Song of Myself
Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk--toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs. After appearing in only the first season, Fawcett decided to leave the show, which led to legal disputes. That is, direct and explicit instructions to think outside the box did not help.
Somebody Killed Her Husband. Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks. Sermons, creeds, theology--but the fathomless human brain, And what is reason? Her s work in TV movies also earned her four additional Golden Globe nominations. Hollywood Foreign Press Association. This is the city and I am one of the citizens, Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools, The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.
The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe. Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. Vivas to those who have fail'd! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known! This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has. Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? Do I astonish more than they? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. What is a man anyhow? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth. Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd, I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.
Why should I pray? Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means. I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass, I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all. I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Have you outstript the rest? It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.
I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. Press close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night! Night of south winds--night of the large few stars! Still nodding night--mad naked summer night. Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset--earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbow'd earth--rich apple-blossom'd earth!
Smile, for your lover comes. Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love. I resign myself to you also--I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me, We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea, I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.
Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms. I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them? I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also. What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?
Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified? I find one side a balance and the antipedal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.
This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel. And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.
A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all. I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.
Hurrah for positive science! Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician. Gentlemen, to you the first honors always! Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.
Less the reminders of properties told my words, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication, And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt, And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that plot and conspire. Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index. I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God!
I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms. Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you! Firm masculine colter it shall be you! Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you! You my rich blood! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you! My brain it shall be your occult convolutions! Root of wash'd sweet-flag! Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!
Sun so generous it shall be you! Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you! You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you! Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you! Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you.
I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again. That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. To behold the day-break!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate. Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven. The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!
We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak. My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds. Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then? Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?
Waiting in gloom, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Happiness, which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day. My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am, Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.
Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.
I hear the violoncello, 'tis the young man's heart's complaint, I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music--this suits me. A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full. I hear the train'd soprano what work with hers is this? The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the indolent waves, I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath, Steep'd amid honey'd morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of death, At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, And that we call Being.
Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither, If nothing lay more develop'd the quahaug in its callous shell were enough. Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.
I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand. The sentries desert every other part of me, They have left me helpless to a red marauder, They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me.
I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there. Did it make you ache so, leaving me? Parting track'd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan, Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward. Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden. Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies is so. A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman, And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other, And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it becomes omnific, And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.
I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire it. In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying low, In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky, In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs, In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods, In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador, I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
So they show their relations to me and I accept them, They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession. I wonder where they get those tokens, Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?
Myself moving forward then and now and forever, Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms. A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return. I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them? Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you. My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision. I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.
I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets. I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me. I anchor my ship for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me.
I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue. I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery is plain in all directions, The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my fancies toward them, We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon to be engaged, We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with still feet and caution, Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city, The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living cities of the globe.
I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires, I turn the bridgroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself, I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips. My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd. I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful of days and faithful of nights, And chalk'd in large letters on a board, Be of good cheer, we will not desert you; How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days and would not give it up, How he saved the drifting company at last, How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated from the side of their prepared graves, How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp'd unshaved men; All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.
The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous buckshot and the bullets, All these I feel or am. I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I fall on the weeds and stones, The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close, Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks.
Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe. I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.
I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches. Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.
I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion, The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.
Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand, He gasps through the clot Mind not me--mind--the entrenchments. Retreating they had form'd in a hollow square with their baggage for breastworks, Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemies, nine times their number, was the price they took in advance, Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone, They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing and seal, gave up their arms and march'd back prisoners of war.
They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age. The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads and massacred, it was beautiful early summer, The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by eight.
None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there, Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away, These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts of muskets, A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two more came to release him, The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.
At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men. Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars? List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me. Our foe was no sulk in his ship I tell you, said he, His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us.
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands. We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead. Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.
The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust. Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter? If our colors are struck and the fighting done? Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting. Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.
The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top, They hold out bravely during the whole of the action. Not a moment's cease, The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine. One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking. Serene stands the little captain, He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low, His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us. In at the conquer'd doors they crowd! Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain. For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch, It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night. Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.
