Differences between primary and secondary research Paper

Differences between primary and secondary - Research Paper Example â€Å"These original documents (i.e., they are not about another document or account) are often diaries, letters, memoirs, journals, speeches, manuscripts, interviews and other such unpublished works† (University of California Santa Cruz, 2011). The primary source is original and encapsulates a lot of creativity. The information is factual rather than interpretive. Primary references report the scientific discoveries in detail. In scientific studies, they not only narrate the conclusions, but also sufficiently discuss the clinical trials as well as the experiments that make part of the research. The discussion is completely factual. Secondary research upon humanities encapsulates analysis and interpretation of the primary sources. The event discussed happens in the past and only a second-hand account of the same is generated. Creative works are interpreted in the secondary research. In the secondary research, research outcomes and scientific discoveries are analyzed and interp reted. Primary sources consume more time in retrieving than the secondary sources. This is because of the fact that to retrieve information from the primary sources, the researcher needs to approach the respondent. The first and the foremost obstacle in way of retrieving information from a primary source is that the researcher needs to take an appointment from the respondent. ... It is for the researcher to decide whether the interview has to be structured, semi-structured or non-structured. Once everything is ready, the researcher still might encounter inconvenience collecting the data as the respondent might not feel comfortable discussing certain issues that are of prime interest to the researcher. Therefore, most researchers refer to the primary data only when there is insufficient information in the secondary sources (Duval, 2005). Nevertheless, because of the researcher’s use of â€Å"telephone surveys, computerized data analysis, and use of cell phones and pagers† (Benfield and Szlemko, 2006, p. 2), primary data is not as difficult to collect in the present age as it used to be in the past. On the other hand, secondary sources are very easy to retrieve the information from. All the researcher needs is access to the required material. â€Å"Marketing researchers use secondary information because it can be obtained at a fraction of the cos t, time, and inconvenience of primary data collection† (McDaniel and Gates, 1998, p. 75). Examples of the primary sources about humanities are letters, diaries and journals. Data is retrieved from magazines and newspapers. Photographs, government records, one-to-one interviews with the concerned parties and paintings are all included in the primary resources. Sources conventionally used for the scientific research include but are not limited to the published results of experiments, conferences and clinical trials. Examples of the secondary sources include histories, biographies, books, newspaper articles and scientific journals (Thomas, 2010). Nielsen

John Walker :: essays research papers

John Walker Lindh, the American accused of fighting alongside the Taleban, has been formally indicted on 10 charges of conspiring to kill fellow Americans. The US is a country of laws, not of men... Walker Lindh only recognised the law of brute force US Attorney General John Ashcroft The indictment, which was handed down by a grand jury in eastern Virginia, formalised the six charges filed against him last month and added four more. The 10-count charge sheet represents the next step in the case against the 20-year-old Californian Muslim. He faces multiple life sentences if convicted. Asked at a press conference whether the government would ask the grand jury to charge Mr Walker with treason, US Attorney Paul J McNulty said: "As far as other charges, we have the opportunity or right to have a superseding indictment if the evidence justifies that." 'Trained terrorist' Announcing the indictment at the US Justice Department, Attorney General John Ashcroft said it described Mr Walker as "an al-Qaeda-trained terrorist who conspired with the Taleban to kill his fellow citizens." He said the indictment was based in part on voluntary statements made Mr Walker. The new charges are: Conspiracy to contribute services to al-Qaeda Contributing services to the network Conspiracy to supply services to the Taleban Using and carrying firearms and destructive devices during crimes of violence Mr Walker had already been charged with: Conspiracy to murder US citizens or US nationals Two counts of conspiracy to provide material support and resources to designated foreign terrorist organisations Two counts of providing material support and resources