gone with the wind

For my birthday, I received Gone with the Wind as a gift from my grandmother. It is a beautiful, albeit sad love story in which the heroine, Scarlett spends her life pining over a married man, whilst all the while, she has the attention of Rhett, who proclaims he loves her more than he'd ever loved any woman. Almost typically, at the conclusion, Scarlett realises that the man that was in front of her along, Rhett, was indeed the man of her dreams, but she has now dashed any hopes of them ever being together again. 

The following is a collection of some of the magnificient illustrations which were included in the gift set, and some of my favourite quotes to tell the narrative...

There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South... Here in this pretty world Gallantry took its last bow... Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave... Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered. A Civilization gone with the wind...

Gerald O'Hara: Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett O'Hara, that Tara, that land doesn't mean anything to you? Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin' for, worth fightin' for, worth dyin' for, because it's the only thing that lasts.

Ashley: Isn't it enough that you've gathered every other man's heart today? You've always had mine. You cut your teeth on it.
Scarlett: Don't tease me now. Have I your heart, my darling? I love you. I love you.
Ashley: You mustn't say such things. You'll hate me for hearing them.
Scarlett: I could never hate you. And I know you must care about me. Oh, you do care, don't you?
Ashley: Yes, I do care. Oh, can't we go away and forget we ever said these things?
Scarlett: But how can we do that? Don't you... don't you want to marry me?
Ashley: I'm going to marry Melanie.
Scarlett: But you can't. Not if you care for me!
Ashley: Oh my dear, why must you make me say things that will hurt you? How can I make you understand? You're so young and unthinking. You don't know what marriage means.
Scarlett: All I know is that I love you! And you don't love Melanie!
Ashley: She's like me, Scarlett. She's part of my blood and we understand each other.
Scarlett: But you love me!
Ashley: How could I help loving you — you who have all the passion for life that I lack? But that kind of love isn't enough to make a successful marriage for two people who are as different as we are.

Rhett: Has the war started?

Scarlett: Sir, you... you should have made your presence known.

Rhett: In the middle of that beautiful love scene? That wouldn't be very tactful, would it? But don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

Scarlett: Sir, you are no gentleman.

Rhett: And you, miss, are no lady... Don't think that I hold that against you. Ladies have never held any charm for me.

Scarlett: Ooh, if I just wasn't a lady, WHAT wouldn't I tell that varmint.

Scarlett: Rhett, don't. I shall faint.

Rhett: I want you to faint. This is what you were meant for. None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this, have they? Your Charles, or your Frank, or your stupid Ashley.

[Rhett has brought Scarlett a new hat]
Scarlett: But really Rhett, I can't go on accepting these gifts although you are awfully kind.
Rhett: I'm not kind. I'm just tempting you. I never give anything without expecting something in return. Now, I always get paid.
Scarlett: If you think I'll marry you just to pay for the bonnet, I won't.
Rhett: Don't flatter yourself. I'm not a marrying man.
Scarlett: Well, I won't kiss you for it, either.
Rhett: Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don't think I will kiss you — although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.

Scarlett: [pleads with Rhett as he is about to leave to join the Confederate Army] Oh, Rhett! Please, don't go! You can't leave me! Please! I'll never forgive you!
Rhett Butler: I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if a bullet gets me, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot. There's one thing I do know... and that is that I love you, Scarlett. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you. Because we're alike. Bad lots, both of us. Selfish and shrewd. But able to look things in the eyes as we call them by their right names.
Scarlett: [struggles] Don't hold me like that!
Rhett Butler: [holds her tighter] Scarlett! Look at me! I've loved you more than I've ever loved any woman and I've waited for you longer than I've ever waited for any woman.
[kisses her forhead]
Scarlett:  [turns her face away] Let me alone!
Rhett Butler: [forces her to look him in the eyes] Here's a soldier of the South who loves you, Scarlett. Wants to feel your arms around him, wants to carry the memory of your kisses into battle with him. Never mind about loving me, you're a woman sending a soldier to his death with a beautiful memory. Scarlett! Kiss me! Kiss me... once

Scarlett: Ashley, you should have told me years ago that you loved her and not me, and not left me dangling with your talk of honor. But you had to wait till now, now when Melly's dying. To show me that I could never be any more to you than, than this Watling woman is to Rhett ... And I've loved something that doesn't really exist. Somehow, I don't care. Somehow, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter one bit. 

Rhett: My darling, you're such a child. You think that by saying "I'm sorry," all the past can be corrected. Here, take my handkerchief. Never, at any crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief.
Scarlett: Rhett! Rhett, where are you going?
Rhett: I'm going to Charleston, back where I belong.
Scarlett: Please, please take me with you!
Rhett: No, I'm through with everything here. I want peace. I want to see if somewhere there isn't something left in life of charm and grace. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Scarlett: No! I only know that I love you.
Rhett: That's your misfortune. [turns to walk down the stairs]
Scarlett: Oh, Rhett! [watches Rhett walk to the door] Rhett! [runs down the stairs after him] Rhett, Rhett! Rhett, Rhett... Rhett, where shall I go? What shall I do?
Rhett: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

 Scarlett: I can't let him go. I can't. There must be some way to bring him back. Oh, I can't think about this now! I'll go crazy if I do! I'll think about it tomorrow. But I must think about it. I must think about it. What is there to do? What is there that matters? Tara! Home. I'll go home. And I'll think of some way to get him back. After all... tomorrow is another day!

books and reflection

I just finished reading "The Great Gatsby", which was one of hundreds of vintage books I inherited from my dad. He had all of the classics, and I am slowly but surely working my way through the pre-loved novels.  The scent of second hand books always conjures up fond memories of my father... Whenever we would go on family holiday, the first thing my dad and I would do was scout out the beach side town's local secondhand bookstore (and the one in closest proximity to a flat white and an iced chocolate!). We would spend sometimes all afternoon in there, I remember sitting on the ground captivated by an Enid Blyton or Judy Blume book while he would potter about.

