Who is shee that looketh foorth as the morning, fayre as the moone, pure as the sunne, terrible as an armie with banners!
Song of Songs 6:9
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if i look back, i am lost
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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noise dept.
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@incessant-lyricism
Who is shee that looketh foorth as the morning, fayre as the moone, pure as the sunne, terrible as an armie with banners!
Song of Songs 6:9
Costumes from Dracula (1992) by Eiko Ishioka
Adso of Melk: *asks anything*
William of Baskerville:
finally finished Umberto Eco’s ‘The Name of the Rose’ a few weeks ago and I realise now why my friends and family thought it was the most ‘me’ book out there:Â
Italy, monasteries, classicism, libraries, the 14th Century, mystery, murder...what more could you possibly want? I loved it.
you’re laughing. i showed up in cross-gartered yellow tights, and you’re laughing.
I should not have rightly discovered things celestial if I had not suspended the intellect, and mixed the thought in a subtle form with its kindred air.
Socrates, on his being in a hanging basket, in Aristophanes’ Clouds
Poems are nearer to prayers than to stories, but in poetry there is no one behind the language being prayed to. It is the language itself which has to hear and acknowledge […] In all poetry words are a presence before they are a means of communication
John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos (via soracities)
held a 200-year-old ‘ladies’ magazine’ in my hands yesterday and felt a) awe at its age and b) grateful that we don’t have to read *quite* so much patronising shit like that today
petition to take back v for vendetta from grubby fuckboys - a movie directed by two trans women and explicitly talking about the persecution of groups including political dissenters, religious minorities, and lgbtq+ individuals. this is our movie, now more than ever.
‘Those of you who have old china use it I hope. There is nothing so absurd as having good china stuck up in a cabinet merely for show while the family drink from delft; if you can’t use good old china without breaking it, you don’t deserve to have it.’
— Oscar Wilde, ‘The House Beautiful’ (1882)
Between My Country--and the others-- There is a sea-- But Flowers--negotiate between us-- As Ministry
Emily Dickinson, 1864
He that can compass me, and know my drifts, May say he hath put a girdle ’bout the world, And sounded all her quick-sands.
The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster
It was the ΤετÎλεσται of her union with Troy.
Far From the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
Perhaps some languid summer day, /Â When drowsy birds sing less and less, /Â And golden fruit is ripening to excess, /If there's not too much sun nor too much cloud, /And the warm wind is neither still nor loud / Perhaps my secret I may say, /Â Or you may guess
‘My Secret’, Christina Rossetti
Golden Lyre, rightful possession of Apollo and the violet-haired Muses...You quench even the warring thunderbolt of ever-flowing fire
Pindar, Pythian Ode 1
As Marlowe, Milton, Goethe, and every other writer who has meddled with the Devil has discovered, the chief difficulty is to prevent this sympathetic character from becoming the hero of the story.
Dorothy L. Sayers, in the foreword to The Devil To Pay (via provst)
she would like to drop the august title of the Eternal Woman, and go there as her transitory self
E. M. Forster, A Room With A View