all things are delicately interconnected

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[luthienne]

…and my whole being is aching for a green, silent spot…

Kahlil Gibran, in a letter to Mary Haskell, from Beloved Prophet: The Love Letters of Kahlil Gibran and Mary Haskell, and her private journal (via juicyaries)

[le-immorte]

I am sick of prettiness; I am sick of privacy. I ride rough waters and shall sink with no one to save me.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via oiseauperdu)

[journalofanobody]

[metaphorformetaphor]

My longing was ruby-colored. I wore it around my neck, and everything was drunkenness and dance, every day a kind of drowning—

Zeina Hashem Beck, from “I Dreamt We Threw Bread Crumbs,” Louder Than Hearts: Poems (Bauhan Pub, 2017)       (via metaphorformetaphor)

[de4dbl0g-deactivated20191110]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

The leaf. The reach. The blossom. The abandon.

Eavan Boland, from New Collected Poems: “The Woman Turns Herself Into A Fish,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[daxnorman]

Grace Jones Nightclubbing

[dsociate]

emptied for anguish

[poboh]

Figura Afligida, Eduardo Kingman. Ecuadorian (1913 - 1998)

[sect7]

[rapsodia-satanica]

Louis Janmot.

[4am-at-thewafflehouse]

[biscodeja-vu]

When a man no longer confuses himself with the definition of himself that others have given him, he is at once universal and unique. He is universal by virtue of the inseparability of his organism from the cosmos. He is unique in that he is just this organism and not any stereotype of role, class, or identity assumed for the convenience of social communication.

Allan Watts (via biscodeja-vu)

[silverscents]

BITE Magazine #4

[aestheticperversion]

sibyl buck in elle quebec march 1994 by serge barbeau

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