to terrorist organisations Supplying services to the Taleban Mr Ashcroft said the indictment presented a timeline of Mr Walker's involvement with terrorism. The charge sheet said that in early summer 2001, Mr Walker was in an al-Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan. Later, as the network made their alleged preparation for the attacks of 11 September, Mr Walker was "forging ever deeper bonds" with al-Qaeda and met America's foremost suspect, Osama Bin Laden, Mr Ashcroft said. Mr Ashcroft said that on the day of 11 September, Mr Walker was fighting alongside the Taleban in Afghanistan, and in the weeks after the attack he remained with his fighting camp, despite knowing about the suicide attacks and being aware that additional attacks were planned. Walker's father is standing by his son

The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening Chapter Four

By the time Elena reached her locker, the numbness was wearing off and the lump in her throat was trying to dissolve into tears. But she wouldn't cry at school, she told herself, shewouldn't . After closing her locker, she made for the main exit. For the second day in a row, she was coming home from school right after the last bell, and alone. Aunt Judith wouldn't be able to cope. But when Elena reached her house, Aunt Judith's car was not in the driveway; she and Margaret must have gone out to the market. The house was still and peaceful as Elena let herself in. She was glad for that stillness; she wanted to be alone right now. But, on the other hand, she didn't exactly know what to do with herself. Now that she finallycould cry, she found that tears wouldn't come. She let her backpack sag to the floor in the front hall and walked slowly into the living room. It was a handsome, impressive room, the only part of the house besides Elena's bedroom that belonged to the original structure. That first house had been built before 1861, and had been almost completely burned in the Civil War. All that could be saved was this room, with its elaborate fireplace framed by scrolled molding, and the big bedroom above. Elena's father's greatgrandfather had built a new house, and Gilberts had lived in it ever since. Elena turned to look out of one of the ceiling-to-floor windows. The glass was so old that it was thick and wavery, and everything outside was distorted, looking slightly tipsy. She remembered the first time her father had showed her that wavery old glass, when she had been younger than Margaret was now. The fullness in her throat was back, but still no tears would come. Everything inside her was contradictory. She didn't want company, and yet she was achingly lonely. Shedid want to think, but now that she was trying to, her thoughts eluded her like mice running from a white owl. White owl†¦ hunting bird†¦ flesh eater†¦ crow, she thought. â€Å"Biggest crow I've ever seen,† Matt had said. Her eyes stung again. Poor Matt. She'd hurt him, but he'd been so nice about it. He'd even been nice to Stefan. Stefan . Her heart thudded once, hard, squeezing two hot tears out of her eyes. There, she was crying at last. She was crying with anger and humiliation and frustration-and what else? What had she really lost today? What did she really feel for this stranger, this Stefan Salvatore? He was a challenge, yes, and that made him different, interesting. Stefan was exotic†¦ exciting. Funny, that was what guys had sometimes told Elena she was. And later she heard from them, or from their friends or sisters, how nervous they were before going out with her, how their palms got sweaty and their stomachs were full of butterflies. Elena had always found such stories amusing. No boy she'd ever met in her life had made her nervous. But when she'd spoken to Stefan today, her pulse had been racing, her knees weak. Her palms had been wet. And there hadn't been butterflies in her stomach-there had been bats. She was interested in the guy because he made her feel nervous? Not a very good reason, Elena, she told herself. In fact, a very bad reason. But there was also that mouth. That sculpted mouth that made her knees weak with something entirely different than nervousness. And that night-dark hair-her fingers itched to weave themselves into its softness. That lithe, flat-muscled body, those long legs†¦ and thatvoice . It was his voice that had decided her yesterday, making her absolutely determined to have him. His voice had been cool and disdainful when talking to Mr. Tanner, but strangely compelling for all that. She wondered if it could turn night-dark as well, and how it would sound saying her name, whispering her name†¦ â€Å"Elena!† Elena jumped, her reverie shattered. But it wasn't Stefan Salvatore calling her, it was Aunt Judith rattling the front door open. â€Å"Elena? Elena!