Whiskers On Kittens @sandraness-blog - Tumblr Blog

just-shower-thoughts

They made a fuss to get in, then made a fuss to get out. England is the cat of Europe.

just-shower-thoughts

You could punch a random British person in the face today and there’s a 52% chance they’d deserve it.

cat-parlour

starlingheart

Foot

infernalhera

The beans are growing nicely this year.

dashbeardconfessional

the plant has a question

wasbella102

17-Year-Old Self-Taught Mexican Artist Creates Stunning Watercolors And Pencil Drawings

artsnquotes

I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.

Georgia O'Keeffe (via wnq-art)

dcanpixels

memoryslandscape-deactivated202

“Can we say that all lives, works, and deeds that matter were never anything but the undisturbed unfolding of the most banal, most fleeting, most sentimental, weakest hour in the life of the one to whom they pertain? When Proust in a well-known passage described the hour that was most his own, he did it in such a way that everyone can find it in his [or her] own existence.

We might almost call it an everyday hour; it comes with the night, a lost twittering of birds, or a breath drawn at the sill of an open window. And there is no telling what encounters would be in store for us if we were less inclined to give in to sleep. Proust did not give in to sleep. And yet—or, rather, precisely for this reason—Jean Cocteau was able to say in a beautiful essay that the intonation of Proust’s voice obeyed the laws of night and honey. By submitting to these laws he conquered the hopeless sadness within him (what he once called “l’imperfection incurable dans l’essence même du présent”*), and from the honeycombs of memory he built a house for the swarm of his thoughts.”

Walter Benjamin, from "The Image of Proust,” Illuminations (Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968)