On Going a Journey Essay Example for Free

On Going a Journey Essay One of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey; but I like to go by myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company enough for me. I am then never less alone than when alone. The fields his study, nature was his book. I cannot see the wit of walking and talking at the same time. When I am in the country, I wish to vegetate like the country. I am not for criticising hedge-rows and black cattle. I go out of town in order to forget the town and all that is in it. There are those who for this purpose go to watering-places, and carry the metropolis with them. I like more elbow-room, and fewer incumbrances. I like solitude, when I give myself up to it, for the sake of solitude; nor do I ask for ——a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper solitude is sweet. The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences; to leave ourselves behind, much more to get rid of others. It is because I want a little breathing-space to muse on indifferent matters, where Contemplation May plume her feathers and let grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaird,  that I absent myself from the town for awhile, without feeling at a loss the moment I am left by myself. Instead of a friend in a post-chaise or in a Tilbury, to exchange good things with, and vary the same stale topics over again, for once let me have a truce with impertinence. Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours march to dinner—and then to thinking! It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone heaths. I laugh, I run, I leap, I sing for joy. From the point of yonder rolling cloud, I plunge into my past being, and revel there, as the sun-burnt Indian plunges headlong into the wave that wafts him to his native shore. Then long-forgotten things, like sunken wrack and sumless treasuries, burst upon my eager  sight, and I begin to feel, think, and be myself again. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attempts at wit or dull common-place s, mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence. No one likes puns, alliterations, antitheses, argument, and analysis better than I do; but I sometimes had rather be without them. Leave, oh, leave me to my repose! I have just now other business in hand, which would seem idle to you, but is with me very stuff of the conscience. Is not this wild rose sweet without a comment? Does not this daisy leap to my heart set in its coat of emerald? Yet if I were to explain to you the circumstance that has so endeared it to me, you would only smile. Had I not better then keep it to myself, and let it serve me to brood over, from here to yonder craggy point, and from thence onward to the far-distant horizon? I should be but bad company all that way, and therefore prefer being alone. I have heard it said that you may, when the moody fit comes on, walk or ride on by yourself, and indulge your reveries. But this looks like a breach of manners, a neglect of others, and you are thinking all the time that you ought to rejoin your party. Out upon such half-faced fellowship, say I. I like to be either entirely to myself, or entirely at the disposal of others; to talk or be silent, to walk or sit still, to be sociab le or solitary. I was pleased with an observation of Mr. Cobbetts, that he thought it a bad French custom to drink our wine with our meals, and that an Englishman ought to do only one thing at a time. So I cannot talk and think, or indulge in melancholy musing and lively conversation by fits and starts, Let me have a companion of my way, says Sterne, were it but to remark how the shadows lengthen as the sun declines. It is beautifully said: but in my opinion, this continual comparing of notes interferes with the involuntary impression of things upon the mind, and hurts the sentiment. If you only hint what you feel in a kind of dumb show, it is insipid: if you have to explain it, it is making a toil of a pleasure. You cannot read the book of nature, without being perpetually put to the trouble of translating it for the benefit of others. I am for the synthetical method on a journey, in preference to the analytical. I am content to lay in a stock of ideas then, and to examine and anatomise them afterw ards. I want to see my vague notions float like the down of the thistle before the breeze, and not to have them entangled in the briars and thorns of controversy. For once, I like to have it all my own way; and this  is impossible unless you are alone, or in such company as I do not covet. I have no objection to argue a point with any one for twenty miles of measured road, but not for pleasure. If you remark the scent of a beanfield crossing the road, perhaps your fellow-traveller has no smell. If you point to a distant object, perhaps he is short-sighted, and has to take out his glass to look at it. There is a feeling in the air, a tone in the colour of a cloud which hits your fancy, but the effect of which you are unable to account for. There is then no sympathy, but an uneasy craving after it, and a dissatisfaction which pursues you on the way, and in the end probably produces ill humour. Now I never quarrel with myself, and take all my own conclusions for granted till I find it neces sary to defend them against objections. It is not merely that you may not be of accord on the objects and circumstances that present themselves before you—these may recal a number of objects, and lead to associations too delicate and refined to be possibly communicated to others. Yet these I love to cherish, and