I'm no Atlas

lauren. I like pretty things and words.

[art-creature]

shyest / acrylic & gel pen in sketchbook / my instagram

[thunderstruck9]

Vladimír Kokolia (Czech, b. 1956), Big Cycle Drawings (018), 1982-85. Drawing on paper, 44 x 32 cm.

[theclassicsreader]

“What am I fit for but solitude?”

— Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

[words-and-coffee]

“You are the sun in reverse, all energy flows into you and is abolished”

— Margaret Atwood, Power Politics

[words-and-coffee]

“We wanted to become shadowless, like the sea, but the darkness that followed us shared our names.”

— Traci Brimhall, “Hysteria: A Requiem,”  from Our Lady of the Ruins

[words-and-coffee]

““I talk to God but the sky is empty.””

—  Sylvia Plath

[words-and-coffee]

My mother is a vague person, it is possible she can’t even see herself. It is possible that she trails her fingertip over a line of girls in an old photograph and can not tell herself apart.

Anne Enright, The Gathering (via words-and-coffee)

[wifiwife]

‘Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes.

Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.

The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.’

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (1982)

[words-and-coffee]

“The earth is a trembling thing. I lay at her feet and kiss her ankle. We are all trembling things.”

— Anis Mojgani, This House

[words-and-coffee]

“When I stand alone with the earth and sky, a feeling of something in me going off in every direction into the unknown of infinity means more to me than anything.”

— Georgia O’Keeffe

[words-and-coffee]

“She looked at herself and lightly thought: so young and already rusted.”

— Clarice Lispector, from The Hour of the Star (tr. Benjamin Moser)

[babymoonpoet-deactivated2020042]

“I wish the god of this place would put me in its mouth until I dissolve, until the field doesn’t end and I am broken down like a rifle”

— Matt Rasmussen, from “A Horse Grazes in My Shadow,” Black Aperture (via lifeinpoetry)

[cllytemnestra]

“Ophelia in the water, heart soaked through. Completely sodden. Heart leaking all over the place. Ophelia in the water, flowers floating all around her. Flowers in her hair. Her hair floating all around her. Ophelia in the water, finally breathing again.”

— R. Wright; Ophelia

[art-creature]

some sweet textures and pearlescent ink / my instagram

[womansart]

‘Spring Ritual’ Embroidery by Turkish textile artist Irem Yazici

  #womensart

[justthishumanheart]

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

— Sylvia Plath, from The Rival

[pleasehearmedarling-deactivated]

“We grow. It hurts at first.”

Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems; “Witch Burning.”