Beautiful Table Lamps

Friday, October 14th, 2011 | Author:
 ... beautiful table lamps – Modern House Exterior and Interior Design

How to Choose the Correct Size Table Lamp For a Console Table

The choice of your table lamp may sound easy but to be able to get the best and make the best out of your money, it is important to consider some guidelines when you buy your lamp. Your choice can depend on the style of your console table and the style of lamp that is appropriate for the table. It is important to know the specific purpose for using the lamp. Will this be for task lighting like reading, sewing or other work? Will it be for creating a romantic ambiance or a sophisticated and classy look or mood? Will it be used to create an accent in one specific area of the room? When you know the answer to the question on the purpose of your table lamp, the next steps will be very easy.

You can choose a buffet table lamp that has a slender, sleek and sophisticated appearance. A buffet style lamp is used for moderate lighting and is best for lamps in pairs or groups. This is best for solid, high quality wood console with doors.

You can also choose a rustic looking and warm mood lighting table lamp with earth tone. This is best for traditional, dark-colored half-moon console table that can be from 16 to 28 inches long. If your room has a rustic color scheme, this kind of lamp will be best for you.

Accent table lamp is good to provide a direct lighting to a specific corner of a room or to provide focus for a particular furniture piece. Give that special accent to your best decor through a lamp sitting on a high quality wood console table. You can also use it beside picture frames or your favorite books.

Your table lamp can be a great conversation piece when you have carefully chosen the style and theme that goes with the console table. Always consider the size and the color and make sure that they match. It is not good to have a big lamp standing on a small console table. The accent or the purpose of elegance and great look may be defeated.

If you are meticulous and you want the best fit for your console table and room, the best thing to do is to measure the table and approximate the best lamp that can stand on your console table. Use a tape measure for this purpose. Measure the diameter or area and the height of your table and when you shop for the matching lamp, always have this size in mind. A good guideline for the height of your table lamp is that guests should not be able to see the bulb when they sit beside the console table.

The color and theme are also factors that you should consider when you shop. A touch of your home motif should match an accent of your table lamp. The colors of the room, table, and lamp, should compliment and provide an accent that will be attractive and elegant.

About the author: Find the perfect bedside table lamps for your home, check out: http://bedsidetablelamp.org

Source: http://www.isnare.com/?aid=482688&ca=Home+Management

Frequently Asked Questions

  1. QUESTION:
    Lamps are so expensive, are there any places that sell beautiful table lamps, but not so pricey?

    • ANSWER:
      yah, he’s just saying that cause he sells lighting. lamps are just lamps, and why should they be the most durable??? what are they enduring?

  2. QUESTION:
    I want to know where to look up antique Czechloslovakian fruit lamps?
    These are table lamps that look somewhat like a bowl or dish of fruit, but the fruit is made of smooth glass on top, and it lights up from the inside of the bowl. they were made in the early 1900’s, and I have a beautiful one, and want to know its value and history.

    • ANSWER:
      Hi, Try Antiques Roadshow.com

  3. QUESTION:
    I’m remodeling if you have any great idea please share?
    I’m remodeling my living room and dine-room I need great ideal from yahoo I love remodel this is what I had in mind I want picture of the Titanic on my wall with the captain and his crew I need an beautiful old auntique sofa and 4 small table and 2 ,lamps salt and pepper shaker and a long auntique table . it will be beautiful…….. In my livingroom I would have a beautiful piainting of the titanic with a beautiful auntique sofa and table rug with a working picture machine sitting on the rug. ….I need your help and idea

    • ANSWER:
      oh, you are doing a theme design!

      i think you should all some old world class, think hollywood regency meets english royalty. you definitely need a great chandelier. go to lamps plus dot com. also, i picture a light greyish blue on the walls. You will definitely need to go antique shopping but stick to cream colored furniture. Your accent color can be a nice antique muted rose color (washed out and faded) or like a grayish lavender. Use big dramatic pull back curtains made with fabulous upholstery type fabric and a use a tassle to hold back. You could even put a piano in there. Buy nice china and lots of vases with roses. Very formal. You should get 2 nice antique armchairs with wrought iron detailing (flowers or vines) and paint that cream and re-upholster in a coordinating fabric. Anchor it all together with a great large rug repeating the same colors and patterns in the curtains, couch. etc but do not be too matchy matchy!