sometimes still fondly clutch them, when I can escape from the throng to do so. To give way to our feelings before company, seems extravagance or affectation; and on the other hand, to have to unravel this mystery of our being at every turn, and to make others take an equal interest in it (otherwise the end is not answered) is a task to which few are competent. We must give it an understanding, but no tongue. My old friend C——, however, could do both. He could go on in the most delightful explanatory way over hill and dale, a summers day, and convert a landscape into a didactic poem or a Pindaric ode. He talked far above singing. If I could so clothe my ideas in sounding and flowing words, I might perhaps wish to have some one with me to admire the swelling theme; or I could be more content, were it possible for me still to hear his echoing voice in the woods of All-Foxden. They had that fine madness in them which our first poets had; and if they could have been caught by some rare instrument, would have breathed such strains as the following. ——Here be woods as green As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet As when smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet Face of the curled stream, with flowrs as many As the young spring gives, and as choice as any; Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells, Arbours oergrown with woodbine, caves and dells; Choose where thou wilt, while I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes to make many a ring For thy long fingers; tell thee tales of love, How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies; How she conveyd him softly in a sleep, His temples bound with poppy, to the steep Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night, Gilding the mountain with her brothers light, To kiss her sweetest.—— Faithful Shepherdess. Had I words and images at command like these, I would attempt to wake the thoughts that lie slumbering on golden ridges in the evening clouds: but at the sight of nature my fancy, poor as it is, droops and closes up its leaves, like flowers at sunset. I can make nothing out on the spot:—I must have time to collect myself.— In general, a good thing spoils out-of-door prospects: it should be reserved for Table-talk. L—— is for this reason, I take it, the worst company in the world out of doors; because he is the best within. I grant, there is one subject on which it is pleasant to talk on a journey; and that is, what one shall have for supper when we get to our inn at night. The open air improves this sort of conversation or friendly altercation, by setting a keener edge on appetite. Every mile of the road heightens the flavour of the viands we expect at the end of it. How fine it is to enter some old town, walled and turreted just at the approach of night-fall, or to come to some straggling village, with the lights streaming through the surrounding gloom; and then after inquiring for the best entertainment that the place affords, to take ones ease at ones inn! These eventful moments in our lives history are too precious, too full of solid, heart-felt happiness to be frittered and dribbled away in imperfect sympathy. I would have them all to myself, and drain them to the last drop: they will do to talk of or to write about afterwards. What a delicate speculation it is, after drinking whole goblets of tea, The cups that  cheer, but not inebriate, and letting the fumes ascend into the brain, to sit considering what we shall have for supper—eggs and a rasher, a rabbit smothered in onions, or an excellent veal-cutlet! Sancho in such a situation once fixed upon cow-heel; and his choice, though he could not help it, is not to be disparaged. Then in the intervals of pictured scenery and Shandean contemplation, to catch the preparation and the stir in the kitchen—Procul, O procul este profani! These hours are sacred to silence and to musing, to be treasured up in the memory, and to feed the source of smiling thoughts hereafter. I would not waste them in idle talk; or if I must have the integrity of fancy broken in upon, I would rather it were by a stranger than a friend. A stranger takes his hue and character from the time and place; he is a part of the furniture and costume of an inn. If he is a Quaker, or from the West Riding of Yorkshire, so much the better. I do not even try to sympathise with him, and he breaks no squares. I associate nothing with my travelling companion but present objects and passing events. In his ignorance of me and my affairs, I in a manner forget myself. But a friend reminds one of other things, rips up old grievances, and destroys the abstraction of the scene. He comes in ungraciously between us and our imaginary character. Something is dropped in the course of conversation that gives a hint of your profession and pursuits; or from having some one with you that knows the less sublime portions of your history, it seems that other people do. You are no longer a citizen of the world: but your unhoused free condition is put into circumscription and confine. The incognito of an inn is one of its striking privileges—lord of ones-self, uncumberd with a name. Oh! it is great to shake off the trammels of the world and of public opinion—to lose our importunate, tormenting, everlasting personal identity in the elements of nature, and become the creature of the moment, clear o f all ties—to hold to the universe only by a dish of sweet-breads, and to owe nothing but the score of the evening—and no longer seeking for applause and meeting with contempt, to be known by no other title than the Gentleman in the