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Movie's trailer.

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Pivano describes the Beat Generation.

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Jack Kerouac, Interview (doc, subtitled in italian)

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The Hours (2002) Official Trailer # 1 - Nicole Kidman HD

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The Truman Show - Prigioniero in un falso mondo [ITA]

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THE SCARLET LETTER(comment of the movie).

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THE SCARLET LETTER(comment of the movie).

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“The scarlet letter” is a movie directed by Ronald Joffè ,based on the novel by Hawthorne. The main character is a woman,Hester prynne,becomes faithless with a church man. The woman becomes pregnant but, not wanting to reveal the name of her father, she is forced to go around the city with a red A sewn on the dress.Demi Moore was good to balance sensuality and spirituality,with determination and affection. The movie refers to contemporary "politically correct" ideas and feelings by changing the seventeenth-century protagonist into a female heroine of independence, courage and free thought, concludes with a happy ending in which the woman, the priest and their child depart together towards the future to build a true New World.
Joffé has once again focused on the epic oratory lined up against intolerance, fanaticism, bigotry, imperialism. Everything is politically correct, but also expressively all inflated, dilated, decorated from the outside, turned into empty spectacular effects.

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The Scarlet Letter  | Characters | Nathaniel Hawthorne

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-he was born in New England into an old family that he had played a major part in the early hisotry of the colonies.
-in "The Scarlet Letter"(1850) he reflects the habits and ethics of the New England Puritans.
-he believed in the consequences oof past errors on the lives of future generations and whole communities.

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Take up the White Man's burden —
Send forth the best ye breed —
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need;
To wait in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild —
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half-child.

Take up the White Man's burden —
In patience to abide,
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain
To seek another's profit,
And work another's gain.

Take up the White Man's burden —
The savage wars of peace —
Fill full the mouth of Famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hopes to nought.

Take up the White Man's burden —
No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper —
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go make them with your living,
And mark them with your dead.

Take up the White Man's burden —
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard —
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) toward the light: —
"Why brought he us from bondage,
Our loved Egyptian night?"

Take up the White Man's burden —
Ye dare not stoop to less —
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloak your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your gods and you.

Take up the White Man's burden —
Have done with childish days —
The lightly profferred laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.

Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!

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Rudyard Kipling | LIfe of Journalist | The Greats | Episode 62

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I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

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O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and darling
But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread
Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

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Dead Poets Society | Oh Captain, My Captain

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WALT WHITMAN:AN AMERICAN BARD(father of american poetry)

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WALT WHITMAN:AN AMERICAN BARD(father of american poetry)

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-Born in New York by a reaching class family;
-He received a little formal education;
-At the age o 11 he started to work as an office boy;
-journalism career-->radical democratic;
-He read HOMER,DANTE,SHAKESPEARE,
HEGEL,GOETHE;
-In 1805 he published the first edition of "Leaves of grass"(12 poms)about his development as a poet and his experience of the American land-->many journeys;
-He had a eputation for obscenity and hosexuality,after the thid version of his poems and after the 4th version he entroduced poems of civil war(death of Lincoln);
-died in 1892,appreciated by aestethic movement.

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Winston S Churchill: We Shall Fight on the Beaches

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Early in 1895, while facing charges of indecency and wondering if he should abscond to France, Oscar Wilde had no idea what a two-year prison sentence would mean for him. Wilde's misfortune was to serve his sentence just before prison conditions were officially changed by the 1898 Prison Act.

In total isolation, first in Pentonville and Wandsworth, and then in Reading gaol, to which he was moved in November 1895, Wilde slept on a plank bed with no mattress. Allowed one hour's exercise a day, he walked in single file in the yard with other prisoners but he was not allowed to communicate with them. He could not sleep, he was permanently hungry and he suffered from dysentery. For the first month, Wilde was tied to a treadmill six hours a day, making an ascent, as it were, of 6,000 feet each day, with five minutes' rest after every 20 minutes. Towards the end of his sentence, the governor of the jail, Major Nelson, remarked to Wilde's friend Robert Ross: "He looks well. But like all men unused to manual labour who receive a sentence of this kind, he will be dead within two years." Wilde was later to praise Nelson, who had arrived at Reading in July 1896, as "the most Christlike man I ever met". Nelson was more liberal than his predecessor and was ready to relax the rules.

In January 1897, when Wilde still had more than four months still to serve, he and Nelson came up with an ingenious idea. While nothing in the prison regulations allowed prisoners to write plays or novels or essays, inmates had permission to write letters. Under the previous regime, Wilde had written to solicitors and the Home Office, or in limited quantities to friends, but his letters were inspected and the writing materials removed as he finished. But the regulations did not specify how long a letter should be. And if a letter were not finished, then the prisoner, it was supposed, could be allowed take it with him when he left the prison.

