that’s what she was: stardust too fragile to collect by mere human hands.
benjamin about emily, somewhere to begin; s.k (via: somewheretobeginnovel)

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that’s what she was: stardust too fragile to collect by mere human hands.
benjamin about emily, somewhere to begin; s.k (via: somewheretobeginnovel)
Nephtali [watch]
Paris Opera Ballet dancer Marion Barbeau animated by Glen Keane
You tormented a hummingbird of love between your teeth.
Federico García Lorca, tr. by Sarah Arvio, from “Unforeseen Love,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
Aya Jones for Urban Outfitters
I am a weak, ephemeral creature made of mud and dream. But I feel all the powers of the universe whirling within me.
— Nikos Kazantzakis, from The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises.
To his delight the girl he once wanted to marry before her untimely death… appeared before him. But soon she turned sad and cold because she did not belong to the mortal world.
She’s as light as any fairy; she’s as pretty as a peach; She’s mistress of the witchcraft to beguile; There’s sunshine in her manner, there is music in her speech, And there’s concentrated honey in her smile.
”The Man from Eldorado,” Robert William Service (via thymewitch)
hobbies include: eating strawberries and glowing softly
Spring manor | This Photographer’s Life, Blayne Beacham
the sublime is a suspension of disbelief
Emilia Phillips, from “Pathetic Fallacy,” published in Poem-a-Day (via lifeinpoetry)
selenalarkinrpg:
Hogwarts Express wasn’t the only thing rocketing at top speeds. Elodie, or ‘Eddie’, the girl who seemed to fly one hundred miles per hour, performed a quick and heedless curtsy before offering her hand. “Hello Eddie.” Selena smiled, playing close attention to the girl’s obvious preference. She shook her hand, not too firm yet not too rigid, her soft flesh felt warm against Selena’s glacial palm. The flower crown, as obvious as Eddie’s enthusiasm, looked freshly picked and delicately entwined itself in her curls. “The crown looks cute. Did you pick them yourself?” Selena glanced at the flowers, memories of her mother’s freshly cut blooms decorating every corner of the home ran laps in her mind; she could smell the lilies, feel the yellow pollen between her fingers. How much of a nuisance they were when they stained her clothes.
“So, I guess we should…,” Selena peered over her own shoulder, saw some of the prefects patrolling the left side of The Express. “I guess we should start with the right side then.” She clapped her hands, as a way to begin their little expedition and with her pony tail swinging from side to side, Selena began her work. “So Eddie, where are you from?”
Eddie nodded, enthusiastically, as she did most things. Her fingers hovered and fluttered along the edges of her crown, barely close enough to touch. But they did touch. She felt the petals and leaves and stems, soft against the pads of her fingers. Fresh from the morning and still wet with due, still fresh enough to not smell of sickly sweet death. Yet.
But they would smell of death, sooner or later. They had to, as all dead things must. “I did, thank you! I chose them and picked them myself.”
And she had, singing softly under her breath, legs folded beneath herself as she sat on a bed of grass, mutilated them herself too, by her own hand. But that’s not so bad. Is it ? To be made into a memorial of yourself. There are uglier ways to fall than by the hands of someone who loved you.
Eddie believes this and shares none of this. Just, for a moment, she grew distracted and then snapped back into her smile, and this time it was even larger. She followed Selena’s lead because, “Left or right, I’m sure either side is lovely.”
She fell into step with Selena and oh so subtly tried to hook her arm around Selena’s arm, so they’d walk arm in arm together. “I’m from lots of places. Madrid, originally. What about you ? ”
“I read a little, / scratch against silence slow spring afternoons.”
— Amiri Baraka, from Transbluency: The Selected Poems; “A Poem Some People Will Have to Understand,” (via phantomwidow)
You are going to break your promise. I understand. And I hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that I will not hate you.
Catherynne M, Deathless. (via phreshouttarunway)