Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Nature, books and men. Christian, NYC, 26

[mascdot]

[hotbriefshairy]

[r2--d2]

Trees by (David Thyberg)

[pocula-blog]

[ilprimodiunmilionedibaci]

[unreadable]

[umrzec]

[sixpenceee]

The small details: In the forearms there is one very small muscle that contracts only when lifting the pinky, otherwise it is invisible. Michelangelo’s Moses is lifting the pinky, therefore that tiny muscle is contracted - a small part of the many details of this masterpiece 

Source

[sorryforbeingaslutok]

[fifineller]

by Daniel Ernst

[vamonoslejos]

“Because, you fool, he doesn’t realize how you are transmuting him in your mind into a strong, brilliant man who desires you mentally and physically. And being as he will continue quite unaware of his role in your mind, you cannot expect him to fill that role in life. You must not let yourself be disappointed. Remember, you consider “love” the most intricate and complex word; and among its manifold meanings is that of vulnerability arising from shared weaknesses. There is a time for everything; and you must beware your predilection for green apples. They may be sweet and tart and new and early, but it’s about time you learn to wait for the season of harvest. Take it slow, please. He is to be no engine for your ecstasy. Not yet, anyway.”

— Sylvia Plath, “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”

[vamonoslejos]

“Think. You can. You must, moreover, not continually run away while asleep—forget details—ignore problems—shut walls up between you and the world and all the gay bright girls—please, think—snap out of this. Believe in some beneficient force beyond your own limited self. God, god, god: Where are you? I want you, need you: the belief in you and love and mankind. You must not seek escape like this. You must think.”

— Sylvia Plath, “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”

The last journal entry before her suicide attempt on August 24, 1953.

[vamonoslejos]

“I think this book ricochets between the feminine burbling I hate and the posed cynicism I would shun. One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering. I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.”

— Sylvia Plath, “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”

[vamonoslejos]

“Love is a desperate artifice to take the place of those two original parents who turned out not to be omnisciently right gods, but a rather pedestrian pair of muddled suburbanites who, no matter how bumbingly they tried, never could quite understand how or why you grew up to your 21st birthday.”

— Sylvia Plath, “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”

[vamonoslejos]

“I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.”

— Sylvia Plath, “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”

[vamonoslejos]

“I am afraid. Of what? Life without having lived, chiefly.”

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via books-n-quotes)

[vamonoslejos]

Katie had a fierce desire for survival which made her a fighter. Johnny had a hankering after immortality which made him a useless dreamer. And that was the greatest difference between these two who loved each other so well.

“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” Betty Smith