michelle ilana @mishellanea - Tumblr Blog

hey are you busy for the next 50 years? I’d like to sit on the porch with you and watch the sunsets

I need time and solitude. In my head there is a whole army of people asking to be let out and waiting for the word of command.

Anton Chekhov, from a diary entry written c. October 1888 featured in in "Diary" from The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov

petaltexturedskies

We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art —we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.

Anaïs Nin, In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays

petaltexturedskies

She is pure poetry walking and breathing, inside and outside of my books, so I feel I am not lying, I am not inventing, l am not far from the truth. Her eyes become immense when she asks questions. Blue, with the pupil very dark and dilated. She looks mischievous and fragile. Her voice sings, changes: low, gay, sad, heavy, trailing, dreaming.

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry written c. December 1945 from The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. IV: 1944-1947

petaltexturedskies

He was like nature, good, wild, and sometimes cruel. He had all the moods of nature: beauty, timidity, violence, and tenderness. Nature was chaos.

Anaïs Nin, from The Four-Chambered Heart

petaltexturedskies

What is poetry? Is it a mosaic of coloured stones which curiously are wrought into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught by patient labor any hue to take and glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught with storied meaning for religion's sake.

Amy Lowell, A Dome of Many Colored Glass