tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6130830332820181818.post5844425355262903010..comments2024-03-29T03:56:08.315-04:00Comments on johnshaplin: The Wedding by Gustave Flaubertjohnshaplinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17618981988062495637noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6130830332820181818.post-21941060433945210622021-11-30T09:28:06.149-05:002021-11-30T09:28:06.149-05:00Shyla Marie Photography is amazing and Her work is...Shyla Marie Photography is amazing and Her work is phenomenal! I definitely recommend her for every occasion especially WEDDINGS. She's very understanding of what the client is looking for and thorough! Go with <a href="https://shylamariephotography.com//" rel="nofollow">Headshot Photography</a> !!!!!!! Brenda Hillhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14900329272503802722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6130830332820181818.post-41118203573348145352013-01-27T20:16:16.511-05:002013-01-27T20:16:16.511-05:00He (Rodolphe) had heard all these things so many t...He (Rodolphe) had heard all these things so many times that they no longer held any interest for him. Emma resembled all his old mistresses, and the charm of novelty, falling away little by little like articles of clothing, revealed in all its nakedness the eternal monotony of passion, which always assumes the same forms and speaks the same language. This man, who was so experienced in love, could not distinguish the dissimilarity in the emotions behind the similarity of expressions. He couldn’t really accept Emma’s lack of guile, having heard similar sentences from the mouths of venal and immoral women. One should be able to tone down, he thought, those exaggerated speeches that mask lack of feeling – as if the fullness of the soul did not sometimes overflow into the emptiest of metaphors. No one can express the exact measure of his needs, or conceptions, or sorrows. The human language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out a tune for a dancing bear, when we hope with our music to move the stars.<br /><br />But with that superior critical ability of those who hold themselves back from any and all involvements, Rodolphe found other pleasures to exploit in this love. He discarded the last shreds of modesty and treated her without consideration, making her into something compliant and corrupt. It was an idiotic, one-sided attachment, filled with admiration for him, and sensual satisfaction for herself. She was in a blissful state of numbness. Her soul sank deeper into this inebriation and was drowned in it, shriveled up like the Duke of Clarence in his butt of malmsey.<br /><br />Madame Bovary’s manner changed as a result of her constant indulgence in love. Her gaze became bolder, her talk freer. She even had the audacity to parade with Monsieur Rodolphe, a cigarette in her mouth, “as if to defy everyone.” Finally, those who were still in doubt doubted no more when she was seen one day, stepping down from the Hirondelle, wearing a masculine-styled, tight-fitting waistcoat. .<br /><br /><br />johnshaplinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17618981988062495637noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6130830332820181818.post-74008829660603463572013-01-27T20:14:17.911-05:002013-01-27T20:14:17.911-05:00“Here I point out two things, gentlemen: a paintin...“Here I point out two things, gentlemen: a painting which is admirable with respect to talent, but a painting which is abominable from the point of view of morality. Yes, Monsieur Flaubert knows how to beautify his paintings with all the resources of art, but without the circumspection of art. With him there is no reticence, no veil; he shows nature in all its nudity, in all its coarseness! Here is another passage:<br /><br />‘They knew each other too well to feel those mutual revelations of possession that multiply its joys a hundredfold. She was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma was finding in adultery all the banalities of marriage.’<br /><br />Banalities of marriage, poetry of adultery! Sometimes it is the defilement of marriage, sometimes it is the banalities, but it is always the poetry of adultery. You see, gentlemen, the situations Monsieur likes to portray, and unhappily he portrays them all too well.”- Speech for the Prosecution<br />johnshaplinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17618981988062495637noreply@blogger.com