Thus Wilde, alone in his cell, was given pen and ink every day. What he wrote was removed each evening and then, it seems, handed back to him in the morning, or parts were given back to him to revise. Since "De Profundis" was in the form of a long letter, it would be his property when he was free. It took him three months, with much revision.

Wilde addressed his letter to Lord Alfred Douglas. On his release, he handed the manuscript to Ross, who had two typed copies made, one of which he sent to Douglas. In 1905 Ross published extracts from the text, and a fuller version in 1908. The complete version, however, was not published until 1949.

By the time he wrote "De Profundis", Wilde's love for Douglas had turned into a sort of bitterness, and the tone of his long letter manages to capture that bitterness as well as the extraordinary attachment he felt for Douglas. "De Profundis", it should be said, is neither fair minded nor consistent; it is, at times, bloated in its comparisons and its rhetoric. (Wilde, for example, compares himself to Christ.) But there is also a beautiful, calm eloquence, and a sense of urgency, of things being said because there might not be time or opportunity to say them in the future.

Wilde's old skill at paradox and phrase making was not there now merely to amuse his audience or mock his betters, but rather to kill his own pain and grief and attempt to communicate passionately and fiercely with his lover. He wrote not as art now, but as desperately serious matter.

"The only beautiful things," his character Vivian had told us in "The Decay of Lying", which Wilde wrote in 1890, "are the things that do not concern us." Seven years later, in his cry from the depths, he wrote of what most deeply concerned him: "If there be one single passage that brings tears to the eyes, weep as we weep in prison when the day no less than the night is set apart for tears." And then, in what is perhaps the most shocking sentence in the whole letter, he wrote: "The supreme vice is shallowness." Once upon a time it would have been, for him, the supreme virtue.

Wilde accused Douglas of distracting him from his art, of spending his money, of degrading him ethically, of constant scene-making, of deliberately and then thoughtlessly mistreating him. He went over Douglas's bad behaviour in matters large and petty, often citing dates and places and details. The tone was fluent and sweeping, full of carefully controlled cadence and measured elegance. But the difference between this tone and Wilde's carefully nurtured flippancy was astonishing. It was like a tenor becoming a baritone, with a new range and depth and a new attention to feeling, but the old skills and tricks with pitch and paradox still in place, despite his circumstances, or perhaps because of them.

The letter cannot be read for its accurate account of their relationship, nor taken at its word. While some of the accusations are true, others are petty and foolish. But that is not the point. "De Profundis" has neither the informality of a personal letter nor the distilled sound of a piece of imaginative writing. Its seductive, hurt and passionate tone places it in a category of its own. In all its urgency and ambiguous eloquence, it remains one of the greatest and most complex love letters ever written.

It is fascinating to witness the change that came over Wilde's imaginative procedures as he wrote. In the dim light of the prison cell and with the memory of his suffering fresh, it was as though he sought a new sort of tension between breathlessness and breath-control. He wrote long and highly wrought sentences, loving lists of adjectives and clever, Latinate diction and elaborate punctuation. To be followed by a pure, plain statement, full of the clipped sharp tone of the Anglo-Saxon.

"Of course I should have got rid of you," he wrote. The reader will want to know why he did not, and part of the power of the text comes from our knowledge that, once Wilde was released, despite all his bitter feeling, he and Douglas attempted to live together again and resume their relationship, to the horror of both Douglas's family and Wilde's wife.

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Colm Tóibín in the cell of Reading prison where De Profundis was written.

Until three years ago, Reading gaol, where Wilde served most of his sentence, was used as a place of incarceration for young offenders. The cells still have bunk beds, a small table and two seats riveted into the wall, and then, closer to the small window, a flush toilet hidden from view. The four corridors that make up each floor radiate from a central vantage point. Thus it is possible for one single member of staff to note any movement in the four corridors.

While the creepy cell interiors bear all the hallmarks of recent use, the corridors and the general atmosphere in the prison, which was built in 1844, make it easy to imagine what it might have been like for Wilde in 1895.

The place where floggings happened, for example, which Wilde evoked with such passionate shock in his letters to the Daily Chronicle on his release, is close to the yard where the prisoners could exercise, close enough for the victim's howls to be heard, as Wilde heard them in 1897. The cells that were used to house those condemned to death, evoked by Wilde in The Ballad of Reading Gaol, can still be visited. They are still part of the essential fabric of the place.