† And that was Margaret, her voice shrill and piping. â€Å"Are you home?† Misery welled up in Elena again, and she glanced around the kitchen. She couldn't face her aunt's worried questions or Margaret's innocent cheerfulness right now. Not with her eyelashes wet and new tears threatening any minute. She made a lightning decision and quietly slipped out the back door as the front door banged shut. Once off the back porch and into the yard, she hesitated. She didn't want to run into anyone she knew. But where could she go to be alone? The answer came almost instantly. Of course. She'd go see Mom and Dad. It was a fairly long walk, almost to the edge of town, but over the last three years it had become familiar to Elena. She crossed over Wickery Bridge and climbed up the hill, past the ruined church, then down into the little valley below. This part of the cemetery was well-kept; it was the old section that was allowed to run slightly wild. Here, the grass was neatly trimmed, and bouquets of flowers made splashes of bright color. Elena sat down by the big marble headstone with â€Å"Gilbert† carved into the front. â€Å"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,† she whispered. She leaned over to place a purple impatiens blossom she'd picked along the way in front of the marker. Then she curled her legs under her and just sat. She'd come here often after the accident. Margaret had been only one at the time of the car crash; she didn't really remember them. But Elena did. Now she let her mind leaf back through memories, and the lump in her throat swelled, and the tears came easier. She missed them so much, still. Mother, so young and beautiful, and Father, with a smile that crinkled up his eyes. She was lucky to have Aunt Judith, of course. It wasn't every aunt who would quit her job and move back into a little town to take care of two orphaned nieces. And Robert, Aunt Judith's fianc ¦, was more like a stepfather to Margaret than an uncle-to-be by marriage. But Elena remembered her parents. Sometimes, right after the funeral, she had come out here to rage at them, angry with them for being so stupid as to get themselves killed. That was when she hadn't known Aunt Judith very well, and had felt there was nowhere on earth she belonged anymore. Where did she belong now? she wondered. The easy answer was, here, in Fell's Church, where she'd lived all her life. But lately the easy answer seemed wrong. Lately she felt there must be something else out there for her, some place she would recognize at once and call home. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, startled. For an instant, the two figures standing over her were alien, unfamiliar, vaguely menacing. She stared, frozen. â€Å"Elena,† said the smaller figure fussily, hands on hips, â€Å"sometimes I worry about you, I really do.† Elena blinked and then laughed shortly. It was Bonnie and Meredith. â€Å"What does a person have to do to get a little privacy around here?† she said as they sat down. â€Å"Tell us to go away,† suggested Meredith, but Elena just shrugged. Meredith and Bonnie had often come out here to find her in the months after the accident. Suddenly, she felt glad about that, and grateful to them both. If nowhere else, she belonged with the friends who cared about her. She didn't mind if they knew she had been crying, and she accepted the crumpled tissue Bonnie offered her and wiped her eyes. The three of them sat together in silence for a little while, watching the wind ruffle the stand of oak trees at the edge of the cemetery. â€Å"I'm sorry about what happened,† Bonnie said at last, in a soft voice. â€Å"That was really terrible.† â€Å"And your middle name is ‘Tact,' † said Meredith. â€Å"It couldn't have been that bad, Elena.† â€Å"You weren't there.† Elena felt herself go hot all over again at the memory. â€Å"Itwas terrible. But I don't care anymore,† she added flatly, defiantly. â€Å"I'm finished with him. I don't want him anyway.† â€Å"Elena!† â€Å"I don't, Bonnie. He obviously thinks he's too good for-for Americans. So he can just take those designer sunglasses and†¦Ã¢â‚¬  There were snorts of laughter from the other girls. Elena wiped her nose and shook her head. â€Å"So,† she said to Bonnie, determinedly changing the subject, â€Å"at least Tanner seemed in a better mood today.† Bonnie looked martyred. â€Å"Do you know that he made me sign up to be the very first one to give my oral report? I don't care, though; I'm going to do mine on the druids, and-† â€Å"On the what?† â€Å"Droo-ids. The weird old guys who built Stonehenge and did magic and stuff in ancient England. I'm descended from them, and that's why I'm psychic.† Meredith snorted, but Elena frowned at the blade of grass she was twirling between her fingers. â€Å"Bonnie, did you really see something yesterday in my palm?