  4. QUESTION:
    HELP! i am losing interest in my wife AGAIN!!?
    i am 38yo married twice. i am looking forward to be a good and loving hubby . But after 1st years of marrige, i realised that i am losing interest in my wife body again! Making love is no longer as rewarding or exciting as before. Infact looking at her (still beautiful) body is just like another cold table lamp!!
    Help ! I most wanted to keep this marrige but my body feels otherwise. Secretly, i had been taking Vigra just to kept the tempo, even thou i am not erectile dyfunction! Pls advise is this normal for every man or is there anyway i can change this dire situation…thanks

    • ANSWER:
      look like all u got into the marriage was for sex.. cause thats how u rate the survival of your marriage {}

  5. QUESTION:
    I need some recommendations for paint color on a living room using feng shui design principals-see details?
    chestnut colored l-shaped leather sectional, mission style medium brown end tables, oranges/browns/yellows mission style stained glass lamp beige carpeting, one wall is a rock wall. The room is located in the career and helpful people/travel/father guas, immediately inside the front entrance of the home. I have a beautiful mission style blue hued stained glass/white entrydoor.

    • ANSWER:
      From the description of your furniture, it seems like you have a somewhat conservative, warm taste. (which is fine).

      Since you obviously want it to flow, and match well, i would pick a neutral color. You have browns, yellows, and oranges and that’s what you want people to look at. Not the color on the wall.

      Advice: Go with a brown, neutral color. If you like light colors, try different shades of tan or sandy colors. If you like deep, richer colors, a mocha or chocolate brown color might do it for you.

      I’m sure it will look great no matter what you do. Hope this helps. :O)

  6. QUESTION:
    What do you think of this prologue?
    H a l o

    She lay on my operating table; my insides churned. My thoughts mixed together; I was apprehensive. All the negative thoughts surrounding her, and the question if she would live, weighed me down. My hands lay flat on the table, next to her beautiful torso. I clenched them, feeling light-headed. She was all I had ever sought after, all I had ever wanted to accomplish. If her eyes did not open, my heart would break inside my chest.
    Open your eyes, my lovely. Live for me. Please, please, my angel.
    The life support machine beeped. She was alive. She was a living person, but unresponsive. Her chest inflated when she inhaled, and went down when she exhaled. My heart skipped; there was a pressure on my chest and sweat gathered among my brow. My greatest fear was that she would not wake; that she would never live to experience life as I wanted her too. She was my greatest creation; she was far more advanced than a simple science fair project. She was going to be a real, living person.
    All was dark around me except for her. Lamps hung over our heads, illuminating our skin. The lamp light enlightened her complexion, creating a somewhat transparent neon green look to her skin. She was striking, even as a sewn up doll.
    Frustration and hopelessness slowly seeped into me; the thought of her never waking strangled me. She had to; I did everything right. Everything about her was fine; she was alive. She just had to wake from her coma. I unclenched my fists and looked down at my hands, blood gathering around the indents that I had been pressing my nails into. I felt so unfinished, my vision blurred and tears pooled around my eye lids. She was never going to open her eyes. It was all a waste of my time, my mind, and my heart. I shut my eyes tightly and silently sobbed. My skin burned as each tear peeled from my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
    I heard a sudden cracking of a voice, as if someone was trying to speak but there was sand in their throat. My heart stopped beating as I opened my eyes and looked down at her through my teary fog. A grin played itself over my face and the happiest half hour of my life began. Her mouth was open slightly and her eyes wide in fear. Her irises resembled lime green jell-o: they caught me off guard. The eyes that I had picked out for her were weren’t that green. Perhaps it was the chemicals in her system that caused such a reaction.
    She stared up at me, frightened. I smiled at her. I wanted to do so much more though. I wanted to jump up and down and laugh! Finally! I had a daughter of my own. I would have to make her feel loved, all of the time. I gently patted her black wavy hair; it felt soft between my fingers. Some of the confusion and fear left her facial expression and she lightly smirked at me. I knew that she knew who I was. Even though she was completely ignorant towards everything in the world; she was aware that I was there for her and for eternity would be.
    I took my hand from her hair and held it out to her. She raised her hand to mine and placed her palm against it. I gripped her tighter, and slowly pulled her up so she was sitting up right. I was in love, not in the romantic sexual way… but in the way that a father loves his daughter.
    She took her hand from mine and raised both of hers in front of her face; her mouth hung open as she examined her fingers. Her focus shifted and her hands fell slowly. She stared wide-eyed at her thighs, then gently touched her skin. When she felt the texture of her flesh she looked up at me, very surprised. She was really, just too cute. Even though she was built to look like a 20 year old, she was similar to a new born. Well, she was a new born – technically. She looked away from me and went back to investigating her body. She moved her fingers diagonally across her waist, feeling the stitches. Her eyes squinted in confusion.
    I had wrapped white ribbon around her, so she was not exposed. The ribbon went over her breasts: They went down between her thighs, then travelling under and up her back. She was very thin. I didn’t want to make her so skinny, but I had a limited amount of resources. Her torso and legs were elongated and her stomach was stitched from her right rib cage to her hip bone. I would eventually be able to take out the stitches, once her flesh began to heal.
    I looked at her lovingly: I felt so complete. I had nothing to worry about; I could finally be happy. She raised her hands to my face slowly; her lips curved upward and her eyes smiled at me as well. She placed her hands on the side of my face and felt the feeling of my skin. Her body was warm. In a way it made me feel even more accomplished and even happier. She grinned wider at me as my smile increased.
    “Your name will be Halo, because you’re my angel,” I said.
    Halo giggled a little: she grinned from ear to ear. It was just so cute, I had to hug her. I wrappe
    . I wrapped my arms around her thin, frail body and I held her against me. Her arms pressed against my chest and I pressed my face into her collarbone. I had a feeling of great improvement. I was going to be a better person because of her. I just knew I was.
    I had a lot of educating to do, but it would all be for the better. Her existence was for the better. All the calculating, all the work I had gone through was over now and I could begin to enjoy it. I held her tighter and felt tears of joy spilled from my eyes.
    “I love you, my daughter, Halo.”