Wilde was not prepared for prison, and did not, in his heyday, dream that he would spend two years in jail. In "The Decay of Lying", he had mocked the writer Charles Reade for "a foolish attempt to be modern, to draw public opinion to the state of our convict prisons". In 1882, during a tour of America, when he visited a penitentiary in Nebraska, he wrote about the prisoners: "They were all mean looking, which consoled me, for I should hate to see a criminal with a noble face."

When he found that a prisoner due to be hanged in Nebraska was reading a novel by Charlotte M Yonge called The Heir of Redclyffe, Wilde remarked: "My heart was turned by the eyes of the doomed man, but if he reads The Heir of Redclyffe it's perhaps as well to let the law take its course." But when he found a volume by Dante in another cell, he wrote: "Strange and beautiful it seemed to me that the sorrow of a single Florentine in exile should, hundreds of years afterwards, lighten the sorrow of some common prisoner in a modern gaol."

The cell where Wilde wrote "De Profundis" is filled with a sense of those who recently suffered there, but the view of the sky from the small window and the heaviness of the door as it closes behind you bring back how one of the great spirits of his age was broken in body and soul in this space, and then restored to some dark approximation of life by being given pen and paper so that he too could lighten his sorrow, or make it matter more, by producing something as strange and beautiful as "De Profundis".

* An exhibition, Inside - Artists and Writers in Reading Prison, is at the prison from 4 September to 30 October. Colm Tóibín will read "De Profundis" in its entirety on 16 October. artangel.org.uk/inside.
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Oscar Wilde's De Profundis - one of the greatest love letters ever written

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Early in 1895, while facing charges of indecency and wondering if he should abscond to France, Oscar Wilde had no idea what a two-year prison sentence would mean for him. Wilde's misfortune was to serve his sentence just before prison conditions were officially changed by the 1898 Prison Act.

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The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless

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The 2009's adaptation of the novel "The picture of Dorian Gray" is directed by Oliver Parker,who was able to show us perfectly the Victorian age:it actually embody different arguments about the status of material objects themeselves.The director was good at showing the author's critique of Victorian society through the type characters,settings...
In my opinion,the story unfortunatly is over-emphasized,especially in the end when the portrait looks like horrible and disgusting because of the sins committed by Dorian during his life.So,there are a lot of gothic elements which can make the movie too much "fantastic",consequently the realist element vaniches.

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Top 10 Notes: The Picture of Dorian Gray

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Cult Book - La ballata del carcere di Reading (Oscar Wilde)

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“Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”

― Oscar Wilde

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Oscar Wilde begins his prison meditation, De Profundis, with an aphorism, not the light and witty kind for which his plays are famous, but one which resonates with bleak experience: "Suffering is one very long moment." Having reached the turning point in his despair, the disgraced writer goes on to set out his plan for transforming that experience into a different kind of art and a new kind of life, borrowing Dante's title La Vita Nuova for his own projected resurrection. The Ballad of Reading Gaol, this week's choice, is the fulfilment of that plan.

Wilde wrote the poem in 1898. He was now free, but a broken man, and a broke one. Besides two letters, he produced nothing else of literary significance before his death. It was first published simply under his prisoner identification number, C.3-3.

The poem is dedicated to the memory of the "sometime" Royal Horse Guards trooper, Charles Thomas Wooldridge, and the central incident is Wooldridge's execution for the murder of his wife. Around this narrative core, whose genre might be described as gothic realism, Wilde builds a meditation on the paradoxes of morality. The Ballad is an indictment of the death penalty and the whole penal system, but it is much more than a protest poem. It is a revelation, and its structure is part of that revelation.

Everyone can quote the refrain: "For each man kills the thing he loves." Poetically, it's unquestionably powerful, and, intellectually, it's powerfully questionable. What does Wilde mean? Perhaps he is saying that love itself corrupts or alters its object. That would certainly seem to have been true of his relationship with "Bosie", Lord Alfred Douglas, seemingly a spoiled brat further spoiled by Wilde's adulation. Judas, of course, is on his mind: the poem refers to the kiss of Caiaphas, the latter being the priest who participated in Christ's betrayal.

Wilde loved paradox, and he found some essential symbol of it in the man who murdered his wife. Perhaps he found another in the hypocrisy of the prison system itself, destroying the souls and bodies of those it would reform. The ballad form, as he adapts it, encases paradox and story in a tight, encircling ring. It is both a Dante-esque circle of hell and the deadly routine of prison life. It represents the whole cycle of crime and punishment. It is inescapable, like the "iron gin" mentioned in line 173, a symbol of confinement and possibly also an actual machine.

