Hmmmmm.....Nisam navodila njen fizicki izgled i zavisi ono sto je gabor tebi meni nije.
Forma dat esse rei – Forma daje suštinu stvari.
Plain Jane ...Her elder sister Cassandra had a certain talent for drawing and drew Jane’s likeness many times. But only two of her efforts have survived, and one does not show the face at all. The other does, and this is the portrait of Jane Austen that is endlessly reproduced in all the biographies and illustrated articles. It shows that she had large, luminous eyes, and this confirms other evidence but does not prove that she was either dazzlingly pretty or rather on the plain side. The fact is that as a portraitist Cassandra had no skill in conveying the essential visual truth about a subject’s face. The literary evidence about Jane Austen’s appearance is likewise inconclusive. Everyone agreed that she was a lively child and adolescent, eager, clever, talkative, and quick to learn. She was funny and loved laughter. She thought a good deal about handsome young men, and there is even a suggestion that she was a husbandhunter. Well, what normal girl was not, in those days? But no one ever suggested that she was a beauty. Had she been, the news would certainly have filtered through the censorship screens of the Austen family. If Jane had been “very handsome,” like Elizabeth Elliot in Persuasion, or “handsome” like Emma, or even “a very pretty girl,” like the young Anne Elliot, we would certainly have known it. The chances are that Jane Austen was no more than “a fine girl,” the rather dismissive phrase that she uses to describe a young woman who has no claim to personal distinction in her looks.
No, u odnosu na George Eliot ....
Dakle, gubitak za bračni život- dobitak za književnost.But the outstanding example of plainness fostering genius and leading to fulfillment is George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans, 1819–1880). She was almost grotesquely plain, while radiating intelligence, wit, and laughter, at any rate as a young woman; later she became more solemn.9 But no man ever proposed to her until after she made herself rich and famous.
Marian Evans was a highly emotional, not to say amorous woman, and if she could have married a man of anything approaching her own intelligence, she might have been perfectly happy, given birth to many children, and never written a novel. The trouble was that she was neither pretty nor handsome. Frederick Locker wrote: “Her countenance was equine. Her head had been intended for a much larger woman. Her garments concealed her outline, they gave her a waist like a milestone.” Jane Carlyle observed: “She looks Propriety personified. Oh, so slow!” Evans fell in love repeatedly—for example with Herbert Spencer, to us a fusty, flyblown figure; founder of that pseudoscience sociology; writer of now unreadable books; and celebrated chiefly for his curious saying, “A proficiency at billiards is a sure sign of a misspent youth.”
If Marian Evans had induced Spencer to marry her, the likelihood is that she would not have become a writer of fiction, of which he strongly disapproved. Denied marriage, she moved in an overwhelmingly masculine society.