Not a youngster is taken for larceny but I go up too, and am tried and sentenced. Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat.
Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg. Somehow I have been stunn'd. Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake. That I could forget the mockers and insults! That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludgeons and hammers! That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning. I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.
I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an average unending procession, Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines, Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth, The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of years. Eleves, I salute you! Continue your annotations, continue your questionings. Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?
Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? Is he from the Mississippi country? Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them. Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd head, laughter, and naivete, Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations, They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly out of the glance of his eyes.
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also. Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days. Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.
You there, impotent, loose in the knees, Open your scarf'd chops till I blow grit within you, Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets, I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare, And any thing I have I bestow. In , she was ranked No. In , Fawcett began her career in commercials and guest roles on television. During the s, she appeared in numerous television series, including recurring roles on Harry O — , and The Six Million Dollar Man — with then husband, film and television star Lee Majors.
The show propelled all three to stardom, but especially Fawcett then billed as "Farrah Fawcett-Majors". After appearing in only the first season, Fawcett decided to leave the show, which led to legal disputes. She eventually signed a contract that required her to make six guest appearances in the show's third and fourth seasons — For her role in Charlie's Angels she received her first Golden Globe nomination.
In , Fawcett received positive reviews for her performance in the Off-Broadway play Extremities. She was subsequently cast in the film version and received a Golden Globe nomination. Her s work in TV movies also earned her four additional Golden Globe nominations. In , she gained some negative press for a rambling appearance on The Late Show with David Letterman , but also garnered strong reviews for her role in the film The Apostle with Robert Duvall.
She continued in numerous TV series, including recurring roles in the sitcom Spin City and the drama The Guardian — For the latter, she received her third Emmy nomination. Fawcett was diagnosed with anal cancer in , and she died three years later at age She posthumously earned her fourth Emmy nomination for her work as a producer on the documentary. Fawcett was born in in Corpus Christi, Texas ; she was the younger of two daughters.
A Roman Catholic ,  Fawcett began her early education at the parish school of the church her family attended, St.
Ray High School in Corpus Christi, where she was voted "most beautiful" by her classmates in her freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior years of high school. For three years —68 , she attended the University of Texas , where she studied art.
During her freshman year, she was named one of the "ten most beautiful coeds on campus"; it was the first time that a freshman had been chosen for the honor. Her photos were sent to various agencies in Hollywood. David Mirisch, a Hollywood agent, called her and urged her to come to Los Angeles.
She turned him down, but he called her for the next two years. Finally, in the summer following her junior year , Fawcett moved to Hollywood with her parents' permission to "try her luck" in the entertainment industry. Counselor at Law , Mayberry R. T , and had a recurring role on Harry O alongside David Janssen as the title character's girlfriend, Sue.
In , after Pro Arts Inc. Her blonde highlights were further heightened by a squeeze of lemon juice. Due to the popularity of her poster, Fawcett earned a supporting role in Michael Anderson 's science-fiction film Logan's Run with Michael York. She and her husband, television star Lee Majors , were frequent tennis partners with producer Aaron Spelling. The movie starred Fawcett then billed as Farrah Fawcett-Majors , Kate Jackson , and Jaclyn Smith as private investigators for Townsend Associates, a detective agency run by a reclusive multimillionaire whom the women had never met.
Voiced by John Forsythe , the Charles Townsend character presented cases and dispensed advice via a speakerphone to his core team of three female employees, whom he referred to as "Angels".
They were aided in the office and occasionally in the field by two male associates, played by character actors David Doyle and David Ogden Stiers. The program quickly earned a huge following, leading the network to air it a second time and approve production for a series, with the pilot's principal cast minus Ogden Stiers.
The Charlie's Angels series formally debuted on September 22, Each of the three actresses was propelled to stardom, but Fawcett dominated popularity polls and was soon proclaimed a phenomenon.
