#the hyacinth girl

[julianpeterscomics]

"The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot, page 9

Every week on this site, I will be publishing a new page from my ongoing comics adaptation of “The Burial of the Dead,” the first section of T. S. Eliot’s epochal poem “The Waste Land” (Click on image to enlarge). Next week: Enter Madame Sosostris!

[accounting4taste42]

T.S. ELIOT AND PRESENCE

[TL:DR as I age and I am "Being" differently, more present, different poems of his speak to me differently yet still eloquently]

I was 15 when I discovered the poetry of Thomas Stearns Eliot within the *Norton Anthology of Poetry.* Nearly 50 years later, I'm reading him completely differently. Back then, I was smitten by "The Hollow Men," which can still be read as quintessential teenage angst:

===

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

===

It ends famously, in italics:

===

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

===

I discovered that I had to memorize Eliot before I could begin to make sense of his writings.

Next came "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I created a verb, "to Prufrock," which is to take the notion of the most modest of molehills and turn it into something so massive and overwhelming that to take that action would disturb the universe, which could not be dared, because it wouldn't have been worth it and because the would-be protagonist was so insignificant anyway that even if he attempted to do so it would have been completely misunderstood.

But then, glossing over "The Waste Land" until much later, I found "Burnt Norton," the first of his 4 Quartets. I endeavored to memorize the complete works of T.S. Eliot before I graduated high school, but after much of "Burnt Norton," my brain was full.

But it is "Burnt Norton" that still speaks to me today, as it is about presence, and time. It was written after a walk through the garden outside the mansion of the name with Emily Hale, "The Hyacinth Girl" of "The Waste Land," written for her, the woman he did not marry, but was nonetheless in love with whom he had created her to be 15 years earlier. We create the idea of who the other people are in our life. He was in love at the time, he would later write, not with Ms. Hale, but rather with the "ghost" of the Emily he knew decades earlier.

It begins:

===

Time present and time past

Are both perhaps present in time future

And time future contained in time past.

If all time is eternally present

All time is unredeemable.

What might have been is an abstraction

Remaining a perpetual possibility

Only in a world of speculation.

What might have been and what has been

Point to one end, which is always present.

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened

Into the rose-garden. My words echo

Thus, in your mind.

But to what purpose

Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves

I do not know.

===

A lament, and yet acknowledging how fruitless it is to mourn the road not taken or a future the will not be embraced.

He ends the first section of the poem:

===

Time past and time future

What might have been and what has been

Point to one end, which is always present.

===

*Always* present.

Later in the poem:

===

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,

Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,

There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.

And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.

===

He can't place it in time because it is always present -- the still point of the turning world, the in-between of past and future.

The second part ends:

===

Time past and time future

Allow but a little consciousness.

To be conscious is not to be in time

But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,

The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,

The moment in the draughty church at smokefall

Be remembered; involved with past and future.

Only through time time is conquered.

===

There is more to the poem. He brings in religion and damnation, evoking Dante. Some might read my perceptions of these poems and paraphrase a line from "Prufrock" and protest:

"That is not what he meant at all

That is not it at all."

But "The Hollow Men", as brilliant as it still is with its memorable haunting lines, nor longer speaks for me. For decades I identified with Mr. Prufrock, and while it is still an amazing poem which I likely will still be able to recite when I can't remember my own name, he no longer resembles me, nor I him.

But now, as I aspire towards Being, and Presence, I am conscious to not be in time, for all emotion is temporal, either as laments or nostalgia for the past, or as apprehension or excitement for the future. To be fully present is to be at the still point of the turning world....

[yeyinde]

I can't decide wether I want winter soldier price to have always had a thing for her that his brain just scrambled together with memories of his ex wife; or if she was just the first unlucky soul that didn't fit into the boxes of "team" or "enemy" in his mind so he just went "Welp, guess she must be "wife" then 🤷‍♀️"

i kinda love both!! but i really like the second one the best!! the idea of Price just latching onto the only "good" he can think of amid all the brainwashing and torture he went through, and since he casts himself into the role of the martyr and villain both, sacrificing himself and his morality and dirtying his hands for the "world" (at least, that's my interpretation of his subtle manipulation of Gaz during their car ride scene), i'd imagine that, to him, a random civilian is as close to good as he can get in this world. and since he probably has a very small social circle outside of Laswell, some peers in the military, and the 141, you'd be the best choice to fill that role in his head.

it's cataclysmic, of course. but i'm really into the whole "everyone loses and no one wins" thread that's slowly winding through it all. especially since that's kinda sad, actually. a man who might have had a very real interest/attraction in you that he would have never acted on (ever the martyr) only for it to be circumvented and exploited by three years of torture and brainwashing against his will until it's this malformed, grotesque beast devouring his entire idea of good until it's ruined by his own hands (blah blah dirty his hands to save the world throwback because i'm a one trick pony and an unclever hack, blah blah) is so tragic to me. i love it.

it's all very mushy and elastic in my head right now, though! so!!! still mulling it over.

