Personification in the story "All Summer in a Day" by Ray Bradbury includes:
1. "And this was the way life was forever on the planet Venus" - giving life-like qualities to the concept of life on the planet Venus.
2. "Sometimes, at night, she heard them stir, in remembrance" - attributing human-like actions (stirring) to the children's memories.
3. "the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof" - the rain is described as shaking down bead necklaces, personifying the rain.
4. "the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair" - suggesting that the rain has the power to wash out colors, attributing human-like actions to rain.
find personificcation in this story
“All Summer in a Day”
by Ray Bradbury
The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed,
peering out for a look at the hidden sun. It rained. It had been raining for seven
years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to
the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of
showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over
the islands. A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a
thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was forever on the
planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and
women who had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their
lives.
"It's stopping, it's stopping!"
"Yes, yes!"
Margot stood apart from them, from these children who could never remember a
time when there wasn't rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if
there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out for an hour and
showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at night,
she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and
remembering gold or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with.
She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in
the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they always awoke to
the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof,
the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone. All day yesterday
they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot.
And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it: I think the sun is a
flower; That blooms for just one hour. That was Margot's poem, read in a quiet
voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.
"Aw, you didn't write that!" protested one of the boys.
"I did," said Margot, "I did."
"William!" said the teacher.
But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the children were
crushed in the great thick windows.
"Where's teacher?"
"She'll be back."
"She'd better hurry; we'll miss it!"
They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes. Margot stood
alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for
years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her
mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an
album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost. Now she
stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.
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