Is beauty a gift or a punishment? ? ?

Ona 2022-03-20 09:02:37

Beauty is a disaster for a woman without wisdom.
But sometimes, with or without wisdom, beauty is the catalyst for tragedy.

If you are fortunate enough to use wisdom just right, you can temporarily escape the catastrophe, but the vast majority of beautiful and wise women cannot escape a tragic fate in the end.

Medusa in Greek mythology was originally a pure and kind beautiful girl, but after being raped by Poseidon, the god of the sea, and thanks to Athena, she became a witch with snake hair. No one dared to look at her, let alone. Love her.
Beauty is not a gift to her, but a punishment.

This is true of mythology, and it is even more true of history through the ages. Clark's beloved wife, smart and beautiful, but young Xiang Xiaoyu died. Cleopatra, although the debate about her beauty has not ended up to now, but the recognition of her wisdom is indeed as undisputed as the truth.

It is a way of returning, a law, a prophecy. It is a pity for a beautiful woman, and finally turned into a bag of dust and returned to where it came from.

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Extended Reading

Dangerous Beauty quotes

  • Veronica Franco: There's not a man in Venice I can't have.

    Marco Venier: And there's not a woman in Venice I can't have.

    Veronica Franco: You cannot have me.

  • Veronica Franco: I confess that as a young girl I loved a man who would not marry me for want of a dowry. I confess I had a mother who taught me a different way of life, one I resisted at first but learned to embrace. I confess I became a courtesan, traded yearning for power, welcomed many rather than be owned by one. I confess I embraced a whore's freedom over a wife's obedience. I confess I find more ecstacy in passion than in prayer. Such passion is prayer. I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips. His hands upon me, his arms enfolding me... Such surrender has been mine. I confess I pray still to be filled and enflamed. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always, this is mine. If this had not been mine-if I had lived any other way-a child to her husband's will, my soul hardened from lack of touch and lack of love... I confess such endless days and nights would be a punishment far greater than you could ever mete out. You, all of you, you who hunger so for what I give yet cannot bear to see that kind of power in a woman. You call God's greatest gift-ourselves, our yearning, our need to love-you call it filth and sin and heresy... I repent there was no other way open to me. I do not repent my life.