Character Development
Physical Traits
If I had to pick the real character of the gang, it would be Dallas Winston--- Dally. I used to like to draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood, for then I could get his personality down in a few lines. He had an elfish face, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. His hair was almost white it was so blond, and he didn't like haircuts, or hair oil either, so it fell over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts and curled behind his ears and along the nape of his neck. His eyes were blue, blazing ice, cold with a hatred of the whole world.
From The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
Thoughts/Feelings
Why did I write them? Love letters to nobody, nobody who loved me back. They made me feel foolish and better at the same time. I didn’t know where to mail them, so I just saved the letters in my desk.
Dear Daddy,
How are you, I miss you, I love you,
I still love you, I’ll always love you.
Sometimes I wrote When are you coming home? Sometimes I wrote, So you’re never coming home. Sometimes I wrote, You can come home now. Sometimes I wrote, Why didn’t you take me with you?
I didn’t keep a very tidy desk.
One day the letters poured out over my lap, my feet, my teacher’s feet. I got some of the letters back, but most of them went to the counselor….
From Sahara Special by Esme Raji Codell
I used to pretend that I was just passing through this family on my way to a real one. It isn’t too much of a stretch, really—there’s Kate, the spitting image of my dad; and Jesse, the spitting image of my mom; and then there’s me, a collection of recessive genes that came out of left field. In the hospital cafeteria, eating rubberized French fries and red Jello-O, I’d glance around from table to table, thinking my bona fide parents might be just a tray away.
From My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Pocoult
I saw my wife laughing as she parked the car. I saw her get out of the car and shut the door. She was still wearing a smile. Just amazing. She went around to the other side of the car to where the blind man was already starting to get out. This blind man, feature this, was wearing a full beard! A beard on a blind man! Too much, I say.
From Cathedral by Raymond Carver
Actions
He snatched his knife out of the sheath and slammed it into a tree trunk. Next time there would be no mercy. He looked around fiercely, daring them to contradict.
From Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea; but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her self.
From A New England Nun by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Words
Your professor is a terrible singer and a decent dancer. He is a movie crier but stone-faced in real life. He never laughs even when he is actually amused. He hates suck-ups, people who treat waitresses and cab drivers poorly and anybody who thinks diversity is just an academic conceit. He is a big sucker for the hard worker and is rarely dazzled by brilliance. He has little patience for people who pretend to ask questions when all they really want to do is make a speech.
He has a lot of ideas about a lot of things, some of which are good. He likes being challenged. He is an idiosyncratic speaker, often beginning in the middle of a story, and is used to being told that people have no idea what he is talking about. It’s fine to be one of those people.
David Carr, bio for his his college classes
If I had to pick the real character of the gang, it would be Dallas Winston--- Dally. I used to like to draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood, for then I could get his personality down in a few lines. He had an elfish face, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. His hair was almost white it was so blond, and he didn't like haircuts, or hair oil either, so it fell over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts and curled behind his ears and along the nape of his neck. His eyes were blue, blazing ice, cold with a hatred of the whole world.
From The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
Thoughts/Feelings
Why did I write them? Love letters to nobody, nobody who loved me back. They made me feel foolish and better at the same time. I didn’t know where to mail them, so I just saved the letters in my desk.
Dear Daddy,
How are you, I miss you, I love you,
I still love you, I’ll always love you.
Sometimes I wrote When are you coming home? Sometimes I wrote, So you’re never coming home. Sometimes I wrote, You can come home now. Sometimes I wrote, Why didn’t you take me with you?
I didn’t keep a very tidy desk.
One day the letters poured out over my lap, my feet, my teacher’s feet. I got some of the letters back, but most of them went to the counselor….
From Sahara Special by Esme Raji Codell
I used to pretend that I was just passing through this family on my way to a real one. It isn’t too much of a stretch, really—there’s Kate, the spitting image of my dad; and Jesse, the spitting image of my mom; and then there’s me, a collection of recessive genes that came out of left field. In the hospital cafeteria, eating rubberized French fries and red Jello-O, I’d glance around from table to table, thinking my bona fide parents might be just a tray away.
From My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Pocoult
I saw my wife laughing as she parked the car. I saw her get out of the car and shut the door. She was still wearing a smile. Just amazing. She went around to the other side of the car to where the blind man was already starting to get out. This blind man, feature this, was wearing a full beard! A beard on a blind man! Too much, I say.
From Cathedral by Raymond Carver
Actions
He snatched his knife out of the sheath and slammed it into a tree trunk. Next time there would be no mercy. He looked around fiercely, daring them to contradict.
From Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea; but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her self.
From A New England Nun by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Words
Your professor is a terrible singer and a decent dancer. He is a movie crier but stone-faced in real life. He never laughs even when he is actually amused. He hates suck-ups, people who treat waitresses and cab drivers poorly and anybody who thinks diversity is just an academic conceit. He is a big sucker for the hard worker and is rarely dazzled by brilliance. He has little patience for people who pretend to ask questions when all they really want to do is make a speech.
He has a lot of ideas about a lot of things, some of which are good. He likes being challenged. He is an idiosyncratic speaker, often beginning in the middle of a story, and is used to being told that people have no idea what he is talking about. It’s fine to be one of those people.
David Carr, bio for his his college classes