parlour! One may take ones choice of all characters in this romantic state of uncertainty as to ones real pretensions, and become indefinitely respectable and negatively right-worshipful. We baffle prejudice and  disappoint conjecture; and from being so to others, begin to be objects of curiosity and wonder even to ourselves. We are no more those hackneyed commonplaces that we appear in the world: an inn restores us to the level of nature, and quits scores with society! I have certainly spent some enviable hours at inns—sometimes when I have been left entirely to myself, and have tried to solve some metaphysical problem, as once at Witham-common, where I found out the proof that likeness is not a case of the association of ideas—at other times, when there have been pictures in the room, as at St. Neots, (I think it was) where I first met with Gribelins engravings of the Cartoons, into which I entered at once, and at a little inn on the borders of Wales, where there happened to be hanging some of Westalls drawings, which I compared triumphantly (for a theory that I had, not for the admired artist) with the figure of a girl who had ferried me over the Severn, standing up in the boat between me and the twilight—at other times I might mention luxuriating in books, with a peculiar interest in this way, as I remember sitting up half the night to read Paul and Virginia, which I picked up at an inn at Bridgewater, after being drenched in the rain all day; and at the same place I got through two volumes of Madame DArblays Camilla. It was on the tenth of April, 1798, that I sat down to a volume of the New Eloise, at the inn at Llangollen, over a bottle of sherry and a cold chicken. The letter I chose was that in which St. Preux describes his feelings as he first caught a glimpse from the heights of the Jura of the Pays de Vaud, which I had brought with me as a bon bouche to crown the evening with. It was my birth-day, and I had for the first time come from a place in the neighbourhood to visit this delightful spot. The road to Llangollen turns off between Chirk and Wrexham; and on passing a certain point, you come all at once upon the valley, which opens like an amphitheatre, broad, barren hills rising in majestic state on either side, with green upland swells that echo to the bleat of flocks below, and the river Dee babbling over its stony bed in the midst of them. The valley at this time glittered green with sunny showers, and a budding ash-tree dipped its tender branches in the chiding stream. How proud, how glad I was to walk along the high road that overlooks the delicious prospect, repeating the lines which I have just quoted from Mr. Coleridges poems. But besides the prospect which opened beneath my feet, another also opened to my inward  sight, a heavenly vision, on which were written, in letters large as Hope could make them, these four words, LIBERTY, GENIUS, LOVE, VIRTUE; which have since faded into the light of common day, or mock my idle gaze. The beautiful is vanished, and returns not. Still I would return some time or other to this enchanted spot; but I would return to it alone. What other self could I find to share that influx of thoughts, of regret, and delight, the fragments of which I could hardly conjure up to myself, so much have they been broken and defaced! I could stand on some tall rock, and overlook the precipice of years that separates me from what I then was. I was at that time going shortly to visit the poet whom I have above named. Where is he now? Not only I myself have changed; the world, which was then new to me, has become old and incorrigible. Yet will I turn to thee in thought, O sylvan Dee, in joy, in youth and gladness as thou then wert; and thou shalt always be to me the river of Paradise, where I will drink of the waters of life freely! There is hardly any thing that shows the short-sightedness or capriciousness of the imagination more than travelling does. With change of place we change our ideas; nay, our opinions and feelings. We can by an effort indeed transport ourselves to old and long-forgotten scenes, and then the picture of the mind revives again; but we forget those that we have just left. It seems that we can think but of one place at a time. The canvas of the fancy is but of a certain extent, and if we paint one set of objects upon it, they immediately efface every other. We cannot enlarge our conceptions, we only shift our point of view. The landscape bares its bosom to the enraptured eye, we take our fill of it, and seem as if we could form no other image of beauty or grandeur. We pass on, and think no more of it: the horizon that shuts it from our sight, also blots it from our memory like a dream. In travelling through a wild barren country, I can form no idea of a woody and cultivated one. It appears to me that all the world must be barren, like what I see of it. In the country we forget the town, and in town we despise the country. Beyond Hyde Park, says Sir Fopling Flutter, all is a desert. All that part of the map that we do not see before us is a blank. The world in our conceit of it is not much bigger than a nutshell. It is not one prospect expanded into another, county joined to county, kingdom to kingdom, lands to seas, making an image  voluminous and vast;—the mind can form no larger idea of space than the eye can take in at a single glance. The rest is a name written in a map, a calculation of arithmetic. For instance, what is the true signification of that immense mass of territory and population, known by the name of China to us? An inch of paste-board on a wooden globe, of no more