בחיים

♉️↑ * ♋️☼3 * ♊️☾1 she / her ; 1997

[makosirens]

[angelstills]

H2O: Just Add Water (2006-2010)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“And the questions are the sentences I cannot articulate. And the thoughts are the birds that fly away and do not return.”

— Helmut Heissenbüttel, tr. by Michael Hamburger, from “Combinations; XI,”

[dappledwithshadow]

MATISSE

[hn-yjournal]

Flowers on Burgh Island, May 2016

[batcii-archive-deactivated20210]

i was procrastinating at uni so here’s everyone’s fave estranged rich kid delinquent sirius black

[batcii-archive-deactivated20210]

the first of a couple of ghibli prints i’m gonna have at smash in sydney this july! chihiro and haku from spirited away, aka the embodiment of all my childhood animal/spirit/dragon companion fantasies 

[no-chill-at-all]

[caterpie]

From the Hayao Miyazaki Image Board artbook (1983)

[ashryvaer]

i really wanna read but i just [clenches fist] don’t

[atalienart]

Last drawing of 2017. Happy New Year guys :)

[artaslanguage]

<b>Triton and Nereid [1893] ////auguste R O D I N

[craftingtheclassics]

It is a humiliating confession, but we are all of us made out of the same stuff. In Falstaff there is something of Hamlet, in Hamlet there is not a little of Falstaff. The fat knight has his moods of melancholy, and the young prince his moments of coarse humour. Where we differ from each other is purely in accidentals: in dress, manner, tone of voice, religious opinions, personal appearance, tricks of habit and the like. The more one analyses people, the more all reasons for analysis disappear. Sooner or later one comes to that dreadful universal thing called human nature.

Oscar Wilde compares two of William Shakespeare’s most famous characters, Falstaff and Hamlet, to help illustrate an underlying truth about human nature in his dialogue on The Decay of Lying, the first section of his 1891 work on aesthetic criticism simply titled Intentions. (via colonel-catastrophe)

[woolfdaily]

Virginia Woolf said that writing a novel is like walking through a dark room, holding a lantern which lights up what is already in the room anyway.

Margaret Atwood, from Negotiating with the Dead; “Introduction: Into the Labyrinth,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[lifroah]

Voldemort: The Boy who Lived... come to die

Harry: Die?😉🔥 Only quitters let death catch up!😤🏃🏻 Chosen One⚡️👐🏻 Rip Dumbledore💙😭 Keep fighting!😵 Gryffindor quidditch 🔱❤️ Captain😅😅 The Prophet is for Pussies 😤😤 Merlin #1✌🏻👐🏻 Friends💛

[luthienne]

Will you not stay with me, inside me always? I have come up from such depths to find you. To say that I love you isn’t enough. It’s more, more. Probe around inside me, unearth everything that’s in me.

Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953 (via luthienne)

[sarahseeandersen]

[tastefullyoffensive]

by Sarah Andersen