[marypickfords]

Girl with Hyacinths (Hasse Ekman, 1950)

[memoldy]

✨💕GNAWING AT THE IRON BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE 💕✨

[hayerins]

Love, Sophie

written for sophie week

Three times Sophie is told she does not deserve love. One time Sophie is told she deserves all the love.

“What does bastard mean?” 5-year-old Sophie asked her governess with her bright, innocent eyes.

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons avoided the little girl’s eyes.

“Oh, is it a tough word that you do not know its meaning?” Sophie tilted her head in confusion. She thought her governess knew everything.

“You are not wrong to say that, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons nodded slowly. 

“Would an example help? I’ve heard the other maids say I am the Earl’s bastard child.” Sophie assumed she was helping Mrs Gibbons by providing the example. 

“About that…Sophie…” Mrs Gibbons weighed the possibilities of defining the term for Sophie.

“It’s another way to describe ward, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons decided against telling Sophie the truth. 

“So can I say that instead of ward? That I’m the Earl’s bastard child?” Sophie assumed the term was positive. 

“I would refrain from doing so, Sophie. We shall all stick to ward. I will inform the other maids as well. Are we clear on this?” Mrs Gibbons’ voice was firm. 

“Is this why the Earl does not love me? Like how the other papas love their children?” Sophie was an intelligent girl. Too intelligent for her own sake. 

“The Earl cannot love you like other papas do, Sophie. You are his ward. He loves you like a guardian would. Nothing more, nothing less.” Mrs Gibbons believed it was for Sophie’s good that she abandoned any hope early. The more Sophie desired fatherly love from the Earl, the more she would be in pain.

 “Nothing more, nothing less,” Sophie repeated Mrs Gibbon’s words, reminding herself she was nothing more than a ward, and nothing less. 

~

“You’re a bastard child.” Rosamund stared straight into Sophie’s eyes.

At least the Earl’s blood flows in me. Sophie wished self-control wasn’t one of her strengths. She had learned the meaning of the term as she aged. 

“You should be glad that we are providing for you. A bastard child.” Rosamund enunciated the last two words slowly as if the deliberate pause in between would soften the blow.

Sophie looked at Rosamund, weighing the various replies she could choose from. Something told her silence would be the best answer.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Rosamund expected a rebuttal from Sophie. She expected a defiant response so she could justify her anger.

“If me being at your beck and call all day is not enough, I don’t know what more will appease you.” Sophie was done with Rosamund and gave her an answer. An answer that seemed subservient enough on the surface.

“Nothing you do will appease me. Your very presence itself disgusts me, bastard child.” Rosamund spat. 

“I shall make myself scarce then.” Sophie turned to take her leave, too exhausted to entertain yet another of Rosamund’s childish, insecure tantrums. 

“Where do you think you’re going!” Rosamund lurched to grab Sophie by her hair.

“Let go, Rosamund. You’re hurting me.” Sophie tried to untangle Rosamund’s fingers from her hair.

“Get your dirty hands off me, you bastard child. How dare you touch me!” Rosamund shrieked as she gave Sophie a forceful slap. A slap so strong, it threw Sophie onto the ground with a resounding thud.

“This will teach you to know your place, bastard child.” Rosamund seemed pleased at the sight of her clear palm imprint on Sophie’s tear-filled cheeks. 

~

“How dare you!” Sophie watched as Araminta charged towards the young servant sitting next to her.

“My lady…” The servant stood up instinctively, unsure of Araminta’s next action. Which seconds later, was revealed to be a tight slap to the face.

“I dare you to repeat your words.” Araminta looked at the kneeling servant from the side of her eyes.

“Forgive me, my lady but I do not know what you are referring to.” The poor maid was shivering from shock and the numbing pain from Araminta’s slap. 

“You spoke about the Earl’s bastard child. I heard you!” Araminta raged, scaring the poor girl even further.

“We were far from that topic, Araminta.” Sophie stepped in front of the maid, blocking Araminta’s view.

“As if I would believe the words of a bastard child.” Araminta spat, transferring her anger onto Sophie. 

“That would be out of my control, Araminta.” Sophie blinked. She may or may not have regretted her response but it was too late. 

“Bastard.” Sophie willed herself to not flinch as she watched Araminta’s arm swing towards her cheeks. Go on, Araminta. Hit me.

Seconds after Sophie felt the sting of Araminta’s slap, her ears started ringing and her eyes began to tear. Sophie wasn't sure if it was from pain or anger. Perhaps both. 