account than a China orange! Things near us are seen of the size of life: things at a distance are diminished to the size of the understanding. We measure the universe by ourselves, and even comprehend the texture of our own being only piece-meal. In this way, however, we remember an infinity of things and places. The mind is like a mechanical instrument that plays a great variety of tunes, but it must play them in succession. One idea recalls another, but it at the same time excludes all others. In trying to renew old recollections, we cannot as it were unfold the whole web of our existence; we must pick out the single threads. So in coming to a place where we have formerly lived and with which we have intimate associations, every one must have found that the feeling grows more vivid the nearer we approach the spot, from the mere anticipation of the actual impression: we remember circumstances, feelings, persons, faces, names, that we had not thought of for years; but for the time all the rest of the world is forgotten!—To return to the question I have quitted above. I have no objection to go to see ruins, aqueducts, pictures, in company with a friend or a party, but rather the contrary, for the former reason reversed. They are intelligible matters, and will bear talking about. The sentiment here is not tacit, but communicable and overt. Salisbury Plain is barren of criticism, but Stonehenge will bear a discussion antiquarian, picturesque, and philosophical. In setting out on a party of pleasure, the first consideration always is where we shall go to: in taking a solitary ramble, the question is what we shall meet with by the way. The mind is its own place; nor are we anxious to arrive at the end of our journey. I can myself do the honours indifferently well to works of art and curiosity. I once took a party to Oxford with no mean eclat—shewed them that seat of the Muses at a distance, With glistering spires and pinnacles adornd—  descanted on the learned air that breathes from the grassy quadrangles and stone walls of halls and colleges—was at home in the Bodleian; and at  Blenheim quite superseded the powdered Ciceroni that attended us, and that pointed in vain with his wand to common-place beauties in matchless pictures.—A s another exception to the above reasoning, I should not feel confident in venturing on a journey in a foreign country without a companion. I should want at intervals to hear the sound of my own language. There is an involuntary antipathy in the mind of an Englishman to foreign manners and notions that requires the assistance of social sympathy to carry it off. As the distance from home increases, this relief, which was at first a luxury, becomes a passion and an appetite. A person would almost feel stifled to find himself in the deserts of Arabia without friends and countrymen: there must be allowed to be something in the view of Athens or old Rome that claims the utterance of speech; and I own that the Pyramids are too mighty for any simple contemplation. In such situations, so opposite to all ones ordinary train of ideas, one seems a species by ones-self, a limb torn off from society, unless one can meet with instant fellowship and support.—Yet I did not feel this want or craving very pressing once, when I first set my foot on the laughing shores of France. Calais was peopled with novelty and delight. The confused, busy murmur of the place was like oil and wine poured into m y ears; nor did the mariners hymn, which was sung from the top of an old crazy vessel in the harbour, as the sun went down, send an alien sound into my soul. I only breathed the air of general humanity. I walked over the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France, erect and satisfied; for the image of man was not cast down and chained to the foot of arbitrary thrones: I was at no loss for language, for that of all the great schools of painting was open to me. The whole is vanished like a shade. Pictures, heroes, glory, freedom, all are fled: nothing remains but the Bourbons and the French people!—There is undoubtedly a sensation in travelling into foreign parts that is to be had nowhere else: but it is more pleasing at the time than lasting. It is too remote from our habitual associations to be a common topic of discourse or reference, and, like a dream or another state of existence, does not piece into our daily modes of life. It is an animated but a momentary hallucination. It demands an effort to exchange our actual for our ideal identity; and to feel the pulse of our old transports revive very keenly, we must jump all our present comforts and connexions. Our romantic and itinerant character is not to be  domesticated. Dr. Johnson remarked how little foreign travel added to the facilities of conversation in those who had been abroad. In fact, the time we have spent there is both delightful and in one sense instructive; but it appears to be cut out of our substantial, downright existence, and never to join kindly on to it. We are not the same, but another, and perhaps more enviable individual, all the time we are out of our own country. We are lost to ourselves, as well as our friends. So the poet somewhat quaintly sings, Out of my country and myself I go. Those who wish to forget painful thoughts, do well to absent themselves for a while from the ties and objects that recal them: but we can be said only to fulfil our destiny in the place that gave us birth. I should on this account like well enough to spend the whole of my life in travelling abroad, if I could any where borrow another life to spend afterwards at home! Hazlitt.