In primary school, the library was my haven, and there was a time where you could find me there everyday (I was quite the nerdy little book worm). In particular, there was one shelf in the library that I would always go to for my favourite genre, fiction. Oneday, I picked up a new title from my 'go to shelf' with cover art of a surprised looking boy standing by a red train steaming out star-hazed purple smoke.When I got home from school that evening, I pulled it out of my purply pink library bag, and began to read...

It didn't take long until my 12 year old self was absolutely captivated. I felt like I was part of this secret magical world that nobody knew about except a handful of those most carefully chosen. Like I had found the key and unlocked a worldful of dreams and possibilities never to have been imagined before. For a fleeting moment perhaps until the phenomenon took over.

I cant remember if he was still alive to tell him how amazing this new book was that I had found, but all I remember is that he never got to read it. Sometimes I miss those little things of the "I wonder what he would have to say about that".

I remembered seeing on Oprah that Jo Rowling's own mother passed away before she got to tell her about Harry Potter. Here is part of the transcript where she talks about her mother.

I like though how she goes from regretfulness to realising that is how life is, and that everything that happens in your life happens for a reason and it can make you more resilient.

Rowling: If I’m totally honest with you I regret much more that my mother never saw any of it (Harry Potter). That – that’s a bit of a killer. I mean she would have just –

Winfrey: Would she have loved reading it?

Rowling: I can honestly say I know a hundred percent she would have adored it. Yeah. Yeah.

Winfrey: But you started writing before she passed?

Rowling: Yeah, but I never told her about it.

Winfrey: You never told her?

Rowling: And I would have done. You know? I would have told her about it and I know she would have really liked it. I think she was – I think it was six months before she died I started writing. Yeah, and I never shared it with her.

Winfrey: Do you regret that?

Rowling: Yeah, hugely. Hugely. But the odd thing is that that’s just life, isn’t it? The books wouldn’t be what they are if she hadn’t died. I mean her death is on virtually every other page of the Harry Potter books, you know? At least half of Harry’s journey is a journey to deal with death in its many forms, what it does to the living, what it means to die, what survives death – it’s there in every single volume of the books.

Winfrey: What the love of your parents – the love of you parents. How that abides with you still. Yes.

Rowling: Exactly, exactly. Exactly. So, if she hadn’t died I don’t think it’s too strong to say there wouldn’t be Harry Potter. There wouldn’t – you know? The books are what they are because she died. Because I loved her and she died. That’s why they are what they are.

the girl

Today my friend told me about another online magazine which launched this month called matchbook magazine, which seems to be popping up all over the blogosphere! My friend also said I remind her a bit of the "matchbook girl". Ha! I am not so certain of that. Anyway, in vain, I have tried to polish up on my poetic skills and compare The matchbook girl (1st entry below...written by an author from their new magazine) to The beth girl (2nd entry.. written by me!) Just a bit of fun. Enjoy.

The matchbook girl...

by matchbook magazine

views the world through rose colored glasses • loves to throw dinner parties, but has been known to burn the roast • values eccentricity over convention • is the first to laugh at her own bad jokes • knows the cha-cha, the charleston, and the tango • paints her nails bright coral when she's feeling blue • is infinitely curious • could happily live off of red velvet cake • pens hand written notes to her grandmother • has a signature shade of lipstick • secretly thinks she may be babe paley reincarnated • received an iPAD for her birthday, but will never give up her library card • has a bucket list a mile long and dreams a dime a dozen • is smart, but never a show-off • listens to the day's forecast, but trusts her own intuition • never says no to a sunday matinee at the theater • is quick to blush, but never short of a witty reply • has a skip in her step and a twinkle in her eye • always shares her last piece of gum

The beth girl...
by Beth Edwards

views the world through tortoise shell rimmed glasses • loves to throw tea parties, and has been known to conceal over-baked cupcakes with lashings of icing • values the convention of eccentricity • is the first to laugh at her own “bethisms” • knows the cha-cha, the charleston, and the tango are best left to the professionals • paints her nails bright coral, red or fuschia when she is feeling inspired • is curious as to why curiosity killed the cat • could happily live off of red velvet (cup)cake(s) • pens hand written notes with great pleasure, but too few and far between •  owns copious shades of lipstick and lipgloss and likes to mix things up  • secretly thinks she may be a crooner from the swing era reincarnated  • WISHES she will receive an iPAD for her birthday, but even if she does, will never give up her love of paper backs • always makes a new years resolution, and dreams big • is smart enough to know you are never “smart enough” to stop learning • listens to the daily 10 forecast, and trusts her own intuition to not wind up like some of its subjects • never says no to a sunday afternoon rom com at the local cinema • always willing to try to converse in witty banter, although she may not always pull it off • has a whistle on her lips, and a heart-shaped freckle on her knee • always offers to share her favourite flavoured watermelon gum

image credit: matchbook magazine