In the plodding iambic tetrameter and the extensive use of refrain and parallelism, we can feel at a physical level the grinding relentlessness of prison work. The tasks Victorian prisoners were set were part of their punishment. They would pedal a treadmill with their feet, for example, and though some prison treadmills were geared to grind corn or raise water, others had no use but to enslave. Then there was the nasty business of oakum picking, a task of unravelling the twine of old tarred ropes salvaged from ships. Wilde had worked at this until his fingers bled.

In De Profundis he depicts Christ as a poet, with "an intense and flame-like imagination", and describes Christian morality as "all sympathy". The sincerity of Wilde's drama of self-regeneration has sometimes been questioned and there is no doubt a certain posturing: if Christ is poet-like, this suffering poet, he seems to hint, is Christ-like. But the central charge of the Ballad is sympathy, sympathy with the condemned man and his fellow inmates. One tiny revision tells us a lot. The last two lines of stanza 41 originally read: "And I trembled as I groped my way/ Into my numbered tomb." In the second version, the shift from first to third person indicates that effort of sympathy.

Sympathy enables Wilde to remember vivid details and evoke collective feelings. The poem's hellish truthfulness raises it beyond its occasional rhetorical flaws, its purple passages. Suffering is not guaranteed to produce great art, or great humanity. However, there is no doubt that Wilde, the self-dubbed "lord of language", turns his awful humiliation to triumph in the Ballad, and attains a new poetic and moral stature.

There's only room for a short extract, but you can read the whole poem here:

With slouch and swing around the ring
We trod the Fools' Parade!
We did not care: we knew we were
The Devils' Own Brigade:
And shaven head and feet of lead
Make a merry masquerade.

We tore the tarry rope to shreds
With blunt and bleeding nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
And clattered with the pails.

We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones,
We turned the dusty drill:
We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns,
And sweated on the mill:
But in the heart of every man
Terror was lying still.

So still it lay that every day
Crawled like a weed-clogged wave:
And we forgot the bitter lot
That waits for fool and knave,
Till once, as we tramped in from work,
We passed an open grave.

With yawning mouth the horrid hole
Gaped for a living thing;
The very mud cried out for blood
To the thirsty asphalt ring:
And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair
Some prisoner had to swing.

Right in we went, with soul intent
On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
Went shuffling through the gloom:
And each man trembled as he crept
Into his numbered tomb.
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Poem of the week: The Ballad of Reading Gaol

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Oscar Wilde begins his prison meditation, De Profundis, with an aphorism, not the light and witty kind for which his plays are famous, but one which resonates with bleak experience: "Suffering is one very long moment."

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Wilde (1997) - Stephen Fry as Oscar Wilde - Trial - The love that dare not speak its name

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"TO LIVE IS THE RAREST THING IN THE WORLD MOST PEOPLE EXIST,THAT IS ALL."
Life is a great journey and it gets intersting only by the way we take up it. If we simply "survive" through a routine life,we will soon rest like unused iron and that is equivalent living as you are dead.So,we should make the best use of everyday and prove ourselves while we live. We have no time to waste in futile activities:we often don't perceive the passing of time because we are stuck in a routine, so we don't realize that we have to pick every moment of our life,negative or positive.

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The story is allegorical to the social class system of Victorian England—the wealth of the upper classes versus the impoverishment of the poor.The statue of the prince has its jewels delivered to the poor via the swallow (now, on top of the hill, the prince can see the poverty that had previously been shielded from him). Eventually the statue loses all its material wealth; he is richer inside for helping the needy, but no longer outside, and the swallow dies. The people remove the prince statue, now that he is plain, and discuss the next statue that will replace him, because material wealth is most important to them.

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THE HAPPY PRINCE by Oscar Wilde read by Stephen Fry FULL UNABRIDGED

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This novella was publiched on 19 December 1843:it is the storyof a nasty and bitter old miser named Ebenezer Scrooge who hates Christmas and the acts of generousity that usually go with it, but he is transformed into a gentle and generous man thanks to the meeting with several ghosts during the night:ghost of the Past,the Present and the Future.

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Learn English - A Christmas Carol - by Charles Dickens - English story at Christmas

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In this passage,Dickens critics his society about factory system:"It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys,out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves for ever and ever";he throw a critic also about religion,utilitarsim,everything must have been useful for the society,school as well.

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This is a very commovent and emotional scene :(

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Oliver asks for more (from Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens).

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Oliver asks for more (from Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens).