† she asked abruptly. Bonnie hesitated. â€Å"I don't know,† she said at last. â€Å"I-Ithought I did then. But sometimes my imagination runs away with me.† â€Å"She knew you were here,† said Meredith unexpectedly. â€Å"I thought of looking at the coffee shop, but Bonnie said, ‘She's at the cemetery.' † â€Å"Did I?† Bonnie looked faintly surprised but impressed. â€Å"Well, there you see. My grandmother in Edinburgh has the second sight and so do I. It always skips a generation.† â€Å"And you're descended from the druids,† Meredith said solemnly. â€Å"Well, it's true! In Scotland they keep up the old traditions. You wouldn't believe some of the things my grandmother does. She has a way to find out who you're going to marry and when you're going to die. She told me I'm going to die early.† â€Å"Bonnie!† â€Å"She did. I'm going to be young and beautiful in my coffin. Don't you think that's romantic?† â€Å"No, I don't. I think it's disgusting,† said Elena. The shadows were getting longer, and the wind had a chill to it now. â€Å"So who are you going to marry, Bonnie?† Meredith put in deftly. â€Å"I don't know. My grandmother told me the ritual for finding out, but I never tried it. Of course†-Bonnie struck a sophisticated pose-â€Å"he has to be outrageously rich and totally gorgeous. Like our mysterious dark stranger, for example. Particularly if nobody else wants him.† She cast a wicked glance at Elena. Elena refused the bait. â€Å"What about Tyler Smallwood?† she murmured innocently. â€Å"His father's certainly rich enough.† â€Å"And he's not bad-looking,† agreed Meredith solemnly. â€Å"That is, of course, if you're an animal lover. All those big white teeth.† The girls looked at each other and then simultaneously burst into laughter. Bonnie threw a handful of grass at Meredith, who brushed it off and threw a dandelion back at her. Somewhere in the middle of it, Elena realized that she was going to be all right. She was herself again, not lost, not a stranger, but Elena Gilbert, the queen of Robert E. Lee. She pulled the apricot ribbon out of her hair and shook the hair free about her face. â€Å"I've decided what to domy oral report on,† she said, watching with narrow eyes as Bonnie finger-combed grass out of her curls. â€Å"What?† said Meredith. Elena tilted her chin up to gaze at the red and purple sky above the hill. She took a thoughtful breath and let the suspense build for a moment. Then she said coolly, â€Å"The Italian Renaissance.† Bonnie and Meredith stared at her, then looked at each other and burst into whoops of laughter again. â€Å"Aha,† said Meredith when they recovered. â€Å"So the tiger returneth.† Elena gave her a feral grin. Her shaken confidence had returned to her. And though she didn't understand it herself, she knew one thing: she wasn't going to let Stefan Salvatore get away alive. â€Å"All right,† she said briskly. â€Å"Now, listen, you two. Nobody else can know about this, or I'll be the laughingstock of the school. And Caroline would just love any excuse to make me look ridiculous. But I do still want him, and I'm going to have him. I don't know how yet, but I am. Until I come up with a plan, though, we're going to give him the cold shoulder.† â€Å"Oh,we are?† â€Å"Yes,we are. You can't have him, Bonnie; he's mine. And I have to be able to trust you completely.† â€Å"Wait a minute,† said Meredith, a glint in her eye. She unclasped the cloisonne pin from her blouse, then, holding up her thumb, made a quick jab. â€Å"Bonnie, give me your hand.† â€Å"Why?† said Bonnie, eyeing the pin suspiciously. â€Å"Because I want to marry you. Why do you think, idiot?† â€Å"But-but-Oh, all right. Ow!† â€Å"Now you, Elena.† Meredith pricked Elena's thumb efficiently, and then squeezed it to get a drop of blood. â€Å"Now,† she continued, looking at the other two with sparkling dark eyes, â€Å"we all press our thumbs together and swear. Especially you, Bonnie. Swear to keep this secret and to do whatever Elena asks in relation to Stefan.† â€Å"Look, swearing with blood is dangerous,† Bonnie protested seriously. â€Å"It means you have to stick to your oath no matter what happens, no matterwhat , Meredith.† â€Å"I know,† said Meredith grimly. â€Å"That's why I'm telling you to do it. I remember what happened with Michael Martin.† Bonnie made a face. â€Å"That was years ago, and we broke up right away anyway and-Oh, all right. I'll swear.† Closing her eyes, she said, â€Å"I swear to keep this a secret and to do anything Elena asks about Stefan.† Meredith repeated the oath. And Elena, staring at the pale shadows of their thumbs joined together in the gathering dusk, took a long breath and said softly, â€Å"And I swear not to rest until he belongs to me.