Ripples

Hello, it's me again. Curious about what's new? I have completed the first part of my course "Fundamentals of Neuroscience," taught by Professor David Cox of Harvard University. This is a MOOC, and you can easily find it online. I plan to share what I've learned and my experiences enrolling in this course. However, covering everything in a single post would be overwhelming, so I will divide it into four parts. Please note that my understanding may not be entirely accurate since I am only a high school student, so I apologize for any mistakes. I would greatly appreciate hearing your thoughts. I will use the present tense for convenience.

When I was working on my assignment and used and listened to “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (Menken and Schwartz, 1998) the musical soundtrack, adapted from the book of the same name by Victor Hugo (2011) as background music for my study, I suddenly realised how my reactions towards the characters had changed from the first time I watched it. In this essay, I will focus only on the character Claude Frollo.

All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms; And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.