The Dream :: essays research papers

A dream is defined as a condition or achievement that is longed for; an aspiration. Throughout the book the â€Å"Great Gatsby† we see the dream of one man, Jay Gatsby. Gatsby’s dream is not merely what is known as the American Dream-the belief that anyone can rise to success no matter who they are or where they are from. Instead, it is a form of romantic idealism, â€Å"some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life.† It is the belief in fairytales and princesses and happy endings, a faith that life can be special, remarkable, and beautiful. Gatsby is not interested in power or money instead he uses his power and money in his attempt to gain his ultimate dream, Daisy. He must have her and he will do anything that is required in order to win her. Unfortunately, Gatsby’s faith in love and happy endings is not a realistic one and his dream is ultimately crushed. However, one question is left behind, are dreams worth fighting for or should the fear of f ailure prevent one from attempting to fulfill their dreams.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In chapter I the reader is briefly introduced to Gatsby’s world. Nick describes Gatsby with such words as â€Å"crass and vulgar materialism†. However he admires Gatsby for his dream, his â€Å"romantic readiness,† his â€Å"extraordinary gift for hope.† What is this dream Nick admires so much? The reader is left with this question until chapter IV when Jordan Baker reveals Gatsby’s past and ultimately his dream. Jordan reveals to Nick that Gatsby and Daisy were one time lovers but Gatsby was suddenly called away to war and by the time he arrived home Daisy had already married Tom. Furthermore, Jordan explains, â€Å"Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay.† Nick shocked by what he has just learned states â€Å"he came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendor.† The large mansion, the Rolls Royce, station wagon, the motor boats, the aquaplanes, the swimming pool were not to display his wealth, but instead he just used them as a setting to build the material world necessary to fulfill his dream. He not only has built up a material world to attract Daisy he has come up with a plan to win her love. This plan is unfolded in Chapter IV, when the reader learns that Gatsby has arranged for Nick to invite Daisy for tea and makes sure Daisy doesn’t know he’ll be there, too.

Technology: Boon or Bane?

Day by day, technology advances only to deteriorate the health of those who use it. In the past years, scientists have spoon-fed people of all ages with attractive gadgets. However, the truth is technology has made humans less well-rounded individuals. Technology is a wonderful thing; there are cell phones with internet access and the capability to take pictures and videos. With computers, all the information you could ever want is available within a few keystrokes of a search engine. Contradicting those points is, just like everything else in life. Nothing is ever perfect and technology has its share of flaws. There are calculators, search engines, online forums and instant messengers that are making us socially and mentally handicapped. Video games are giving gamers a false sense of reality and teachings of violence. Finally, technology has in the past and is being used for the wrong reason of destroying the whole universe using weapons of mass destruction. People have questions every single day, and it is very normal and healthy to ask questions. This promotes the mental wellness of a human being; it also helps you learn more information which contributes to your general knowledge. With the invention of search engines and online forums, it has become easier to get your question answered. This is an asset to humans, however a human can become socially undeveloped and not have the confidence to talk with a person face to face and ask a question. Instant messengers have also contributed to the fact that people find it easier to talk over the internet, rather than face to face. The same rule applies to the mental strength of mankind. Math homework is less than a challenge for students of today. They pick up their calculators, type in a few numbers and write the answer down on the page claiming to their teachers that they have applied all their mental faculties to the questions. Though this method is extremely convenient, it is ruining our brain’s full capabilities. In order for something to run efficiently it must be utilized. The calculator does not permit the brain to be exercised before it can function properly. Video games provide unending fun, but it also gives the player unrealistic views about life. Computer and video games have come a long way since Space Invaders and Pac Man. â€Å"†¦numerous studies show that video games, especially ones with violent content, make teens more aggressive† (http://www. pamf. org/preteen/parents/videogames. html). Today's games are much more complex and interesting, and the technology has advanced to the point where a gamer can become immersed within the game. Video games provide the players with false ideas about saving the world and resulting to violence as a method of solving your problems with others. In other words it is making gamers become too unrealistic about the life they live and glorifying an unreal world. Technology has been used for the wrong reason of destroying the universe â€Å"[It] has dominated warfare since the early 1900s† (http://www. newscientist. com/topic/weapons). Majority of the population must agree with that comment. During the final stages of World War II in 1945, the United States conducted two atomic bombings against Japan in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki† (http://en. wikipedia. org/wiki/Atomic_bombings_of_Hiroshima_and_Nagasaki). The bombings were one of the earliest signs of a technological breakthrough which destroyed the earth, there is no doubt that it is evident to happen again, due to the technology advancing every day. Another recent example which is still fresh in our minds is t he event of 9/11, in which terrorists trained themselves on a computer to destroy the Twin Towers. With technology reaching insurmountable feats rapidly, it is destroying the planet and its inhabitants. Technology is deteriorating the well-roundedness of humans by allowing them to rely on manmade machines and become lethargic. Technology is making us socially and mentally dumb, giving false sense of reality. Weapons are being created using technology for the wrong reason of destroying the universe. For all those reasons it is suggested people should become further aware of the Trojan horse of today, which is technology.