† A gust of cold wind blew through the cemetery, fanning the girls' hair out and sending dry leaves fluttering on the ground. Bonnie gasped and pulled back, and they all looked around, then giggled nervously. â€Å"It's dark,† said Elena, surprised. â€Å"We'd better get started home,† Meredith said, refastening her pin as she stood up. Bonnie stood, too, putting the tip of her thumb into her mouth. â€Å"Good-bye,† said Elena softly, facing the headstone. The purple blossom was a blur on the ground. She picked up the apricot ribbon that lay next to it, turned, and nodded to Bonnie and Meredith. â€Å"Let's go.† Silently, they headed up the hill toward the ruined church. The oath sworn in blood had given them all a solemn feeling, and as they passed the ruined church Bonnie shivered. With the sun down, the temperature had dropped abruptly, and the wind was rising. Each gust sent whispers through the grass and made the ancient oak trees rattle their dangling leaves. â€Å"I'm freezing,† Elena said, pausing for a moment by the black hole that had once been the church door and looking down at the landscape below. The moon had not yet risen, and she could just make out the old graveyard and Wickery Bridge beyond it. The old graveyard dated from Civil War days, and many of the headstones bore the names of soldiers. It had a wild look to it; brambles and tall weeds grew on the graves, and ivy vines swarmed over crumbling granite. Elena had never liked it. â€Å"It looks different, doesn't it? In the dark, I mean,† she said unsteadily. She didn't know how to say what she really meant, that it was not a place for the living. â€Å"We could go the long way,† said Meredith. â€Å"But that would mean another twenty minutes of walking.† â€Å"I don't mind going this way,† said Bonnie, swallowing hard. â€Å"I always said I wanted to be buried down there in the old one.† â€Å"Will you stop talking about being buried!† Elena snapped, and she started down the hill. But the farther down the narrow path she got, the more uncomfortable she felt. She slowed until Bonnie and Meredith caught up with her. As they neared the first headstone, her heart began beating fast. She tried to ignore it, but her whole skin was tingling with awareness and the fine hairs on her arms were standing up. Between the gusts of wind, every sound seemed horribly magnified; the crunching of their feet on the leaf-strewn path was deafening. The ruined church was a black silhouette behind them now. The narrow path led between the lichen-encrusted headstones, many of which stood taller than Meredith. Big enough for something to hide behind, thought Elena uneasily. Some of the tombstones themselves were unnerving, like the one with the cherub that looked like a real baby, except that its head had fallen off and had been carefully placed by its body. The wide granite eyes of the head were blank. Elena couldn't look away from it, and her heart began to pound. â€Å"Why are we stopping?† said Meredith. â€Å"I just†¦ I'm sorry,† Elena murmured, but when she forced herself to turn she immediately stiffened. â€Å"Bonnie?† she said. â€Å"Bonnie, what's wrong?† Bonnie was staring straight out into the graveyard, her lips parted, her eyes as wide and blank as the stone cherub's. Fear washed through Elena's stomach. â€Å"Bonnie, stop it. Stop it! It's not funny.† Bonnie made no reply. â€Å"Bonnie!† said Meredith. She and Elena looked at each other, and suddenly Elena knew she had to get away. She whirled to start down the path, but a strange voice spoke behind her, and she jerked around. â€Å"Elena,† the voice said. It wasn't Bonnie's voice, but it came from Bonnie's mouth. Pale in the darkness, Bonnie was still staring out into the graveyard. There was no expression on her face at all. â€Å"Elena,† the voice said again, and added, as Bonnie's head turned toward her, â€Å"there's someone waiting out there for you.† Elena never quite knew what happened in the next few minutes. Something seemed to move out among the dark humped shapes of the headstones, shifting and rising between them. Elena screamed and Meredith cried out, and then they were both running, and Bonnie was running with them, screaming, too. Elena pounded down the narrow path, stumbling on rocks and clumps of grass root. Bonnie was sobbing for breath behind her, and Meredith, calm and cynical Meredith, was panting wildly. There was a sudden thrashing and a shriek in an oak tree above them, and Elena found that she could run faster. â€Å"There's something behind us,† cried Bonnie shrilly. â€Å"Oh, God, what's happening?† â€Å"Get to the bridge,† gasped Elena through the fire in her lungs. She didn't know why, but she felt they had to make it there. â€Å"Don't stop, Bonnie! Don't look behind you!† She grabbed the other girl's sleeve and pulled her around. â€Å"I can't make it,† Bonnie sobbed, clutching her side, her pace faltering. â€Å"Yes, you can,† snarled Elena, grabbing Bonnie's sleeve again and forcing her to keep moving. â€Å"Come on.Come on!