    • ANSWER:
      It sounds really interesting! Sort of like a modern day Frankenstein, right? I think that it is very well written and seems like an interesting story.

      Just a few things: I know it is just a prologue, but you may want to mention in passing a reason why Halo was twenty. I mean, if a man was able to construct a daughter, he probably would not really want to make her an adult who might want to leave soon to make their own way rather than a little girl who would love him unconditionally and want to stay with him forever.

      You may also want to mention that the father is aged (unless it is important for the story for him to be young!). You could just add a little phrase like “I pushed my graying hair back.” That might clear up any doubts about what way he feels for his daughter.

      I really hope you don’t think i am being bossy or anything! It is your story to do with what you want. I just thought you may want to add a few details to make the story more clear.

  7. QUESTION:
    :O my boyfriend told me he wants to take a break because “he’s getting in too deep”?
    What the hell is this all about? Is this his way of breaking up gently and slowly? Here’s the story, we went to this place with a beautiful lake and a lovely little outside restaurant, he took me as a surprise and told me to get dressed up. I got dressed up but not like overly like prom dress up and he told me i looked beautiful. Anyway when we got there we were sat by the lake, but that’s not important. Anyway i could tell the place was expensive because the table’s were glass, like crystled glass with these bar like lamps. The waitress brought our food out and i was completely freaking in my head that he was going to propose or something but i then realized he wasn’t nervous at all or anything to it was okay. Anyway we took a walk down the lake walk and everything was fine, there was all lovely tree’s and things and he turned to me and said that he really loved me and that i was incredibly important to him. I told him that i loved him too and that he was important to me and we kissed. He took me home fine and the next day he tells me on the phone “ive never felt like this before (there i am thinking aw) and then he goes and it scares me, i’m afraid. I think we should take a break because i feel like i’m getting in far to deep” i replied saying, that i didnt understand he said it was something he had to work out on his own. What do you think is going on?
    I understand that, and there has been no upset about from minor arguements over what plane to take and that sort of thing. Everything was going fine. Why take a break because your in to deep, what is it comittment issues?

    • ANSWER:
      sounds like commitment issues.
      my ex and i just broke up a while ago, and we pretty much still acted like we were dating, but without the title.
      he kept saying he would love to be with me, but when it came to making a decision he choked.
      so i think that maybe you should take that break and see how things pan out.
      it’s better to give him his time to think than to force it on him, that won’t help at all.
      so go about a month just being friends and see how it works out afterward.
      i kinda wish we had taken a break instead, but i’m an idiot and ended it for whatever reason.
      like he said, he’s never felt that way before, and he’s probably scared of getting too attached and vulnerable, giving someone the chance to hurt him at any time.
      so just let him think it out.

  8. QUESTION:
    Do you like this Allen Ginsberg poem?
    The Terms in Which I Think of Reality
     

     
    Reality is a question 
    of realizing how real 
    the world is already. 

    Time is Eternity, 
    ultimate and immovable; 
    everyone’s an angel. 

    It’s Heaven’s mystery 
    of changing perfection : 
    absolute Eternity 

    changes! Cars are always 
    going down the street, 
    lamps go off and on. 

    It’s a great flat plain; 
    we can see everything 
    on top of a table. 

