Conclusions An essay's conclusion should recall, not repeat, the introduction. A conclusion may summarize the main argument of the essay, but this summary should remain brief and sharply focused. Deadly and deathly are conclusions in the order of, “As we have seen” and “as I promised you.” A good conclusion, thus, should close the essay and lead the reader out of and beyond the argument. Conclusions should not introduce wholly new or unanticipated ideas, and they should never apologize. Here are some ideas then that writers have found to form the basis of an effective and powerful conclusions: Redefine a keyterm or problem you have touched on before. Discuss the wider implications of the essay's thesis: to a central issue considered in a broader context (perhaps involving a wider set of people); to the way we understand the thesis in light of current events; to central issues in the course or lectures. Explore the suggestions of evidence that may not be definitive. Propose a larger or a more complex question--one raised by your analysis but beyond the scope of the essay. Suggesting points for further discussion, points which grow from but are beyond the scope of your discussion. Offer an image, anecdote, or example from your sources or the world beyond, one that, in some way, dramatizes your central point – the more vivid the better. Recall but recast the moves you made in your intro. Think also about the ending of your conclusion, the final sentence. Paragraphs in general, and conclusions in particular, should never fizzle. End with what common parlance calls "zip." For instance, consider how the following examples emphasize a point at the start of the sentence (A), or delay or withhold meaning for comic (B) or dramatic effect (C). A. The edge of the grave makes a lively point of vantage. (John Updike, "Barney Looks Back," More Matter) B. Part of the difficulty these kind people experienced in rearing me was that I was generally unable, with my best efforts, to do things that other children seemed to manage without much thought, certainly without the terror that immobilized me at the prospect of failing in tasks where success was the norm, such as tying the shoelaces. (Frank Kermode, Not Entitled) C. The trouble with literary biographies, perhaps, is that they mainly testify to the long worldly corruption of a life, as documented deeds and days and disappointments pile up and cannot convey the unearthly human innocence that attends, in the perpetual present tense of living, the self that seems the real one. (John Updike, "The Man Within," More Matter) The ending of a sentence then, and the final sentence in particular, could do more than embrace the period. Consider the following sentences, which end paragraphs or conclusions in various essays in John Updike's Odd Jobs. Updike resorts to an appositive (noun followed by another noun explaining it in some way) in the first two examples, and a strong, evocative noun in the last. His death [Italo Calvino's] removes from the global literary scene its most urbane star, its most civilized voice. He [John Cheever] was of an ever-rarer breed, a celebrant. One Hundred Years of Solitude was a work of consummate ripeness. The author's sparse production in the eighteen years since its writing betrays the effort of fending off rot.