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Quote by Stephanie Hemphill

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Sisters of Glass

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Stephanie Hemphill

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“Viewed as a barometer of inner being, the face is seen to produce certain effects in both self and other. By one set of criteria or another, whether ugly or beautiful, the face is seen as both natural and cultivated - and these terms are polyvalent, signifying, respectively, degradation or purity, artifice or grace. To cultivate a beautiful visage is to cultivate sound morals, and thus to be dutiful - which is why Dorian Gray is such [a] powerfully contradictory character. And the face is also and always seen as a barometer of the characteristics of a people, not just of a person - of the lower or higher development of the race.”

BeautyFeminismMoralityGeographyFaceVisageGilded CageAnatomo PoliticalBiopoliticalImperlialism
Author:Elaine Stratford
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“Just then, the reel snapped off the projector and the screen went black. We stood under the chandelier for one last moment. It cast stars on the floor below us, and we were surrounded by so much velvet I felt like a diamond nestled in a jewel box. But the stars weren't real, and I wasn't a gem. In fact, it was only then that I realized that pretty much everything about the gilded life of Matilda Duplaine was make-believe.”

Movie TheaterBook TitleGilded Cage
Book:The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine
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“WILDE: Oh — Bosie! (He weeps.) I have to go back to him, you know. Robbie will be furious but it can't be helped. The betrayal of one's friends is a bagatelle in the stakes of love, but the betrayal of oneself is a lifelong regret. Bosie is what became of me. He is spoiled, vindictive, utterly selfish and not very talented, but these are merely the facts. The truth is he was Hyacinth when Apollo loved him, he is ivory and gold, from his red rose-leaf lips comes music that fills me with joy, he is the only one who understands me. 'Even as a teething child throbs with ferment, so does the soul of him who gazes upon the boy's beauty; he can neither sleep at night nor keep still by day,' and a lot more besides, but before Plato could describe love, the loved one had to be invented. We would never love anybody if we could see past our invention. Bosie is my creation, my poem. In the mirror of invention, love discovered itself. Then we saw what we had made — the piece of ice in the fist you cannot hold or let go. (He weeps.)”

LoveWritingOscar WildeClassicsVictoriansBosie DouglasRobbie Ross
Book:The Invention of Love
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