    Clams open on the table, 
    lambs are eaten by worms 
    on the plain. The motion 

    of change is beautiful, 
    as well as form called 
    in and out of being. 

    Next : to distinguish process 
    in its particularity with 
    an eye to the initiation 

    of gratifying new changes 
    desired in the real world. 
    Here we’re overwhelmed 

    with such unpleasant detail 
    we dream again of Heaven. 
    For the world is a mountain 

    of shit : if it’s going to 
    be moved at all, it’s got 
    to be taken by handfuls. 

    Man lives like the unhappy 
    whore on River Street who 
    in her Eternity gets only 

    a couple of bucks and a lot 
    of snide remarks in return 
    for seeking physical love 

    the best way she knows how, 
    never really heard of a glad 
    job or joyous marriage or 

    a difference in the heart : 
    or thinks it isn’t for her, 
    which is her worst misery. 

    • ANSWER:
      No. In fact, I would like to co-opt and paraphrase what gul (right above me) said—wasted time that I won’t get back again.

  9. QUESTION:
    Do you like this poem?
    Reality is a question
    of realizing how real
    the world is already.

    Time is Eternity,
    ultimate and immovable;
    everyone’s an angel.

    It’s Heaven’s mystery
    of changing perfection :
    absolute Eternity

    changes! Cars are always
    going down the street,
    lamps go off and on.

    It’s a great flat plain;
    we can see everything
    on top of a table.

    Clams open on the table,
    lambs are eaten by worms
    on the plain. The motion

    of change is beautiful,
    as well as form called
    in and out of being.

    Next : to distinguish process
    in its particularity with
    an eye to the initiation

    of gratifying new changes
    desired in the real world.
    Here we’re overwhelmed

    with such unpleasant detail
    we dream again of Heaven.
    For the world is a mountain

    of shit : if it’s going to
    be moved at all, it’s got
    to be taken by handfuls.

    Man lives like the unhappy
    whore on River Street who
    in her Eternity gets only

    a couple of bucks and a lot
    of snide remarks in return
    for seeking physical love

    the best way she knows how,
    never really heard of a glad
    job or joyous marriage or

    a difference in the heart :
    or thinks it isn’t for her,
    which is her worst misery.

    • ANSWER:
      great

  10. QUESTION:
    Are genie jokes the theme today?
    *Note: punchline better spoken aloud but it’s worth the space*

    One day a guy was drinking on a blistering summer day, when in walks a man wearing a large trench coat. He didn’t want to be rude but curiosity got the better of him and he approached the man. “Excuse me sir, but may I ask why you’re wearing a trench coat? It’s 97 degrees outside!” The man smirked, reached inside the trench coat and pulled out a pint-sized piano.

    “Wow, that’s pretty cool but you’re gonna have a stroke over a little piano?” The man promptly reached into the other pocket, and this time he pulled out a tiny, living human being. The little guy proceeded to the piano and began belting out the most BEAUTIFUL, incredible tunes you ever heard or ever hope to hear. “Unbelievable!!” shouts the guy. “How is this possible?!”

    The man reached into yet another pocket, pulled out a lamp and finally spoke. “If you rub this lamp, a genie will come out and grant you one wish but one wish only.” Thinking the heat finally fried the man’s brain, the patron grabbed the lamp, rubbed it, and to his surprise a genie came flying out. “I WILL GRANT YOU ONE WISH AND ONE WISH ONLY! WHAT IS YOUR WISH?” Shocked, puzzled but seeing the opportunity, the guy thought for a minute then finally said, “You know, times have been tough lately. I wish for a million bucks.”

    Suddenly ducks came FLYING out of the lamp like crazy, pooping all over the bar, the tables, the patrons, causing chaos. It was absolute bedlam. Hiding under a table, the guy says “What is wrong with that genie? I asked for a million bucks, not a million ducks!!” The other man says…

    “Yeah, and do you really think I asked for a 12-inch pianist?”

    • ANSWER:
      Nice.

  11. QUESTION:
    What do you think of my writing?
    Edwin bowed forward over the table and held the crystal. He raised it under the orange light of the lamp and watched as it reflected back all kinds of beautiful colors.

    He breathed in and placed the crystal back on the table.

    In a cold night, he’d be resting in bed, watching the moon from his window.

    Death would knock at the pane. Edwin would walk up to the window, smile, and raise the windowpane.

    “I’ve been waiting,” Edwin would say, “Do it fast,”

    Death would float over the room and come back down. He would march gently over the matted floor and raise a hand over Edwin’s body.

