High Priestness

Confess at your leisure.

[pridefulsuggestion]

aren’t you tired of not being seen?

[luthienne]

Richard Hugo, Essay on Poetic Theory: The Triggering Town

[poblacht-na-n-oibrithe]

Not to be virtuous on main, but terror is the steel that glistens in the hands of the heroes of liberty

[participationmystique]

“Called or uncalled, the gods are present”

— C.G. Jung

[reveredsuggestions]

Even   from   death   comes   blossoming   flowers .

[nightmarist]

[[ Robert Walton // Victor Frankenstein ]]

❝ My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery, without feeling the most poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated, and when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence. ❞ - Letter IV

[nightmarist]

[[ Victor Frankenstein // Elizabeth Lavenza ]]

❝ The saintly soul of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home. Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was the living spirit of love to soften and attract: I might have become sullen in my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. ❞ - Chapter I

[nightmarist]

[[ Dorian Gray // Basil Hallward ]]

❝ Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. ❞  — Basil Hallward, Chapter 9, The Picture of Dorian Gray

[nightmarist]

[[ Dorian Gray // Sibyl Vane ]]

❝ Before I knew you, acting was the one reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the other. The joy of Beatrice was my joy, and the sorrows of Cordelia were mine also. I believed in everything. The common people who acted with me seemed to me to be godlike. The painted scenes were my world. I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came – oh, my beautiful love! – and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played. ❞  — Sibyl Vane, Chapter 7, The Picture of Dorian Gray

[contaminausea]

The monster’s claws come closing round and yet you ask for more.

[reveredsuggestions]

love thyself until the day you die

even if your love is what caused you then to die.

[reveredsuggestions]

an oath is sacred

and i fear that i am not

[reveredsuggestions]

let yourself be found for once

running only does so much

[reveredsuggestions]

what must be accepted is hard to accept. 

this, too, you must accept. 

[reveredsuggestions]

my soul is yours to do with as you please

[reveredsuggestions]

There are no borders when all our stains shall bleed as one.

[reveredsuggestions]

roses are red with the blood of the first murder