Just living it out.

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“Grief too will make us idealists.”

Emerson.

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[towneship]

Walt Whitman 1887

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I never was attached to that great sect, Whose doctrine is, that each one should select          Out of the crowd a mistress or a friend, And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend To cold oblivion, though it is in the code Of modern morals, and the beaten road Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread,        Who travel to their home among the dead By the broad highway of the world, and so With one chained friend, perhaps a jealous foe, The dreariest and the longest journey go.

Epipsychidion

Percy Bysshe Shelley.

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Love is expression, heat, avowal, communication, and therefore a passage of energy from a potential, concentrated state to one that is liberated, radiating, caloric, and thereby endemic and degraded.

Jean Baudrillard.

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Toni Morrison on racism of all kinds.

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Alone and pensive, the deserted plain, With tardy pace and sad, I wander by; And mine eyes o'er it rove, intent to fly Where distant shores no trace of man retain; No help save this I find, some cave to gain Where never may intrude man's curious eye, Lest on my brow, a stranger long to joy, He read the secret fire which makes my pain For here, methinks, the mountain and the flood, Valley and forest the strange temper know Of my sad life conceal'd from others' sight— Yet where, where shall I find so wild a wood, A way so rough that there Love cannot go Communing with me the long day and night?

Petrarch. Sonnet XXVIII

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On Marxism (from a letter to Edmund Wilson, 15 December 1940): “Without its obscurities and abracadabra, without its pernicious reticences, shamanic incantations and magnetic trash, Marxism is not Marxism. The paradox which explodes Marxism and other dreams of the ideal state is that the first author is potentially the first tyrant of that state. . . . The individual whims of a ruler tell deeper truths about a corresponding period than the vulgar generalization of class war etc.; and the peculiar mathematical and historical howlers, in theCapital and capitaloids, are transfigured by the synthesis of Revolution into the beastly cruel stupidities it commits.” (Nabokov-Wilson Letters)

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Hey, I just got an instagram, mostly just pictures of myself, but if any of you would like to follow me it's @astricker4.

[natureunveiled]

Ary Scheffer

The Shades of Francesca da Rimini and Paolo Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil

c.1855

[ljosio]

The Book of Psalms (1912) Illustrated by Frank C Papé

Psalm 143, Verse 3

"For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down to the ground; he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead.”

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“And I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.”

Faulkner