    Edwin would shiver and fall back to his bed.

    His soul would rise up into death’s palm. It’d be grey and made up of dust like particles.

    The essence of life, the God energy that dwelled in his body for forty-five years was on its way to the source.

    • ANSWER:
      The words are beautiful. There is a distinct voice that flows and ebbs like a river. It has a cadence and a harmony that paints a clear picture.
      The problem I found was I don’t know what the picture is. How does it connect with the first section about the bowl. That seems disjointed especially when the writer goes into a ‘potential’ situation or alternative moment. It isn’t clear why though as I said it is clear what would have happened it is a matter of better linking or transitioning the two sections.

  12. QUESTION:
    Does this paragraph sound good?
    ♫Come in and see the glo,glo,glo tables, call now and you can win a glow pillow Call, call, call, call, call.♫
    Voice over:
    Have you ever wnt bump in the night? Have you ever had to “go” unexpectally? Well do we have a solution for you and its called “The GLO side table”
    This bed side table is so amazing all you have to do is clap and it will light up your room with a beautiful green glow, perfect for a night light or a lamp and suits everyone no matter what age. Its only five easy payments of .95 plus you get a 30 day money back guarantee. Its seriously one of a kind.
    Plus, the first 100 callers will go into the draw to win a free glow in the dark pillow and doona.
    You don’t want to miss this one by the glow guys.

    btw don’t ask me what is it about oh and it doesn’t exist

    • ANSWER:
      Here are the corrections:
      Have you ever had a bump in the night?
      …and it’s called the “GLO” side table.
      It’s only five easy payments of .95, plus you get….
      It is seriously a one of a kind.
      And that’s not all, the first 100 callers will be entered in our draw to win a free glow-in-the-dark pillow and doona. ( I don’t know what a doona is. Maybe you have to explain it or leave it out.)
      You don’t want to miss this illuminating offer by the ‘GLO’ Guys!
      The rest of the text is fine.

  13. QUESTION:
    please read and comment on this part of my story?
    it’s from a book im working on, and this is a part when a group of homeless street kids are watching a banquet being prepared from a window.

    Three kitchen workers dressed in black uniforms walked past then, carrying platters heaped with salad. Others following behind brought crystal punch bowls full of ice and bottles of beer and wine. They disappeared behind a door, then reappeared minutes later and went back into the kitchen. This time at least fifty people emerged, carrying metal bins with small cans of kerosene underneath. It was impossible to see what was in the high bins. All the pier kids quickly crowded to the small window overlooking the banquet hall.
    Loyal and Baby Girl couldn’t see inside, so in a thoughtful gesture 60Cent lifted them both onto his shoulders. They watched the staff arrange the bins on tables draped with starched white tablecloths. There was so much food that it couldn’t fit on the tables, so several bins had to be carried back out. The lids were removed, and all the pier kids peered intently through the window.
    Saylor was already starving, and the sights and smells of the food nearly caused her to faint. She pressed herself against the windowsill, desperate to get a glimpse inside before she was jostled to the back. She stood on her tiptoes and clutched 60Cent’s arm. Nothing less than a feast lay inside. There was rosemary-crusted pork tenderloin and shrimp, linguine with marinara sauce, sourdough bread, chicken, spinach risotto, polenta, mashed potatoes with chunks of melted butter, colorful vegetables, four kinds of grilled fish, sautéed clams and steaming crab legs. And there was so much of it! There was an entire table just for serving oysters. Behind the tables, a chef prepared to carve juicy cuts of prime rib under a spotlight lamp. There were trays after trays of fancy desserts, arranged delicately on silver plates—tiny chocolaty tarts topped with fruit, cream puffs, éclairs, crème brulee, tiramisu, soufflés, slivers of cheesecake and hundreds of dishes filled with gelato and sorbet. Two beautiful six-tiered cakes, frosted creamy white and decorated with sugary vines and blossoming flowers, towered over the dessert table.
    “Dang,” Baby Girl breathed softly.
    A few laughs rippled through the group, but no one moved much. It was obvious that they were all thinking the same thing, standing motionless, forty-six wide eyes glued to the scene below in awe. Saylor’s mouth watered. She could almost taste the tender prime rib and the crisp salad and oh, the cheesecake smothered with raspberries and blackberries and fluffy chocolate mousse. She imagined drawing the first forkful of the cake to her mouth, letting all the blissful flavors blend together and melt away.

    • ANSWER:
      A pretty good start. You are very detailed (which is what I stink at :D). Good job!

