Sense and Sensibility

Sufficient evidence gathered hereinafter cordially suggests a blesséd state, was indeed embraced by Mr. Ferrars (Hugh Grant) and Ms. Elinor Dashwood (Emma Thompson) vigorously engaged in holy matrimony. 

Misfortune and finicky finances egregiously attempted to discourteously repudiate, but chance attuned to ethereal endeavour providentially bequeathed ecstatic union.

Regarding Ms. Marianne Dashwood (Kate Winslet), who had been laid low due to flagrant ignominy, and left to harken despondent despair after having shockingly admitted scandal, her path gregariously recultivated through less self-centred earthen pertinence, has been noted as indirectly ebullient at festive times courting celebration.

Somewhat odd to see such import indubitably attached to conjugal digression, the tragic dialectic intermediately adjoining romantic longing and practical accords, the vicious reprobation denying their freeform mutually beneficial cathartic synthesis, morosely encouraging robotic remonstrance as opposed to nuptial nadir. 

Proust had alternative thoughts altogether and dramatically critiqued his sibling's marital fancies, somewhat less enamoured with Victorian reverie even if it ironically permeates his alternative narrative.

Uncanny to envision a stately world wherein which no one works or toils, where the infringing struggles and herculean cynosure are strictly levelled through estate and income.

Not that other social strata don't freely admit grey bumptious bias, perhaps humorous pretensions synthetically compared enigmatically emitting concentric harmonies.

How to delicately enliven such incommensurable audiences without rashly contradicting audacious accords, a close study of one Jack Layton perhaps amenable to a discussion of Foucauldian power relations. 

I must admit, I'm more accustomed to less superstructural arrangements, wherein which a noteworthy cast from sundry domiciles fluently agitate and preposterously proclaim, although I have in fact read this book and clearly understand why so many still read Ms. Austen, there's no doubt she's atemporally gifted, not my style really, but better than most. 

Certainly a world in which the Dashwoods find their Ferrars and Colonels doesn't intuitively provoke inclement entropy, or cosmically upset reverential taste, I wonder what's happening in contemporary literature, as the counter-postmodern reformation blindly struggles. 

I just made that up, I assume that's what's happening anyways.

Focusing on Wabi Sabi myself. 

And the upcoming adventurous summer.

Co-starring Imelda Staunton (Charlotte Palmer), Alan Rickman (The Colonel), and Tom Wilkinson (Mr. Dashwood).