claim each morning how the old man had passed the night however, at midn ight, the nightly ritual continued. Upon the eighth night, the narrator proceeded to the old mans room as usual however, on this night, something was different. Never before that night had I felt the consequence of my powers--of my sagacity.