“Repeat after me. I am a bastard child.” Araminta leaned in with an evil smirk on her face. Sophie’s silence only served to rile Araminta further. With a glint in her eyes, Araminta yanked on the hair of the young maid, who was watching everything on the side. Looking at Sophie briefly, Araminta laid hands on the maid.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Sophie yelled. There was no need for manners in this situation. Araminta didn’t deserve any either. 

“Say it.” Araminta threatened as she tightened the grip on the young maid’s hair. Sophie looked at the quivering girl, guilty for implicating her. Seeing Sophie’s ‘defiance’, Araminta delivered another slap to the maid’s face. One that was stronger than before. 

“I am a bastard child.” Sophie shut her eyes as she forced herself to repeat Araminta’s words. Shame on you, Sophie. 

“Again. I am a bastard child unworthy of love.” Araminta swelled with a disgusting sense of superiority. 

“I…am a bastard child…unworthy…of love.” Sophie's throat felt like it was on fire as she swallowed the insult.

“Good. Remember your place.” Araminta was pleased with herself. A bastard child like her needs to know her place. 

“Let us leave.” Sophie held the young maid’s shaking hand and pulled her along. Sophie needed to leave before she broke down in Araminta’s sight. That would merely feed her unfounded ego. 

“Sophie, I'm sorry.” The young maid knew Sophie did so to protect her. 

“Araminta wasn't wrong. I am a bastard child.” Sophie let out a slow and painful sigh, deciding that giving in was perhaps easier than fighting.

~

“Sophie!” Sophie's body reacted to Hyacinth's voice before her brain could.

“Yes, Hyacinth?” Sophie peeked into the hall.

“The cookies! I wanted to share the cookies that Daphne brought!” Hyacinth beckoned for Sophie to join the rest. Violet, Kate, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth were all gathered for tea.

“Sophie, come join us.” Eloise made space next to her. Sophie hesitated as she stared at the empty space on the plush couch. She wasn't worthy of the couch. 

“See Eloise, Sophie doesn't want to sit with you. Sophie, sit next to me!” Hyacinth tapped the space next to her as she looked at Sophie with a huge grin.

“I'm sure Sophie wants to sit next to me. Sophie?” Daphne offered. Sophie remained rooted at the entrance, overwhelmed by the kind offers.

“Is something the matter, Sophie?” Kate approached Sophie with worry in her eyes. 

“You're crying…” Kate bent down to look at Sophie. 

Before Sophie knew it, Kate had led her into the hall and the Bridgerton ladies surrounded her. 

“Did someone mistreat you, Sophie?” Daphne questioned. 

“Did Ben bother you? I'll go talk to him…” Eloise added while adjusting her dress in preparation to confront Benedict.

“Is work too harsh for you?” Hyacinth wondered. 

“Let us know what is bothering you and we can fix it, Sophie.” Violet's warm and concerned tone disarmed whatever self-control Sophie had left.

“Sorry, it's just…” Sophie hadn’t felt such genuine love and kindness for as long as she could remember. Heck, she didn’t even have any memory to speak of. 

“You’re part of us, Sophie.” Kate pulled Sophie into a hug. Perhaps Kate understood Sophie the best. 

“You, Sophie, deserve love. I don’t know what Lady Penwood told you but if there’s one thing you deserve, it is love. The love of a parent, the love of a family and the love of a man who cherishes you deeply.” Violet’s heart for Sophie had only grown since the day Benedict first brought her home. 

“Mama’s right. You have us now. We’ll be your family. We’ll love you.” Daphne and her sisters couldn’t be happier to have a sister like Sophie. 

For her entire life, Sophie had done everything to earn the love she deserved. Perhaps what Sophie deserved was a love she didn’t ever need to work for. And that came in the form of the Bridgertons. 

[ill-loveyouthroughthestars]

I NEED SOPHIE BECKETT TO BE IRISH !!!!

This is my Roman Empire, i have dreamt of this and I have multiple reasons

1. It will tie into History and how Irish people have always been considered an outcast in society for centuries especially before the famine

2. When I read the book all I could hear was an Irish!Sophie with her accent, her attitude, her antics and her random quotes are so Irish I just love (I also feel with this Irish attitude it could bring humour to their storyline and season)

3. I feel it would also play well with Benedict not being able to recognise her even more due to her accent ( at the masquerade she pretend to be British when actually she is fully Irish)

4. People would even question her parentage even more due to her being Irish and highly educated (which was a rare sight in that period of history)

5. I feel like this aspect of Sophie could show how she has never felt like a person, never having something that was her and with this symbolism it shows how Irish people had everything taken from them as a nation and as people such as aspects of language, land and etc.