  14. QUESTION:
    do you think there are too many details in this part of my novel?
    it’s when a group of homeless street kids are watching a banquet being prepared, from a window.

    Three kitchen workers dressed in black uniforms walked past then, carrying platters heaped with salad. Others following behind brought crystal punch bowls full of ice and bottles of beer and wine. They disappeared behind a door, then reappeared minutes later and went back into the kitchen. This time at least fifty people emerged, carrying metal bins with small cans of kerosene underneath. It was impossible to see what was in the high bins. All the pier kids quickly crowded to the small window overlooking the banquet hall.
    Loyal and Baby Girl couldn’t see inside, so in a thoughtful gesture 60Cent lifted them both onto his shoulders. They watched the staff arrange the bins on tables draped with starched white tablecloths. There was so much food that it couldn’t fit on the tables, so several bins had to be carried back out. The lids were removed, and all the pier kids peered intently through the window.
    Saylor was already starving, and the sights and smells of the food nearly caused her to faint. She pressed herself against the windowsill, desperate to get a glimpse inside before she was jostled to the back. She stood on her tiptoes and clutched 60Cent’s arm. Nothing less than a feast lay inside. There was rosemary-crusted pork tenderloin and shrimp, linguine with marinara sauce, sourdough bread, chicken, spinach risotto, polenta, mashed potatoes with chunks of melted butter, colorful vegetables, four kinds of grilled fish, sautéed clams and steaming crab legs. And there was so much of it! There was an entire table just for serving oysters. Behind the tables, a chef prepared to carve juicy cuts of prime rib under a spotlight lamp. There were trays after trays of fancy desserts, arranged delicately on silver plates—tiny chocolaty tarts topped with fruit, cream puffs, éclairs, crème brulee, tiramisu, soufflés, slivers of cheesecake and hundreds of dishes filled with gelato and sorbet. Two beautiful six-tiered cakes, frosted creamy white and decorated with sugary vines and blossoming flowers, towered over the dessert table.
    “Dang,” Baby Girl breathed softly.
    A few laughs rippled through the group, but no one moved much. It was obvious that they were all thinking the same thing, standing motionless, forty-six wide eyes glued to the scene below in awe. Saylor’s mouth watered. She could almost taste the tender prime rib and the crisp salad and oh, the cheesecake smothered with raspberries and blackberries and fluffy chocolate mousse. She imagined drawing the first forkful of the cake to her mouth, letting all the blissful flavors blend together and melt away.

    • ANSWER:
      to be fairly honest, i don’t have enough time to read it, but i can answer in saying that; write what is needed to explain the situation and aid your story the best way it can. if you feel that it’s too long, or something is missing, then make adjustments… as i do… i may have a diffrent writing style but i can put up the advice i have

  15. QUESTION:
    Today i played Ouija board with my friends,please help need answers?
    Today i played Ouija board with my friends,and im really confused. We played it in my room,and we where just asking questions about the spirit when randomly it didnt answer the question right, it just spelt out my name and table, like candys table,and then i asked what about it,and it said makeup lamp,and i said should i tale it off,and it said yes. Then i asked what color eyes the spirit has and it said “Candy your beautiful” and then me and my friends put our fingers on the pointer and before i asked a question it started moving and said “Candy be a good friend to everyone”
    and then later it did the same thing and said “Candy stay away” and i kept asking from what and it said some dates this month but it was not clear,and im just concered how it would randomly would only talk to me,please help

    • ANSWER:
      heres the secret…your friends playing jokes on you

  16. QUESTION:
    Compare Baghdad under the Abbasids with Baghdad today.?
    this reading explains how baghdad was under Abbasids

    The city of Baghdad formed two vast semi-circles on the right and left banks of the Tigris, twelve miles in diameter. The numerous suburbs, covered with parks, gardens, villas and beautiful promenades, and plentifully supplied with rich bazaars, and finely built mosques and baths, stretched for a considerable distance on both sides of the river. In the days of its prosperity the population of Baghdad and its suburbs amounted to over two millions! The palace of the Caliph stood in the midst of a vast park several hours in circumference which beside a menagerie and aviary comprised an inclosure for wild animals reserved for the chase. The palace grounds were laid out with gardens, and adorned with exquisite taste with plants, flowers, and trees, reservoirs and fountains, surrounded by sculptured figures. On this side of the river stood the palaces of the great nobles. Immense streets, none less than forty cubits wide, traversed the city from one end to the other, dividing it into blocks or quarters, each under the control of an overseer or supervisor, who looked after the cleanliness, sanitation and the comfort of the inhabitants.

