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secfromdisaster-deactivated2016

I don’t want to live a small life. Open your eyes, open your hands. I have just come from the berry fields, the sun kissing me with its golden mouth all the way (open your hands) and the wind-winged clouds following along thinking perhaps I might feed them, but no I carry these heart-shapes only to you. Look how many how small but so sweet and maybe the last gift I will ever bring to anyone in this world of hope and risk, so do. Look at me. Open your life, open your hands.

— ‘I don’t want to live a small life’ (Mary Oliver)

hepatosaurus

national poetry month, day 1

Breakage I go down to the edge of the sea. How everything shines in the morning light! The cusp of the whelk, the broken cupboard of the clam, the opened, blue mussels, moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred— and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split, dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone. It's like a schoolhouse of little words, thousands of words. First you figure out what each one means by itself, the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop full of moonlight. Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story. —Mary Oliver

florial

m0ney

Beyoncé in 2003⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

doctorcolubra

"Ten Rules," Sister Corita Kent (lettering by David Mekelburg), 1960s.

classicalcanvas

Dolce Far Niente (1897) by John William Godward

lucidloving

Joan Didion, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live // Carlos Fuentes // Tim O'Brien // Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried // Imtiaz Dharker, "Tissue" // Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind // Doctor Who (2010) // Brandon Sanderson, Yumi and the Nightmare Painter // Sing Shong, Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint // @jomeimei421