emiminni

though earth and man were gone, and suns and universes ceased to be, and thou were left alone, every existence would exist in thee. there is not room for death, nor atom that might could render void: thou..thou art being and breath, and what thou art may never be destroyed

[shisasan]

Belgrade, Serbia 2018 Aleksandra Alba  IG: tanzdreamer 🜍 ⟡ ⟢

[beetlewoman]

it's all because we stopped worshipping female deities

[paper-fairy]

“Over my head in leaves grown deep, Sings the young nightingale. It only sings of love there, I hear it in my sleep.”

— Heinrich Heine, from “Our death is in the cool of night,” (tr. by A.S. Kline)

[paper-fairy]

Tomasz Jedrowski, Swimming in the Dark — Chapter 2

[heartshop]

“My body needs it—the hot baths, the care, the soft water, the perfume, the warmth. I take on the colors of the flowers, the bloom, the delicacy. It becomes me.”

— Anais Nin, Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diaries of Anais Nin 1939-47

[aka-nyontaros]

[metamorphesque]

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone.”

— Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

[petaltexturedskies]

When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”

Mary Oliver, “When I am Among The Trees” from Thirst: Poems

[philosophybits]

“I wish that life should not be cheap, but sacred. I wish the days to be as centuries, loaded, fragrant.”

— Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Conduct of Life

[ovulous-blog]

[transcendentfix]

[weepingwidar]

Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis (Lithuanian, 1875-1911) - Fairy Tale (III) (1907)

[loveletters2myself]

less artificial intelligence and more ancestral knowledge please.

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

…and twilight was tremulous green, with an enticing sadness.

– Boris Pilnyak, from “A Year of Their Life,” Mahogany and Other Stories (Ardis, 2013)

[petaltexturedskies]

in her ivory-white satin bed, among mirrors and rows of outsize bottles and perfume. Her body and face so expressive that they do not seem made of flesh but of trembling antennae, a breath, a nerve, a vibration.

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. III: 1931-1934

[petaltexturedskies]

Everything seems to have a soul—wood, stones, the wine we drink and the earth we tread on. Everything, do you hear me, absolutely everything.

Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

[coquettemeth]

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