the blue hour

literature, comfort and things that linger

[thebluehourrr]

“I'll bloom, baby, bloom

Every flower needs to neighbor with the dirt

And if you knew me

You'd know that it would hurt

Feel like I won't flower in spoiled earth”

- Wolf Alice, Bloom Baby Bloom

[thebluehourrr]

Valentine Fillol Cordier photographed by Mina Azar

[thebluehourrr]

Last year is dead, they seem to say,

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

- Philip Larkin, The Trees

[thebluehourrr]

Blackwell, a house of the Arts & Crafts movement, built between 1898 and 1901, located in the Lake District, UK. Designed by architect M.H. Baillie Scott, the house includes Art Nouveau nature details and interiors curated with textiles and furnishings from Morris & Co. (Source: my photos.)

[thebluehourrr]

“Certain poems and lines of poetry seem as solid and miraculous to me as church altars or the coronation of queens must seem to people who revere quite different images. I am not worried that poems reach relatively few people. As it is, they go surprisingly far—among strangers, around the world, even. Farther than the words of a classroom teacher or the prescriptions of a doctor; if they are very lucky, farther than a lifetime.”

- Sylvia Plath, from her essay “Context”, The London Magazine, February 1962

[thebluehourrr]

Writing room study located within the tower at Sissinghurst Castle in Kent, England. The room was used by poet and novelist Vita Sackville-West to write each evening by candlelight. (Source: my photos.)

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ Florence Harrison, illustration for Christina Rossetti: Poems (1910)

via internet archive

[mhwack]

Maggie Nelson

[thebluehourrr]

“It becomes still more difficult to find

Words at once true and kind,

Or not untrue and not unkind.”

- Philip Larkin, Talking in Bed

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Sylvia Plath in Paris, 1956

[thebluehourrr]

“Why should I blame her that she filled my days

With misery, or that she would of late

Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,

Or hurled the little streets upon the great,

Had they but courage equal to desire?

What could have made her peaceful with a mind

That nobleness made simple as a fire,

With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind

That is not natural in an age like this,

Being high and solitary and most stern?

Why, what could she have done, being what she is?

Was there another Troy for her to burn?”

- W.B. Yeats, No Second Troy

[thewomanwithmissingfingers]

I have led a toothless life, he thought. A toothless life. I have never bitten into anything. I was waiting. I was reserving myself for later on - and I have just noticed that my teeth have gone.

The Age of Reason, Jean-Paul Sartre, 1945

[fredricksebastian]

Real images from The Backrooms Movie Set (30,000 Square feet Practical set) Movie is 90% Real Practical Set/10% CGI/Blender @shelbyv89

[louloumyself]

[eirene]

Proserpine, 1874

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

[thebluehourrr]

“I remember being small and I remember all the ambition

If I had kept up with the dreams would I be in this position?”

- Wolf Alice, Wednesday