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daniel, 29, az ♌️♈️♍️

[3rdwav]

I think the time has finally come

[draculasswife-deactivated202212]

L'Angelo, la Morte e il Diavolo, 2018, by Roberto Ferri.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Khufu and the Great Sphinx ca. 1860-1929

  📷  Zangakia via New York Public Library

[wordsnquotes]

Go all the way with it. Do not back off. For once, go all the goddamn way with what matters.

Ernest Hemingway (via wordsnquotes)

[nicetrails]

[OC] [1284x2778] Almost perfect naturally formed straight line down the centre of this rock formation close to Al Ula, Saudi Arabia.

[wedge-of-poetry]

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees—just as things grow in fast movies—I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via wedge-of-words)

[draculasswife-deactivated202212]

Details from paintings by Roberto Ferri.

[thepersonalquotes]

[mynocturnality]

St. Peter's Chair in the Papal Basilica of Saint Peter in the Vatican.

⚜ Baroque month on @mynocturnality

[filmovievault]

[qvotext]

All the bright, precious things fade so fast. And they don’t come back.

F. Scott Fitzgerald; The Great Gatsby (via qvotext)

[zeocit-deactivated20221112]

titan, saturn and its rings

[abyssofburningmemories]

[itshakespeare]

We do not want merely to see beauty… we want something else which can hardly be put into words- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory. (via itshakespeare)

[cslewisthoughts]

When I attempted… to describe our spiritual longings, I was omitting one of their most curious characteristics. We usually notice it just as the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends, or as the landscape loses the celestial light…You know what I mean. For a few minutes we have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it is no such thing. We have been mere spectators. Beauty has smiled, but not to welcome us; her face was turned in our direction, but not to see us. We have not been accepted, welcomed, or taken into the dance. We may go when we please, we may stay if we can. ‘Nobody marks us.’ A scientist may reply that since most of the things we call beautiful are inanimate, it is not very surprising that they take no notice of us. That, of course, is true. It is not the physical objects that I am speaking of, but that indescribable something of which they become for a moment the messengers. And part of the bitterness which mixes with the sweetness of that message is due to the fact that it so seldom seems to be a message intended for us, but rather something we have overheard. By bitterness I mean pain, not resentment. We should hardly dare to ask that any notice be taken of ourselves. But we pine. The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret. And surely, from this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory means good report with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgement, and welcome into the heart of things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last.

The Weight Of Glory

[apenitentialprayer]

Do what they will, then, we remain conscious of a desire which no natural happiness will satisfy. But is there any reason to suppose that reality offers any satisfaction to it? “Nor does the being hungry prove that we have bread.” But I think it may be urged that this misses the point. A man’s physical hunger does not prove that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man’s hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist. In the same way, though I do not believe (I wish it did) that my desire for Paradise proves that I shall enjoy it, I think it a pretty good indication that such a thing exists and that some men will.

C.S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory” (pages 32-33 of the essays collected by Walter Hooper)

[wisdomfish]

In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory (via wisdomfish)