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In the following passage, Oliver is now living in the workhouse,an orrible place where children are not  treated.  The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with a copper at  one end: out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and  assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel at mealtimes.  The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with their spoons till  they shone again; so,here we can see Oliver who asks for more food,not just for him,but also for his companions:he rose from the table and advanced to the master,but they failed.

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"BRIGHT STAR,WOULD WOULD I WERE STEDFAST AS THOU ART"       -by John Keats

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"BRIGHT STAR,WOULD WOULD I WERE STEDFAST AS THOU ART"       -by John Keats

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"Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art" by John Keats

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Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-

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A short video to introduce this era.

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"WHY DID YOU BETRAY YOUR OWN HERT,CATHY?"

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"WHY DID YOU BETRAY YOUR OWN HERT,CATHY?"

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Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living,
You said i killed you, haunt me then!
Be with me always, take any form, drive me mad!
Only do not leave me in this abyss where i cannot find you!

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Wuthering Heights(1992)-Why did you betray your own heart,Cathy?

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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE,CHAPTER XI OF VOLUME I

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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE,CHAPTER XI OF VOLUME I

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"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh."
"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly," replied Elizabeth—"there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can.—But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley;—"and pray what is the result?"
"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."
"No"—said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for.—It is I believe too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful.—My good opinion once lost is lost for ever."

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Brainstorm online with Bubbl.us. Easily create colorful mind maps to print or share with others. Almost no learning curve. Millions of people are using Bubbl.us worldwide to generate ideas, map out processes and create presentations.

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The map should be about Frankenstein not the  author so the right part is not necessary

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FRANKENSTEIN'S TRAILER My favorite adaptation

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FRANKENSTEIN'S TRAILER My favorite adaptation

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Trailer that caught my attention the most,was this one,for two main reasons:firstly,because there is one of my favorite actors,James McAvoy,who has interpreted his part(Victor Frankestein) in the best way.Moreover,I loved all of the special effect of scenography,wich gave a more modern and contemporary character to the story.

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Victor Frankenstein | Official Trailer [HD] | 20th Century FOX

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This is my favorite scene of the movie "Frankenstein"(1994),based on the novel of Mary Shelley. Victor and Elizabeth fell in love and got married, but the monster, who had sworn revenge on his creator,killed her. Then,she has been brought back to life by Victor,but his appereance changed a lot: she became "ugly".
Now,this scene show Elizabeth,who have to take a choice: in one hand, there is the monster,who had a lot of scars,like her,so Elizabeth felt understood by him and she didn't feel "alone". In the other hand ,there is Victor,who is accused by Elizabeth for the new look. So, saying that she didn't want to live like that,she committed a suicide,getting into the flames. The reason why I chose this scene is mainly for the desperate gesture made by Elizabeth,who didn't know what she really wanted,due to her rebirth. This atmosphere of voltage and anxiety is made even more evident by the dark environment and the skill of the actors in making the scene even more real,with the lenguage of the body, for example the moment in which Elizabeth touched her face or when she turned to Victor with a look of despair and accusan. I was really struck by it.

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Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994) - Bride Elizabeth

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Everything you need to know to read Frankenstein 

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Everything you need to know to read Frankenstein 

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Everything you need to know to read "Frankenstein" - Iseult Gillespie

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In 1815, Lord Byron proposed a challenge to a few literary guests he had gathered in his house on Lake Geneva: Who could write the most chilling ghost story? This question sparked an idea in eighteen-year-old Mary Shelley who, over the next few months, crafted the story of "Frankenstein."

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Mary Shelley was born in 1797 by the philosopher William Godwin and the pioneer feminist Mary Wollstonecraft. In 1814 she met the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley with whom fell in love and ran off to the Europe.Mary’s first and best work was Frankenstein,published anonymously in 1818.She wrote five more novels, like The Last Man,Mathilda,Valperga,etc.

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This is my favourite scene of Romeo and Juliet,where there is a famous quotation from Juliet:"WHAT'S IN A NAME? THAT WICH WE CALL ROSE BY AN ANOTHER WORD WOULD SMELL AS A SWEET". This sentence,told to romeo by Juliet when declare her love for him,is very romantic because the girl said that love is most important than everything:it's a demostration that a name(related to the two families)or any other other thing can't stop love,friendly,respect,and every assets.

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Literature for me is the best way to know the deep thought and the different point of view of past writers through their poems,which we use to compare our way of seeing things with that of the time. For me we study literature because it help us to create a critical thinking and especially to have our way to see and an approach to reality. From this course I expect to enrich my culture baggage,also to improve my english pronunciation,but I hope strongly to improve my exposure.