When we got to be number one, I decided it could only be because none of us wears a bra. Fawcett's appearance in the television show boosted sales of her poster, and she earned far more in royalties from poster sales than from her salary for appearing in Charlie's Angels. In the spring of , Fawcett left Charlie's Angels after only one season. Over the years, numerous explanations were offered for Fawcett's precipitous withdrawal from the show.
Because her husband, Lee Majors, was the star of an established television show himself ABC's Six Million Dollar Man which aired from to , the strain on her marriage due to filming schedules that kept them apart for long periods was frequently cited, but her ambition to broaden her acting abilities in films has also been given as an explanation. She never officially signed her series contract with Spelling owing to protracted negotiations over royalties from her image's use in peripheral products, which led to an even more protracted lawsuit filed by Spelling and his company when she quit the show.
As a result of leaving her contract four years early, she reluctantly signed a new contract with ABC stating that she would make six guest appearances on the series over a two-year period — Charlie's Angels was a major success throughout the world, maintaining its appeal in syndication and spawning particularly in the show's first three seasons a cottage industry of peripheral products, including several series of bubble gum cards , two sets of fashion dolls , numerous posters, puzzles, and school supplies, novelizations of episodes, toy vans, and a board game, all featuring Fawcett's likeness.
The "Angels" also appeared on the covers of magazines around the world, from countless fan magazines to TV Guide four times to Time. In , the television movie Behind the Camera: In , Fawcett starred with Kirk Douglas in Stanley Donen 's science-fiction film Saturn 3 ; the film earned unfavorable reviews from critics and experienced poor box office sales. In , Fawcett won critical acclaim for her role in the Off-Broadway stage production of the controversial play Extremities , written by William Mastrosimone.
Replacing Susan Sarandon , she played the role of an attempted rape victim who turns the tables on her attacker. Police removed the man and were only able to issue him a summons for disorderly conduct. The following year, her role as battered wife Francine Hughes in the fact-based television movie The Burning Bed earned her the first of her four Emmy Award nominations. In , Fawcett appeared in the movie version of Extremities , which was also well received by critics and performed well financially.
At the time there was even talk and buzz about the possibility of her receiving an Oscar nomination for her role in the film.
She appeared in Jon Avnet 's Between Two Women with Colleen Dewhurst , and took several more dramatic roles as infamous or renowned women. The Story of Margaret Bourke-White. Her portrayal of convicted murderer Diane Downs in the miniseries Small Sacrifices earned her a second Emmy nomination  and her sixth Golden Globe Award nomination. Fawcett brings a sense of realism rarely seen in television miniseries to a drama of unusual power". Fawcett had steadfastly resisted appearing nude in magazines throughout the s and s, even though she had briefly appeared topless in the film Saturn 3.
She caused a major stir by posing semi-nude in the December issue of Playboy. The issue and its accompanying video featured Fawcett actually using her own body to paint on canvas; for years, this had been one of her ambitions. That same year, Fawcett was chosen by Robert Duvall to play his wife in The Apostle , which was an independent feature film that he was producing. She received an Independent Spirit Award nomination as Best Actress for the film, which was highly critically acclaimed.
Her character has a mental breakdown, leading to Fawcett's first fully nude appearance. Madonna 's brother Christopher Ciccone describes befriending Fawcett around this time and giving her a studio visit for her abstract paintings and sculpture.
The sculpture was also presented in a series of photographs and a book by Rizzoli. In November , Fawcett prepared for her Broadway debut in a production of Bobbi Boland , the tragicomic tale of a former Miss Florida. However, the show never officially opened, closing during preview performances.
Fawcett was described as "vibrating with frustration" at the producer's extraordinary decision to cancel the production; just days earlier, the same producer closed an Off-Broadway show she had been backing. Fawcett continued to work in television, with well-regarded appearances in made-for-television movies and on popular television series including Ally McBeal and four episodes each of Spin City and The Guardian. Her work on the latter show earned her a third Emmy nomination in Fawcett began dating Lee Majors in the late s.
