Memories, guesses, and imaginations bring mixed feelings to many readers, who can't help but experience the pain, anxiety, and anger of the past, as well as mischievous expectations and bewildered curiosity. The psychological processes they re-experience come together, like a trickle into a river and then into the sea, in Robbe-Grillet's Jealousy. All the descriptions show Robbe-Grillet's loyalty to the eyes. He lets the narrative close the door of the heart and emotion, just see it, and nothing else. It was as if a camera was working, and there was no "hissing" machine sound. Because of this, Robbe-Grillet's "Jealousy" may become a sea of jealousy. The writing of Ernest Hemingway and Robbe-Grillet actually answers a long-standing question-what is psychological description? This technical term, which exists in textbooks, literary dictionaries and all kinds of writing and criticism, is actually a wrong signpost, which only leads the narrator to an endless and bewildered distance. Keep the narrator away from the heart, not close. William Faulkner answers this question in the same way in his short story Walsh. This story is as rugged and powerful as Faulkner's other stories, full of sweat and dust. Two white men, Sedpan and Walsh,industrial racking systems, the former became masters because of his wealth, while the poor Walsh, although he often got a sense of superiority from his skin color from the blacks, was still a slave, a white slave in Sedpan's family. When the master, who was over sixty like him, made his granddaughter,High Density Storage Drive In Rack, who was only fifteen years old, pregnant, Walsh did not feel angry or even uneasy. And so the story begins, with Walsh's granddaughter Mirri lying on a straw mat next to her newborn daughter, Sedpan's daughter. Sedpan got up early that day, not for Mirri's birth, but for the foal of his family's mare, Grisaida. Sedpan stood by Mirri's straw mat and looked at Mirri and the child beside her. "It's a pity you're not a mare," he said. Otherwise, I can give you a decent stable. Sedpan exulted over the male colt that Glisaida had given birth to in the morning. "Male," he said. A squawking foal. Then he pointed the whip at his daughter. "What about this?" "It's a female, I think." The narrative suggests a violent end from the beginning. Faulkner moves the narrative forward in the comparison of the woman and the mare, where Sedpan seems to have become the husband of the mare, and the foal born to Griselda allows Sedpan to express some paternal pride. Walsh's granddaughter, shuttle rack system ,push back racking system, Mirri, was just a slave to him, and the child beside her, though also his child, was just another slave in his eyes. Faulkner's narrative provides an indestructible reason for Walsh to kill the dehumanized Sedpan with a scythe, which is as acceptable as slaughtering a horse. Then the difficulty of narration begins, or the despair of psychological description begins. If Walsh just had a glass of whiskey, it's not difficult to show his heart, and any simple narrative can be competent to let him tell himself, "I just had a glass of whiskey." Or add "it tastes good" or "I haven't had it in a long time.". If the desire to describe continues to expand, then you can put your heart into a state of idleness, as Marcel Proust often did in Remembrance of the Past- "I know in my heart that I put myself in the most disadvantageous position at that time, and eventually I will get the most severe punishment from my elders." In fact, outsiders can't estimate it. They may think.. Proust is good at letting his characters pass the time in their leisure time, making their hearts longer and longer in the memory of the past, and finally making a very favorable summary for themselves. If Walsh had just raised a glass instead of a sickle, Walsh Jones, who had drunk the best whiskey, would probably have lain in the shade of a tree. The pauper would have searched for memory and imagination like Swan, for all the whiskey he had drunk and not drunk. If time permitted, he would have summed up himself and said some epigrams and aphorisms. However, the reality made Walsh choose the sickle and kill Sedpan. How to describe the heart of a man who has just killed someone? William Faulkner wrote that when he entered the house again, his granddaughter moved on the straw mat and called his name angrily. What's the matter? She asked. What? What is it? Dear "There's a lot of noise out there." "Nothing happened." He said softly.. Walsh Jones was surprisingly calm, helping his granddaughter drink water and then comforting her tears. But his movements were "clumsy" and his posture standing there was "stiff" and gloomy. He got an idea, an idea that had nothing to do with slashing Sedpan: "Women.." They want children, but when they get children, they cry for it. No man can understand. Then he sat at the window. William Faulkner went on to write: The whole morning, long, bright, and full of sunshine, sat at the window, too, waiting. Every now and then, he got up and went on tiptoe to the straw mat. His granddaughter was now asleep, her face dark, calm, and tired, and the baby lay in her arms. Then he went back to the chair and sat down again. He waited. He wondered why they had delayed so long, and then he remembered that it was Sunday. Halfway through the morning, as he was sitting, a half-grown white boy turned the corner, met the dead body, gasped, looked up,industrial racking systems, saw Walsh at the window, seemed hypnotized for a moment, and then turned and ran away. So Walsh got up and tiptoed to the straw bed. kingmoreracking.com