History Of Germany During World War II - 1753 Words

History of Germany At the end of world war I germany was forced to give back a lot of land, later on Adolf Hitler became the leader of Germany and he enforced the Nazi party throughout Germany . Hitler s goals were to make Germany the best country by doing this he caused another world war. During World war II Germany was part of the axis powers. The axis powers at first was made up Germany, Ussr, Japan, and Italy. Throughout the war germany betrayed the USSR and broke the nazi-soviet pact. this caused for the ussr to join forces with the allies US, China, and Great Britain. hitler s main goal of leading germany was to make germany more powerful. he gained lebensraum or living space so they can have places grow crops because they were in a food shortage. Germany gained about 50 percent of europe. this was because post ww1 the kellogg briand-pact was formed and signed by the european countries, us , and Japan. 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The toilsome war, began from the formation and actions of the Axis powers, composed of Italy, Germany, andRead MoreBefore World War 2 Essay1603 Words   |  7 PagesAmerica http://www.history.com/topics/world-war-ii/us-home-front-during-world-war-ii http://www.u-s-history.com/pages/h1661.html https://www.nationalww2museum.org/students-teachers/student-resources/research-starters/america-goes-war-take-closer-look Before Before World War II I was still recovering from the toll World War I had on me. Though World War I was bad for my economy, it proved to all countries that I was not to be messed with. Although I am viewed as very powerful, I have tried to remainRead MoreThe World War II: Air War1180 Words   |  5 Pages World War II was one of the deadliest military conflicts in history. There were many different battles that took place within this war; some more important than others. World War II began once Germany’s new dictator, Adolf Hitler, decided that he wanted to gain power for Germany and for himself. One of Hitler’s first moves in power was invading Poland on September 1, 1939. Many other countries became involved in this war because of the alliance system. The two sides during this war were the AlliesRead MoreThe Halves That Were Not Equal1168 Words   |  5 PagesThat Were Not Equal After Nazi Germany’s fall in the civil war, Germany was split into two parts separated by the Berlin Wall. The soviets had control of the east and the allied powers controlled the west.The division of Germany was not beneficial to both the allied west and the soviet east because the soviet east was under the rule of a socialist government and their citizens had no rights. The Division of Germany caused Germany to divide into a east and west side, the east was under theRead MoreWhy Was Germany Most Significant Influential Country During World Wars So After Losing World War II?1429 Words   |  6 Pages Why was Germany most significant influential country during World Wars even after losing World War I and World War II? By: Kinjal Shah 12TH February 2017 University of Massachusetts Lowell Abstract: Germany’s Role in both World War had been pivotal and there are several reasons to why that happened and various facts to support the idea that it had influenced whole of the Europe. Hitler was appointed chancellor by the President of Weimar republic on 30 January 1933. The Nazi PartyRead MoreThe World Of World War II1058 Words   |  5 PagesWorld War II The world has experienced many wars. However, two of them have particularly influenced the world history, World War I and World War II. However, the most pronounced among the two is World War II. World War II was a global war, which took place between 1939 and 1945. This war grew out of issues left unresolved by earlier conflicts of World War I. It involved virtually every part of the world. The primary combatants were the Axis powers- Germany, Italy and Japan and the Allies- France