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rare books, illustration, manuscripts, ephemera, book arts; literature, bookstores, libraries; new york city and brooklyn history; vintage women & feminism; whatever else catches my fancy. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-27219832-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();

[nevver]

Devotion, Lucy Hardie

[antigonick]

IPHIGENIA : we are women, as a species devoted to one another, staunch in defending our common interests.

Euripides, Iphigenia Among the Taurians (tr. by Anne Carson)

[magictransistor]

28. All Cloudy, except One Large Opening, with Others Smaller, the Clouds Lighter than the Plain Part, and Darker at the Top than the Bottom. The Tint Twice in the Openings, and Once in the Clouds, n.d.

Alexander Cozens.

[mytacist]

#clouds #1700s #etchings #art #allcloudy #alexandercozens #tate

[mytacist]

Levensperspectief: a Dutch word that refers to the sense that there is something to live for.

[proustitute]

There should be a writing of non-writing. Someday it will come.

Marguerite Duras, Writing, trans. Mark Polizzotti (via proustitute)

[sharontates]

Yvonne De Carlo, 1952

[mytacist]

It is not just Mowgli who was raised by a couple of wolves; any child is raised by a couple of grown-ups.

From "An Unread Book," Randall Jarrell's 1965 introduction to Christina Stead's The Man who Loved Children, a family novel unlike any other.

[theparisreview]

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ―Sylvia Plath

[mytacist]

A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables.

Gertrude Stein, from Wars I Have Seen, 1945.

[mytacist]

Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience.

From Charles Yu's How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe.

[filmsploitation]

[mytacist]

Lumière Brothers - The Serpentine Dance (c.1899)

Filmed in black and white, and then hand coloured (probably with little paint brushes) each frame of the film. You can see the full movie here.

[mytacist]

I was a terrible believer in things, but I was also a terrible nonbeliever in things. I was as searching as I was skeptical. I didn't know where to put my faith, or if there was such a place, or even precisely what the word faith meant, in all of its complexity. Everything seemed to be possibly potent and possibly fake.

Cheryl Strayed, in her memoir Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail.

[fuckyeahvirginiawoolf-blog]

Happiness is in the quiet, ordinary things. A table, a chair, a book with a paper-knife stuck between the pages. And the petal falling from the rose, and the light flickering as we sit silent.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)

[mytacist]

Blitz Wedding, 1941 | Retronaut

[readandbreathe]

“I must not forget, I thought, that I have been happy, that I am being happier than one can be. But I forgot, I’ve always forgotten.” —from NEAR TO THE WILD HEART by Clarice Lispector

[mytacist]

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain.

Love letter by Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf, January 21st, 1927.

[kateoplis]

Into the dark: A history of night photography, Alvin Langdon Coburn, Broadway, 1910