    The water exits both on the north and the south were like the city gates, guarded night and day by relays of soldiers stationed on the watch towers on both sides of the river. Every household was plentifully supplied with water at all seasons by the numerous aqueducts which intersected the town; and the streets, gardens and parks were regularly swept and watered, and no refuse was allowed to remain within the walls. An immense square in front of the imperial palace was used for reviews, military inspections, tournaments and races; at night the square and the streets were lighted by lamps.

    There was also a vast open space where the troops whose barracks lay on the left bank of the river were paraded daily. The long wide estrades at the different gates of the city were used by the citizens for gossip and recreation or for watching the flow of travelers and country folk into the capital. The different nationalities in the capital had each a head officer to represent their interests with the government, and to whom the stranger could appeal for counsel or help.

    Baghdad was a veritable City of Palaces, not made of stucco and mortar, but of marble. The buildings were usually of several stories. The palaces and mansions were lavishly gilded and decorated, and hung with beautiful tapestry and hangings of brocade or silk. The rooms were lightly and tastefully furnished with luxurious divans, costly tables, unique Chinese vases and gold and silver ornaments.

    Both sides of the river were for miles fronted by the palaces, kiosks, gardens and parks of the grandees and nobles, marble steps led down to the water’s edge, and the scene on the river was animated by thousands of gondolas, decked with little flags, dancing like sunbeams on the water,

    and carrying the pleasure-seeking Baghdad citizens from one part of the city to the other. Along the wide-stretching quays lay whole fleets at anchor, sea and river craft of all kinds, from the Chinese junk to the old Assyrian raft resting on inflated skins.

    The mosques of the city were at once vast in size and remarkably beautiful. There were also in Baghdad numerous colleges of learning, hospitals, infirmaries for both sexes, and lunatic asylums.

    • ANSWER:
      There were no bloody americans then…

  17. QUESTION:
    Can I please have some feedback on my book I have just started to write?
    The Abductions
    New York – September 6th 2011
    Frederick (2:06am)
    The smash of a window jolted Frederick from his slumber. Bleary eyed and exhausted he grabbed around on the bed side table for his glasses. Once securely placed on his eyes he began to take in what was going on around him. Three men surrounded the king size bed, all of them staring at him. He lunged for his bed side cabinet draw and his hand reached for the gun that was stuck to the draw roof. But, before he could get to it the three men had all jumped at him causing him to fall out of the bed and roll into the lamp. The lamp smashed him on the head and caused him to bleed from the gash across his forehead. The man nearest to him whom had the look of a scary psychopath held him by the throat and plugged a cloth around his mouth and nose. Frederick began to inhale and the smell of chloroform filled his nostrils. He felt himself falling, falling into a deep sleep. The last sound that he heard was the sound of a blade being scrapped along another metal object. Intense pain in his chest followed the sound and he felt a thick liquid running down his torso until he gave in and closed his eyes for the last time. Frederick’s body was bundled under the bed. The police whom would arrive hours later would come to the realisation that Frederick had died due to blood loss from the chest his heart had been severed and had ultimately stopped beating. A tear drop silently slipped from Fredericks left eye and he released one last breathe in which he dreamed and prayed for the safety of his loving wife and his son, Emit.

