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#the lifted veil
quotation--marks · 7 months
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I read Plutarch, and Shakespeare, and Don Quixote by the sly, and supplied myself in that way with wandering thoughts, while my tutor was assuring me that ‘an improved man, as distinguished from an ignorant one, was a man who knew the reason why water ran down-hill.’ I had no desire to be this improved man; I was glad of the running water; I could watch it and listen to it hurling among the pebbles, and bathing the bright green water-plants, by the hot together. I did not want to know WHY it ran; I had perfect confidence that there were good reasons for what was so very beautiful.
George Eliot, The Lifted Veil
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sirenatrixx · 5 months
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atundratoadstool · 2 years
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re: this post, would LOVE to hear your thoughts on middlemarch! i’m reading it with my book club while writing a 10-page final paper on trauma in dracula.
So it has been well over a year since I was really doing solid academic work on Middlemarch, so it--like the state of very recent Dracula scholarship--is something I'd admittedly more rusty at discussing it than I would care to admit. However, if you're curious about the big cool things that get me (and the Victorianist on my committee) excited about Middlemarch, here's the two major points of my chapter that I think are cool to know:
I am firmly of the belief that Tertius Lydgate should be read as a realist re-imagining of the protagonist of George Eliot's novella "The Lifted Veil" "which is a gothic tale about a depressive telepath, his terrible wife, and an inexplicable Victor Frankenstein knock off. I think that what is so tremendously tragic about him is that he--like Latimer--is gifted with tremendous powers of vision but cannot bring them into useful focus. Latimer and Lydgate can perceive interiors (be they psychic or anatomical) but do not act as men who have any real feel for other human beings' interiority, which is why Lydgate, for all his knowledge of organic tissue, cannot navigate the social organism of Middlemarch itself.
Patterns of natural collection and scientific paradigms in Middlemarch are important. George Eliot was a woman obsessed with natural collecting who loved each and every squishy marine worm she could coax into a bucket. Really. You should read her partner's accounts of their holidays collecting marine worms if you want to be bowled over by the most adorable irl couple of the nineteenth century. I believe that Lydgate's myopia as an anatomist is contrasted by Farebrother's perceptiveness as a naturalist, and I believe also that the moment where they meet and exchange specimens is prophetic. I don't know where you are in the novel, so I'll avoid major spoilers, but the thing I want everybody everywhere to know is that sea mice are marine worms of the genus aphrodita, which is name they got for their ostensibly yonic appearance and that marine worm girl George Eliot would absolutely know about. When Lydgate trades his sea mice to Farebrother for an anecephalic fetus he is trading a symbol of amatory love for a dead and incomplete child.
Hope that's enough Middlemarch thoughts to be of some interest! If nothing else, please appreciate knowing about George Eliot's passion for both telepathy and worms if you didn't know about it before.
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thistelltaleheart · 2 years
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We're reading The Lifted Veil by George Eliot for my supernatural class and Latimer is the most dramatic Victorian Era protagonist ever. You thought Frankenstein was bad? Oh no. This guy. I can't with him. The levels of melodrama coming off this sickly poet man in waves are palpable. I literally cannot stop laughing.
He's not the tortured genius type, he actually says that he "never was gifted in the ways of science" etc, or whatever. But dear lord he does the "no one understands my mind and I shall be eternally tortured" thing so well. "I see the future and I can see that I shall be doomed to an eternity of torture that is marriage to the woman I am hopelessly pining for. It shall be wretched and horrible and yet still I love and pine for her even though she is engaged to my horrible older brother who will never know how horrible and wretched I am or understand the depths of my suffering." Like, calm down buddy. Go drink some chamomile tea with Victor and Hamlet, please. You all need therapy. I can't with these sickly goth twink protagonists. I love them and their dramatic monologuing so much.
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onlyhurtforaminute · 11 days
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youtube
THE LIFTED VEIL-PARADISE OF PARASITES
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onlycosmere · 18 days
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The Stormlight Archive by Josh Corpuz
Shallan, Dalinar, Kaladin, Jasnah, Szeth
Pattern, Moash, Adolin, Syl, Rock, Gaz
Hoid, Lopen, Eshonai, Navani, Zahel
Sadeas, Lift, Veil, Teft, Rlain
Ben McSweeney: Pretty excellent, I like a lot of these!
The artist is from the Phillipines, and they do superb animation work as well. I think they're tied up in videogames, working on JRPGs.
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neotaissong · 3 months
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Via @motaz_azaiza
24 January 2024
"Should I be happy?" Motaz's IG story after leaving Gaza
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princington · 1 year
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inspired by this post by @winterlorn
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howlsnteeth · 1 year
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no kin/id/etc tags or associations ty
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finlaena · 9 days
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That bitter illusion of hope
(No, I'm not filtering this because you can't see anything and it's intended to be artistic. If Tumblr whacks me for it, so be it.)
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quotation--marks · 5 months
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I know how I looked at that moment, for I saw myself in Bertha’s thought as she lifted her cutting grey eyes, and looked at me: a miserable ghost-seer, surrounded by phantoms in the noon-day, trembling under a breeze when the leaves were still, without appetite for the common objects of human desire, but pining after the moonbeams.
George Eliot, The Lifted Veil
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lunejump · 1 month
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more togachako wedding <3
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this was the inspo for ochako's suit so you know what the vision is
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maybemoss · 1 month
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thinking about d-class in the scp foundation. you’re doomed from the beginning. no amount of intellect or skill will help you in the face of world-ending horrors, and the people around you who do know what they’re doing won’t care to save you unless it benefits them. you’re treated as expendable, even less of a person than a canary in the coal mine. and because of what? because you did something—something unforgivable, presumably. whether or not you had a good reason, if you regretted it or if you’d do it all over again if you got the chance, the foundation doesn’t care, it offered you a second chance all the same. you were going to die anyways, you thought, might as well take a chance. you should have known there were fates worse than death.
since taking that deal, you’ve had your name stolen from you. probably not in the anomalous sense unless you’re one of the unlucky ones, but they’ve replaced it with a serial number that’s long, unwieldy, and dehumanizing. it’s easier for them to condemn you to horrors beyond imagination if they never have to know your name, if they never have to acknowledge that you are (were?) a human being with thoughts and feelings. oftentimes the things these people do in the name of the “greater good” are even worse than whatever you did to get in this situation in the first place, but that never stops them from calling themselves humanity’s saviors while using you as a lab rat. they will stop at nothing to secure, contain, protect, and you will be caught in the crossfire.
will they even let you out if you somehow survive? how long have you really been here?
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onlyhurtforaminute · 11 days
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omgkayplays · 3 months
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What kind of love are you?
I was tagged by @mattodore <3
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Love as a Performance
Your love is a masquerade, a dance, a work of art. You love with a veil across your face, unable to allow anyone to see the real you. Can that be considered love, you wonder? As a performer, you have all your lines prepared, and you know exactly what to say and when to say it. You’re charismatic and bold, seductive and hypnotic. Your love is a snake’s melody, the siren song of the sea. Your love is enchanting. Your love is melodic. Your love is afraid and fearful and longing. You ache to tear the veil off, you ache to cast poetry aside for the sake of something real and gritty. You’re terrified of the very thought. Being loved by you is to be loved by an artist; it is to be a muse. It reflects others beautifully, but never, ever yourself. Not really. Not truly.
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Love as a Choice
You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.
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columboscreens · 1 year
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