During her marriage, she was known and credited in her roles as Farrah Fawcett-Majors. From until , Fawcett was romantically involved with actor Ryan O'Neal. From to , Fawcett had a relationship with Canadian filmmaker James Orr ,  writer and producer of the Disney feature film in which she co-starred with Chevy Chase and Jonathan Taylor Thomas , Man of the House.
The relationship ended when Orr was charged with and later convicted of beating Fawcett during a fight between the two. On June 5, , Fawcett received negative commentary after giving a rambling interview and appearing distracted on Late Show with David Letterman.
Fawcett's elder sister, Diane Fawcett Walls, died of lung cancer just before her 63rd birthday, on October 16, Fawcett was diagnosed with anal cancer in  and began treatment that included chemotherapy and surgery. Doctors contemplated whether to implant a radiation seeder which differs from conventional radiation and is used to treat other types of cancer.
Not wanting to proceed with a colostomy for treatment of her stage IV cancer, she traveled to Germany for treatments described variously in the press as " holistic ",  "aggressive",  and "alternative". Ursula Jacob prescribed a treatment including surgery to remove the anal tumor, a course of perfusion and embolization for her liver cancer by Doctors Claus Kiehling and Thomas Vogl in Germany, and chemotherapy back in Los Angeles.
Although initially the tumors were regressing, their reappearance a few months later necessitated a new course, this time including laser ablation therapy and chemoembolization. In early April , Fawcett was back in the United States and hospitalized.
Media reports declared her unconscious and in critical condition ,   although subsequent reports indicated her condition was not so dire. This was a development that Fawcett had learned of in May and which her subsequent treatments in Germany had targeted.
The report denied that she was unconscious and explained that the hospitalization was not due to her cancer, but instead due to a painful abdominal hematoma that had been the result of a minor procedure. Her spokesperson emphasized she was not "at death's door", adding "She remains in good spirits with her usual sense of humor She's been in great shape her whole life and has an incredible resolve and an incredible resilience.
She was accompanied by longtime companion O'Neal, and according to her doctor, was "walking and in great spirits and looking forward to celebrating Easter at home. A month later, on May 7, Fawcett was reported as being critically ill, with Ryan O'Neal quoted as saying she now spends her days at home, on an IV and often asleep.
Her year-old father, James, flew out to Los Angeles to visit. Lawrence Piro was treating Fawcett in L. They dispelled tabloid-fueled rumors, including suggestions that Fawcett had ever been in a coma, had ever reached 86 pounds, and had ever given up her fight against the disease or lost the will to live.
Jackson decried such fabrications, saying they "really do hurt a human being and a person like Farrah. Of the documentary, Jackson averred Fawcett "didn't do this to show that 'she' is unique, she did it to show that we are all unique On July 16, , Fawcett posthumously earned her fourth Emmy nomination as the producer of Farrah's Story.
Controversy surrounded the aired version of the documentary. Her initial producing partner—who had worked with her four years earlier on her reality series Chasing Farrah —alleged that the editing of the program by O'Neal and Stewart was not in keeping with her wishes to more thoroughly explore alternative methods of treatment of rare types of cancers such as her own.
She had generally kept her son out of the media, and his appearances were minimal in Chasing Farrah. Fawcett died at 9: A private funeral was held in Los Angeles on June 30, Farrah's son Redmond was permitted to leave his California detention center to attend the service, where he gave the first reading.
News of Fawcett's death was largely overshadowed by the media coverage of the death of music icon Michael Jackson , which occurred a few hours later on the same day.
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Through me the afflatus surging and surging, are we officially dating watch online megavideo me the current and index. Thinking outside the box Submitted by Greg on July 10, - 2: Debriefing; Farrah Fawcett's Early Exit". A different -- and very healthy, positive, and productive -- way to think about TOTB is to understand that it merely represents an insight that can remind an individual to consciously become aware of limiting assumptions. Why Toxic People Get Ahead. Continue your annotations, continue your questionings. This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.
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