    New York – September 6th 2011
    Cassandra (2:11am)
    When dreaming one shouldn’t notice peculiar smells, but Cassandra did. She opened her eyes to the sight of her husband being dragged out of their master bedroom. Gagged and bound, Frederick looked like he was in no condition to speak, let alone provide confidence to his petrified wife. Cassandra was well aware of the negative points that came with fame and fortune. Possible Kidnap, Possible Psychopath fans, Creepy letters and Please for help, the list is endless. But never in her life did she think that it would ever happen to her, or her family. It’s a daunting prospect seeing the love of your life dragged away, into the unknown, not knowing whether they are going to live or die. Cassandra began to become familiar with her surroundings the window to her left was smashed, possible the entry route that the intruders took. The wardrobe, untouched, thankfully they hadn’t realised that with wealth and power comes certain privileges reserved for people of importance. In this circumstance she was talking about the panic room which lay dormant behind a thick mahogany wardrobe full to the brim with an extensive range of clothing and shoes. Cassandra’s mind suddenly snapped into life, my son Emit, is in his bedroom asleep, she thought. The door to his room was always left on the latch, in case of any emergencies like fires or intruders. Cassandra prayed for her baby’s sake that the door was still closed over. The men emerged from the master bedroom doorway, staring at her as though she were an untamed animal ready to attack or pounce on the unsuspecting victim. They raised their guns and held them aggressively, pointing them directly at her face. They ushered her up and they began to walk down the stairs where she was told to grab all of the legal documents that belonged to her son Emit. After what felt like hours of going through draws and opening cupboards filtering through documents, she was handed a sack and told to place all of them all into it. A man with a ponytail approached her and placed handcuffs around her wrists. He then ushered her outside through the front door, which by now had been unlocked by the intruders, who used a spare front door key which was found whilst rummaging through the draws in the deluxe kitchen. She was rushed past a beautiful professionally crafted garden to a deep purple coloured van. “Where is my husband you fowl lose some creature?” The man with the ponytail grabbed a handful of Cassandra’s hair and yanked it as hard as he could and merely said “Dead”. These words put Cassandra into turmoil. The one and only man that she had ever loved, has been ripped away from her in such a harsh and undignified manner. Cassandra’s heart shattered into pieces and she soon began to sob, uncontrollably. With that she was shoved into the purple van and the door was banged shut. The sound of shuffling echoed around the interior of the pitch black van. “Hello” whispered Cassandra. No reply. “Is anyone there?”, Again no reply. A force erupted from the back of the van and pinned Cassandra against the wall. “This won’t hurt, much”. Tears rolled down Cassandra’s face. She knew what would happen next. A pointed weapon was then placed on her forehead. “Goodbye” whispered the shadow.
    And with that he pulled the trigger, blasting Cassandra’s head all over the van floor. Cassandra slid down the van wall. Cassandra’s body laid there, her left arm cradling her wedding ring. Her last thought was that of her angelic son Emit; orphaned by the shadow that killed his Mother and the intruders that killed his Father.

    New York – September 6th 2011
    Emit (2:27am)
    I woke to the sound of shattering glass hitting the wooden floors downstairs. I looked out of my bedroom window, which overlooked the vast landscape of the city that never sleeps, New York, and saw that it was still dark. Again, I heard people rattling around down stairs going through draws and emptying cupboards, looking for something. Panic threw me into overdrive. My parents had always prepared me for break-ins and intruders in the home. I was instructed by my Mother and Father in case of a security breach, to quietly make my way to the panic room, which was hidden behind the wardrobe in my Parents bedroom. I wonde
    I wondered whether my Mother and Father had even heard the noises that were coming from downstairs. I decided on heading to the panic room. I crept across my bedroom floor praying that no floorboards would creak under my weight and alert the predator to my existence and my whereabouts. I stopped only when I had reached the bedroom door. My door was on the latch so I gently nudged it open and peered down across the hallway and down into the landing. To my horror numerous light beams raced along the walls illuminating everything in its path from expensive masterpieces to the latest technological equipment. My mind rushed with dread as I came to the conclusion that all these crooks wanted were the goods lying around the house, my parents’ goods, and my goods. As I began to get used to the thought of living in poverty, I quickly became aware that my parents would still be in bed. I silently walked back to my room and then turned left in the hallway which led to the garage and my Mother and

    • ANSWER:
      I couldn’t write it much better myself! Careful though, the high detail-to-event ratio does make it sound a little corny. This is especially true that when you explain the characters motives, be sure to think about whether that was already obvious (Ex: Did you really need to explain to the reader that why Emit was worried about the floorboards is because he didn’t want the creaking to give him away?) And keep the reader’s opinion of the characters mostly in control. For example, if you didn’t want Emit to be portrayed as a little snot, you might want to omit the part about how he “got used to the idea of being poor”. It’s not like we don’t all have that but he should really be so worried for his parents, that wouldn’t even cross his mind. Which brings me to my next part. It’s too early to tell but there are always things a story must have. So far, you only seem to be lacking in character depth. I’m sure that could change without making any changes to the current part but in the next few chapters, make sure these people are explained like a real person, not an aid to the plot, real people WITH FLAWS (and I can’t stress that part enough. make sure the bad guys have some good attributes as well) And, of course, let’s talk theme. DO NOT allow your story to be merely an exciting blur of events and quests. That is stale writing and it is for children. A real story is an in depth hypothetical scenario used to convey a philosophical question and the plot and characters must reflect this point. There are also WRONG (or more specifically wrong ways to talk about a theme) themes to have. Many will say there’s no wrong answer but there is and you can identify which are which in a simple way; Firstly, the point must have two sides to it, two REAL sides. It’s ok if the writer favors one school of thought or another, it’s actually a good thing, but the writer must pay respect to opposing views on whatever the topic, this means not only avoiding preechiness by giving an opposing view in the first place, but playing devil’s advocate as thoroughly as possible. You have talent. Good luck!


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