近期大爱—微卷中长发

拯救你有缺陷的眼睛

小眼睛的大眼妆法:　
a 用黑/深灰色眼线笔在上眼皮眼尾1/2～1/3部分画眼线，用米色珍珠光泽眼影修饰眼头位置；
b 深灰色眼影压在眼线上，再用刷子或指尖薄薄往上晕；
c 夹翘睫毛，刷上纤长效果的黑色睫毛膏，“打开”眼睛的“范围”，眼尾处要多刷几遍；如果你有黑眼圈或者眼袋，就不用再刷下睫毛了；
d 下眼头处涂上白色/银白色眼影/眼彩蜜；提示：用环绕眼眶的粗眼线让小眼睛变大的做法是不可取的，如果你不是80后怪怪美少女，或是为了Party特别营造的妆效，还是不要尝试这种奇怪呆板的画法了。


单眼皮/内双的双眼皮梦想:
a 用深蓝紫色眼影画出外1/2～1/3的下眼线；
b 刷上纤长效果的黑色睫毛膏；
c 双眼皮贴纸自然是不可或缺的秘密武器；
d 将少量孔雀蓝或紫色眼影粉刷在眼尾处即可，晕开的范围不要太大，营造自然的深邃效果；提示：贴双眼皮贴纸时，在眼头起始处贴近眼线，而眼尾处则略为抬高，这样贴出的双眼皮效果更自然。


拯救“眼大无神”:　
a 先用第一部分介绍的方法使用遮瑕品遮盖掉眼袋、黑眼圈及眼周的小瑕疵；
b 用米色珍珠光泽眼影打亮上眼皮，眼周皮肤提亮之后干净均匀，眼睛自然就先有神了5分；
c 夹翘睫毛，刷上黑色纤长睫毛膏；若睫毛稀疏，可先刷一遍浓密型睫毛膏；提示：东方人的睫毛天生并不卷翘，加上又容易有黑眼圈，是令许多人看上去“眼大无神”的主要原因；所以只要打亮眼周皮肤，再刷上卷翘睫毛膏，就不需要更多修饰了。

She Was a Phantom of Delight

by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850)

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.

Retrospect

by Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)

In your arms was still delight,
Quiet as a street at night;
And thoughts of you, I do remember,
Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,
Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
Love, in you, went passing by,
Penetrative, remote, and rare,
Like a bird in the wide air;
And, as the bird, it left no trace
In the heaven of your face.
In your stupidity I found
The sweet hush after a sweet sound.
All about you was the light
That dims the graying end of night;
Desire was the unrisen sun,
Joy the day not yet begun,
With tree whispering to tree,
Without wind, quietly.
Wisdom slept within your hair,
And Long-suffering was there,
And, in the flowing of your dress,
Undiscerning Tenderness.
And when you thought, it seemed to me,
Infinitely, and like a sea,
About the sleight world you had known
Your vast unconsciousness was thrown. . . .

O haven without wave or tide!
Silence, in which all songs have died!
Holy book, where all hearts are still!
And home at length, under the hill!
O mother quiet, breasts of peace,
Where love itself would faint and cease!
O infinite deep I never knew,
I would come back, come back to you;
Find you, as a pool unstirred,
Kneel down by you, and never a word;
Lay my head, and nothing said,
In your hands, ungarlanded.
And a long watch you would keep;
And I should sleep, and I should sleep!

My First Love

by Wislawa Szymborska (1923 - )

They say
the first love's most important.
That's very romantic,
but not my experience.

Something was and wasn't there between us,
something went on and went away.

My hands never tremble
when I stumble on silly keepsakes
and a sheaf of letters tied with string
— not even ribbon.

Our only meeting after years:
two chairs chatting
at a chilly table.

Other loves
still breathe deep inside me.
This one's too short of breath even to sigh.

Yet just exactly as it is,
it does what the others still can't manage:
unremembered,
not even seen in dreams,
it introduces me to death.

To a Stranger

by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,


You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

La Vita Nuova

by Dante Alighieri (1265 - 1321)

In that book which is
My memory . . .
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words . . .
Here begins a new life