† She saw the silver gleam of water before them. And there was the clearing between the oak trees, and the bridge just beyond. Elena's legs were wobbling and her breath was whistling in her throat, but she wouldn't let herself lag behind. Now she could see the wooden planks of the footbridge. The bridge was twenty feet away from them, ten feet away, five. â€Å"We made it,† panted Meredith, feet thundering on the wood. â€Å"Don't stop! Get to the other side!† The bridge creaked as they ran staggering across it, their steps echoing across the water. When she jumped onto packed dirt on the far shore, Elena let go of Bonnie's sleeve at last, and allowed her legs to stumble to a halt. Meredith was bent over, hands on thighs, deep-breathing. Bonnie was crying. â€Å"What was it? Oh, what was it?† she said. â€Å"Is it still coming?† â€Å"I thought you were the expert,† Meredith said unsteadily. â€Å"For God's sake, Elena, let's get out of here.† â€Å"No, it's all right now,† Elena whispered. There were tears in her own eyes and she was shaking all over, but the hot breath at the back of her neck had gone. The river stretched between her and it, the waters a dark tumult. â€Å"It can't follow us here,† she said. Meredith stared at her, then at the other shore with its clustered oak trees, then at Bonnie. She wet her lips and laughed shortly. â€Å"Sure. It can't follow us. But let's go home anyway, all right? Unless you feel like spending the night out here.† Some unnameable feeling shuddered through Elena. â€Å"Not tonight, thanks,† she said. She put an arm around Bonnie, who was still sniffling. â€Å"It's okay, Bonnie. We're safe now. Come on.† Meredith was looking across the river again. â€Å"You know, I don't see a thing back there,† she said, her voice calmer. â€Å"Maybe there wasn't anything behind us at all; maybe we just panicked and scared ourselves. With a little help from the druid priestess here.† Elena said nothing as they started walking, keeping very close together on the dirt path. But she wondered. She wondered very much.

Sexuality, Corruption, and Power Dynamics in the Bloody...

Sexuality, corruption and power dynamics in The Bloody Chamber Sexuality is a prevalent theme in Angela Carter’s story The Bloody Chamber. Sexual violence within a relationship often reveals aspects of each party’s identity and character as well as affects its power dynamics. Carter depicts sex both explicitly and implicitly in the story through the heroine’s own thoughts of her newfound sexuality and her sexual experiences with the Marquis. Carter’s implicit and explicit portrayals of sex and sexuality in The Bloody Chamber reflect changes in the power dynamic between the heroine and the Marquis throughout the text, develop the identity of the heroine and reveal aspects of the Marquis’ character, and challenge notions of gender. The†¦show more content†¦The Marquis fits the description of a power-hungry, domineering male, and the heroine that of a naive, innocent girl who obeys her husband. The heroine’s naivety is reflected when she says she is â€Å"bemused that, after those others, he should now have chosen me.† She obviously does not understand that the reason he is not still in mourning for his last wife is because he murdered her. Carter’s explicit portrayal of sex occurs when the Marquis first shows the heroine the mirrored room and disrobes her. The heroine narrates the scene as if she is describing a rape, similar to the ones in the Marquis’ collection of pornographic paintings: â€Å"And when nothing but my scarlet, palpitating core remained, I saw, in the mirror, the living image of an etching by Rops from the collection he had shown me when our engagement permitted us to be alone together.† (Carter, 15). When the Marquis later takes the heroine’s virginity, it is a form of punishment for the heroine’s disobedience in perusing his collection of books. This reveals the power dynamic that will present itself again in the story, of the Marquis setting the heroine up to disobey him, then punishing her. He makes her wear the choker of rubies as if it is a collar, kisses it before he kisses her, and â€Å"twines her hair into a rope† as if it is a weapon he could use to hurt her. These actionsShow MoreRelatedSAT Top 30 Essay Evidence18536 Words   |  75 Pagesgoods - became much more dangerous to travel, and many navigators and traders were seeking an alternate route to these important trade partners to secure profits and power. The ruling monarchs of the time wanted to secure such a profitable route, and the ever-ambitious Columbus devised plans to sail to the Indies to earn rewards of power, money, and fame. The ambitions of the rulers and of the explorer would eventually lead to conflict between them. His estimations of the distances involved were