The Fly

The author is trying to share the idea that sometimes people and things will bring you down, but you have to fight no matter what. Also that sometimes you will win, sometimes you will lose, and that's alright in order to have balance in your life and learn from these experiences.

" Y'ARE very snug in here,""It's snug in here, upon my word ! "" D'you know," said he,

" Quite right, quite right! " cried the boss, though what was quite right he hadn't the least idea.He wanted, he intended, he had arranged to weep... (also tone?)Time, he had declared then, he had told everybody, could make no difference.Six years ago, six years ... 

And the man from whom I got it told me on the strict Q.T. it came from the cellars at Windsor Cassel."

the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day  It's beautiful stuff. It wouldn't hurt a childIt was exactly as though the earth had opened  Life itself had come to have no other meaning.

and still going strongSomething seemed to be wrong with him. He wasn't feeling as he wanted to feel. 

full view of that frail old figure in the muffler.Paragraph 3 (most of it)

Poor old chap, he's on his last pins, thought the boss. 

paragraph 4

He wanted, he intended, he had arranged to weep...unchanged, unblemished in his uniform

This short story took me by surprise a couple of times; the part about the son and what happened to the fly. I thought for sure the fly would live and that will inspire the boss. At the beginning of the story I was analyzing every sentence but then I got so engulfed on the third page that I did not take many notes.

"we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves."Help ! help ! said those struggling legs.

" So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and staring almost greedily at the boss, who rolled in his office chair, stout, rosy, five years older than he, and still going strong, still at the helm. "

Couldn't be better if they were at homeRobbery, I call it.

 dodged in and out of his cubby hole like a dog that expects to be taken for a run It was exactly as though the earth had opened 

short of a violent fit of weeping could relieve himhanded him the telegram that brought the whole place crashing about his head.

The fly was dead.

great, green leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. Whisky it was.He tossed off his, pulled out his handkerchief, hastily wiped his moustaches, and cocked an eye at old Woodifield, who was rolling his in his chaps.except as lying unchanged, unblemished in his uniform, asleep for ever (also tone?)Ever since his birth the boss had worked at building up this business for him ; it had no other meaning if it was not for the boy