Irish!Sophie has never knew how beautiful Irish culture is with araminta excluding her from this side of her due to never considering her as a person.

Headcannon- she arrives to the Bridgerton household and a few of the staff are Irish and they start speaking to her in Irish and she’s like “what” like utterly confused and they start to question her and her upbringing

6. And I was watching titanic (I know) and I was thinking this would be iconic for irish!sophie (let me cook!!!)

I imagine a scene like the Irish dance scene in titanic

^^^^^

When Sophie starts to work for the Bridgerton household she meet the other house staff which could have a few Irish iconic characters and they invite her to a drink and a dance in like an underground basement type of thing where there is montage of Sophie dancing a ceile or drinking with her fellow Irish people (rambled there for a second)

This starts to happen a few other nights and Benedict gets suspicious of her always being tired and he follows her one night and finds her dancing, singing and looking happy. He decides to confront her but just to see she has had too much fun ( she’s drunk) and as he is about to scould her or something idk she grabs him to dance (this could be like a moment he fully falls for her)

Skip to them leaving and Sophie is drunk and they could have a moment where it parallels to Benedict’s high dinner scene on their walk home (we live among the stars type of moment)

NOW HEAR ME OUT!!!!!

They could somehow have a little drunk smooch and Sophie is at the state of drunk that she nearly reveals that she was the lady in silver at the masquerade ball and as she’s about it fully tell him she’s like “I was the La- lady-“ AND SHE JUST PUKES ON HIS FEET

(Y’all cancel me Idaf I needed this to be known)

And there’s a moment where they just look in shock and disbelief they start to laugh.

Skip to the next morning and she is hungover like crazy and she leaves her room and runs into Benedict and just tries to ignore what happened last night and bids him hello and hurriedly speeds off while he chuckles to himself

7. With Sophie being Irish it could also make Benophie stronger as Benedict is willing to accept her and understand her culture and involve it in their life e.g buying her a claddagh ring as an engagement ring (one of the stories about the creation of the claddagh ring are about a peasant and a prince fall in love and it is forbidden or something and the prince gives her a ring to symbolise their love(BENOPHIE CODED)), learning Irish with her, visiting ireland and giving their children irish middle names

8. I also think a brilliant song for the season would be linger by the cranberries because the lyrics and meaning of the song are perfect for Benophie while it also being an Irish band

9. I know that people are hoping for a POC Sophie or a Latina Sophie but I feel with Irish Sophie’s exclusion from society due to her being Irish shoes a whole other side of Bridgerton’s defiance against societal norms

10.i think I just want an Irish Sophie because I’m Irish but shhhhh

[satinspiderweb]

[paradiseyuri]

✿.｡.:* ♀ *.:｡✿｡:.* ♀ *.｡.✿ Created By:||☆白-Hyacinth☆ respective credits to the creator ✿.｡.:* ♀ *.:｡✿｡:.* ♀ *.｡.✿ ⓟⒶⓇⒶⒹⒾⓈⒺ♡ⓎⓊⓇⒾ

[axelmedellin]

Daily drawing 3 sep 2024

Kalisa, for #kalisaflowers challenge

[kibutsulove]

What do you think about lesbian Illah, and who do you think would be a cannibal in atla🎤

lesbian ilah better mean girlzulon cuz if Azulon isn’t with her in every universe then I think the world wouldve been ashes by 45 AG and sort of unrelated but I have drawn fem azulon before

AAANDDD to the second part of the ask I think Hama would’ve been a cannibal at one point. Not out of choice but out of the need for survival . Girl was hungry :\

[julianpeterscomics]

"The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot, page 8

Check out page 8 of my comics adaptation of "The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot!

Every week on this site, I will be publishing a new page from my ongoing comics adaptation of “The Burial of the Dead,” the first section of T. S. Eliot’s epochal poem “The Waste Land” (Click on image to enlarge). Next week: A look into the heart of light!

[ourlittlesister2015]

Girl with Hyacinths [Flicka och Hyacinter] (1950), dir. Hasse Ekman

[lunedits]

[marypickfords]

Girl with Hyacinths (Hasse Ekman, 1950)

[soft-for-xie-lian]

I didn’t realize how picky I can be with my fanfic until I scrolled through the Purple Hyacinth webtoon’s lauki tag on ao3 omg, especially with straight ships i guess lol i’m like Keep your gender roles away from me oh god! Marriage? After one or two years of dating? Where's the years of pining first?? The months of what are we? What am i to you? Where’s the “i’d have you use me as your dagger and your stepping stool, and have you throw me away, but i know you’d never allow it”?????

But nooooo there’s mainly kieran flirtatiously being like “you cruel woman” and me wanting to eat my own teeth because of it