#ellis nightingale

[petaltexturedskies]

The sun is warm, the air is soft, there's comfort in grey skies. Rain patters on so steadily days slip before our eyes. Now here we are—untouched—while autumn steals all that we know. Yet unlike flowers, through the seasons, we may live to grow.

Ellis Nightingale, “Autumn”

[askyea-poesy]

I'm sitting atop an old stone wall that's not as cold as you would think and I'm staring at the pink-tinged sky and the last of the sun before it sinks. The air is full with the softest chatter, it ebbs and flows like a restful sea and I can think of nothing better than wasting time so perfectly.

Ellis Nightingale

[llovelymoonn]

on november

nina maclaughlin the paris review: "on the first of november, the ghosts arrive" \\ emily dickinson in a letter to elizabeth holland (early nov, 1865) (via @flowerytale) \\ anna akhmatova rosary \\ philip jenks colony collapse metaphor: "november" \\ robert frost the complete poems: "my november guest" \\ ellis nightingale (@ellisnightingale) \\ @honeytuesday \\ nina maclaughlin the paris review: "the dark feels different in november" \\ l.m. montgomery anne of green gables \\ maggie stiefvater the scorpio races (via @metamorphesque) \\ sylvia plath the unabridged journals of sylvia plath (via @louisegluck)

kofi

[sweet-harmony]

@sweet-harmony

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

" Novembers are for softest sleep when skies are dark and grey. They do not mind the time you keep when night looks much like day. They do not mind the rain that falls so warmly down your cheek. 'Rest easy now' is what they'd say if months knew how to speak. "

- Ellis Nightingale

📷 mine

[mitskey]

— Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh)/ — Robert Frost, The Complete Poems; “My November Guest,”/ — Ellis Nightingale/ — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, or, The Modern Prometheus, chapter V. / — Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh)/ — Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait Through Letters/ — Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex/ Albert Camus , “The Plague”/ — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights/ — William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

[strokeofserenity]

Ellis Nightingale , “December”

[oldwinesoul]

“Decembers are for dreaming of all the things to come. Just turn towards the eastern sky, that's where the sun wakes from. You're at the end but what lies next is all that you will be. So close your eyes and wait for dawn. The future's yours, you'll see.”

// Ellis Nightingale