Posts

Showing posts with the label kindness

None can be called deformed but the unkind

At a moment when he believes he has been betrayed, Antonio makes a profound statement: "In nature there's no blemish but the unkind; None can be called deformed but the unkind" (Twelfth Night, 3.4.386-87). I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. Last night, me and my roommates watched the movie Wonder, and I was reminded how much I love the message of that story. Even though the other children are somewhat scared of August's face when they first see him, those that give him a chance and actually talk to him find that August Pullman is a funny, nice person, completely normal and the same as everyone else on the inside. By the end of the story, Jack Will, Summer, nor any of the other kids who got to know Auggie would call him "deformed," because they have gotten to see who he really is. I frequently become way too concerned with how I look. I get annoyed at my nose for being unattractive or my hips for being too wide, and I fall into this trap of thi...

I can no other answer make but thanks

 My favorite character in Twelfth Night  is Antonio. We could go really deep into who Antonio really is or what he adds to the play, but when it comes down to it, what I really love is that Antonio is kind . His actions throughout the play are motivated purely out of love, and he performs them so selflessly. At one point, Antonio gives Sebastian his money, and Sebastian is blown away by his kindness. "My kind Antonio," he says, "I can no other answer make but thanks/And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns/are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay" ( Twelfth Night, 3.3.14-18). I was recently shown a tremendous act of kindness by a friend who painted me a picture because she knows I've been struggling with some things. As I cried over this painting and the love that was put into it, I thought of this moment between Antonio and Sebastian, and I realized that I had nothing to give my friend but thanks. Such an act of kindness is truly invaluable, and as much...

Much in our vows

Under the guise of a man, Viola has a very interesting conversation with Orsino about love. Orsino believes that women cannot love to the same extent that men can, but Viola disagrees, claiming that as men, they prove "much in our vows but little in our love" (Twelfth Night, 2.4.130). I think this phrase can actually be applied to many of us, male and female; too often we are fair-weather friends, or we love only in word and not in deed. Lately I've been realizing just how much people need  friends and family. It isn't just nice  to have somebody to spend weekend nights with, or nice  to have people to come home to, it's absolutely necessary. For that reason, it is absolutely necessary to be a true friend. Saying that you are a friend and actually being one are two different things, and it is essential to be the latter rather than the former. Making someone believe you are their friend, and then not caring enough to truly commit to loving that person and being the...

A mind that envy could not but call fair

 I was completely captivated this phrase Sebastian used while describing his sister: "she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair" (2.3.28-29). We live in a world that tries to convince us that looks and appearances are everything; if you are beautiful, you can have it all, and if you are not then you do not have any worth. As I read this sentence, I was reminded of something that stuck out to me while reading Elder Holland's How Do I Love Thee  speech given at a BYU devotional, which we were assigned to read for my Shakespeare class a few weeks ago. In it, Elder Holland presents the idea that because there are certain qualities we cannot control (ex, wealth or how we look), it is all the more impressive when we handle well those qualities that we do have control over (ex, kindness). I love this quote from Sebastian, because he is teaching us that beauty and outward appearances are only trifling and temporary. Rather, what matters most, and what we will be remembere...

But why should honor outlive honesty?

 In the middle of all of the chaos of the final scene of Othello , Othello says something that I found quite profound: "But why should honor outlive honesty?" (5.2.293). Despite the fact that Othello has just killed his wife, despite all of the disorder that is surrounding him at this very moment, Othello makes this interesting observation that people are often known for being honorable for much longer than they are actually honorable. Once again, this ties into the theme of outward appearances, though in a different way. I think that I often do good things to impress people or make a nice show of being a good person, rather than out of a desire to actually love those around me. This is a good thing for me to consider when I go about trying to serve: am I doing this for their sake, or for mine? Am I doing this to be an honorable person, or to have the reputation of being honorable? It's interesting that Othello makes this observation when it is too late; after he has kill...

Though he speaks of comfort

I guess outward appearances have been on my mind a lot lately, because that's a theme I've been noticing throughout Shakespeare recently. One such example comes from Othello , when a gentleman is reporting on Cassio's arrival to Cyprus and the hope that Othello will similarly arrive safely. He says, "But this same Cassio, though he speaks of comfort/Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly/And prays the Moor be safe, for they were parted/With foul and violent tempest" (2.1.34-37). The military has just received the wonderful news that the Turkish fleet has been sunk by the storm, and yet despite this great cause for celebration, what is on Cassio's mind? The fear that his friend might be lost to the same storm. I think that this is part of the reason why Othello's eventual distrust of Cassio is so painful; they are such good friends at the beginning of the story, friends who care about the safety and wellbeing of one another, and all of that gets comp...

And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee

One of my favorite parts of Much Ado About Nothing was when Beatrice was tricked into believing that Benedick loved her. Immediately after hearing Ursula and Hero discuss Benedick's affections for her, Beatrice decides she must leave behind her former contempt and maiden, pride, because such things are not as glorious as the possibility of love. My favorite line (in act 3, scene 2) is line 117: "And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee." This is a softer side of Beatrice, a side that, up until this point, we have not been able to see. This decision to requite Benedick's love may seem sudden and impulsive, like an infatuation that will quickly disappear. However, I think that Beatrice's love is actually much more than this. Perhaps the harsh words and quick tongue that Beatrice displays throughout Much Ado About Nothing  are actually walls that Beatrice has built up around herself to prevent any further heartache than she has already experienced. We learn from B...

And a fellow that hath had losses

A quote that stuck out to me as we were discussing Much Ado About Nothing in class this week is when Dogberry, in describing himself, says, "and a fellow that hath had losses." This phrase is easily missed, as it is accompanied by a jumble of other things Dogberry says about himself, such as the fact that he is wise and "as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina." The first time I read through this part of the play, I completely missed Dogberry mentioning that he has also had his losses, because I was so focused on the endearing descriptions Dogberry gives himself, in his comical way of talking that makes him such a lovable character. However, as we discussed Dogberry in class, my teacher brought up the fact that Dogberry points out that he "hath had losses." Once again, I was blown away by the genius of Shakespeare as I recognized that Dogberry was a mirror reflection of so many of the seemingly happy people we encounter every day in today's world...