nightly.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

[ltwilliammowett]

Among the waves, by Dmitriew George, 2020

[petaltexturedskies]

Rainer Maria Rilke, in a letter to Lou Andreas Salomé written c. December 1912, from Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters

[mournfulroses]

Bianca Stone, from a poem titled "Artichokes," featured in What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems

[oldpaintings]

J. Howell Russell (English, ?)

[from-a-spiders-web]

Alathea, 1895 John White Alexander

[cparti-mkiki]

portrait of the artist's son jan frans, jan cossiers (flemish, 1600-1671), ca. 1658 (fondation custodia)

[enchantedbook]

'The Lady of the Lake' by Alan Lee

[shisasan]

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[weltenwellen]

Kaveh Akbar, from “Unburnable the Cold is Flooding Our Lives", Calling a Wolf a Wolf

[illustratus]

Tempest by Ivan Aivazovsky

[diemelusine]

Portrait of Princess Alois von Liechtenstein (née Archduchess Elisabeth Amalie of Austria) (1903) by Philip de László. Schloß Vaduz.

[mournfulroses]

Margaret Atwood, from a poem titled "War Photo 2," featured in The Door: Poems

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

The day was mild, dreamy, and calm—one of those late fall days when the year, having exhausted all the colors and nuances of that season, seems to revert to the springtime pages of the calendar. The sunless sky had settled itself into colored streaks, gentle strips of cobalt, verdigris, and celadon, framed at the edges with whiteness as clear as water—the colors of April, inexpressible and long forgotten.

– Bruno Schulz, from “The Old Age Pensioner,” Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass

[therepublicofletters]

7.26.17 // Details of The Immaculate Conception by Cristobal de Villalpando at the Met.

[ofbooksandbread-deactivated2025]

'run a botanical garden? why darling, i would love to'

[detailedart]

Details: Botafogo Beach, ca. 1870, by Eduardo de Martino.

[5000letters]

“That soft animal of my body, wants to swallow you whole. Because you’re safe there, because when she opens her jaws and says your name, she is filled brimming with you. Because she can see the entire sky in you. She wants to show you that starless night, at the bottom of her stomach. The seas that live there, those hollow husks, that endless cusp of dawn. How you, inside of her, turn her into pinpricks of light. And how she loves you like a wound on her paw that leaks constellations instead of blood. She wants to eat you alive because with you, inside of her, it’s sunrise. With you, inside of her, it’s alive.”

— Azra.T., “Starless Nights”