D H Lawrence "The Mess of Love" Poem animation скачать в хорошем качестве

D H Lawrence "The Mess of Love" Poem animation

Heres a virtual movie of D. H. Lawrence reading his poem "The Mess of Love" published around 1929. David Herbert Richards Lawrence (11 September 1885 2 March 1930) was an English author, poet, playwright, essayist and literary critic. His collected works represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanising effects of modernity and industrialisation. In them, Lawrence confronts issues relating to emotional health and vitality, spontaneity, human sexuality and instinct. Lawrence's opinions earned him many enemies and he endured official persecution, censorship, and misrepresentation of his creative work throughout the second half of his life, much of which he spent in a voluntary exile he called his "savage pilgrimage."[1] At the time of his death, his public reputation was that of a pornographer who had wasted his considerable talents. E. M. Forster, in an obituary notice, challenged this widely held view, describing him as, "The greatest imaginative novelist of our generation."[2] Later, the influential Cambridge critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness, placing much of Lawrence's fiction within the canonical "great tradition" of the English novel. Lawrence is now generally valued as a visionary thinker and significant representative of modernism in English literature, although some feminists object to the attitudes toward women and sexuality found in his works Kind Regards Jim Clark All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2011 The Mess of Love.......... We've made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woman, a certain woman, all my life That moment I begin to hate her. The moment I even say to a woman: I love you! --- My love dies down considerably. The moment love is an understood thing between us, we are sure of it, It's a cold egg, it isn't love any more. Love is like a flower, it must flower and fade; If it doesn't fade, it is not a flower, It's either an artificial rag blossom, or an immortelle, for the cemetery. The moment the mind interferes with love, or the will fixes on it, Or the personality assumes it as an attribute, or the ego takes possession of it, It is not love any more, it's just a mess. And we've made a great mess of love, mind-perverted, will-perverted, ego-perverted love.