Hellow guys, Welcome to my website, and you are watching Mirror by Sylvia Plath (read by Tom O'Bedlam). and this vIdeo is uploaded by SpokenVerse at 2013-07-21T05:23:48-07:00. We are pramote this video only for entertainment and educational perpose only. So, I hop you like our website.
| Name | Mirror by Sylvia Plath (read by Tom O'Bedlam) |
| Video Uploader | Video From SpokenVerse |
| Upload Date | This Video Uploaded At 21-07-2013 08:23:48 |
| Video Discription | Lines Written on a Looking Glass -- I change - and so do women too: But I reflect - THAT women never do. If you feel incensed by this misogynical apophthegm - or whatever you want to call it - let me tell you I didn't write it, nor do I endorse it. I'm a domesticated creature: I wouldn't push my luck so far. It comes from those bygone days before men had been thoroughly whipped in the Sex War and still had a little spunk left in them. It was in a collection "The London Joke-book: Or New Bon-mot Miscellany" of 1835. So, if you want to burst a blood vessel, you can read a bit more here: http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=kBFAAAAAYAAJ (and it's available from Amazon too. Political Incorrectness never goes out of date) None of us knows how other people see us. We're more limited by how we think they see us.. The image we project matters far more. Fred Astaire wasn't handsome: Lisa Minelli wasn't beautiful. A plain woman who thinks she's beautiful will do far better than a beauty who thinks only about her flaws. When we're young we think that what we see in the mirror is all that we are. As we get older, we pay less and less regard to what we see. In the end, we hardly recognise ourselves. Women have destroyed all photos of themselves in the family album - because none of them looked the way they thought they looked. We see things the way we are - not the way they are. Beauty, like intelligence and wealth, isn't a shortcut to satisfaction and happiness for the "lucky" few that have it. These qualities are more like liabilities than assets. Consider what happens to those that are gifted: the number-one problem is living up to expectations - and the castigation when you don't. Admiration always has a "but" clause attached, even if it is unstated. "May she be granted beauty and yet not Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught, Or hers before a looking-glass, for such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness and maybe The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend." ... A Prayer for My Daughter by W B Yeats I used some of these images to illustrate the poem: Woman looking at her reflection by Frederic Dorr Steele, 1873-1944 Girl in the Mirror by Leigh Peter Harrison who has an interesting blog about narcissism http://leighpeterharrison.blog.com/ Facing your reflection by Chad Estes - also interesting: http://www.chadestes.com/2013/01/facing-your-reflection/ http://www.heelsandhydraulics.co.uk/?tag=painting-an-rv http://www.degreeart.com/painting/charlotte-mclaughlin/reflection-mirror-3 "Mirror Reflections" PRINT of Painting by Lore from http://www.etsy.com/ Mirror's Reflection by Annie Greene http://www.sheppard-arts.com/_img/portfolio-artwork/in-the-mirror.jpg http://welcome-to-dbs-world.blogspot.co.uk/2010_08_01_archive.html http://fineartamerica.com/featured/reflections-in-the-mirror-robert-e-gebler.html http://www.visualphotos.com/image/2x4635307/young_woman_looking_at_reflection_in_mirror http://www.worth1000.com/entries/458402/mirror-mirror Before a mirror, Thomas Wilmer Dewing, 1851-1938 Diane Arbus, Self-Portrait in Mirror, 1945 Vanitas Allegory by Bernardo Strozzi 1581-1644 I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful- The eye of the little god, four cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. |
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