Knowledge Carried to the Heart

[gnossienne]

“Music, When Soft Voices Die”, by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1821)

[retrofutureground]

[whatshallwesay]

Mount Wilson Observatory, M31, NGC224, Andromeda, South preceding region, 24/08/1925, United States,

Vintage silver print

[whatshallwesay]

Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet

[proustitute]

… it only takes two facing mirrors to construct a labyrinth.

Jorge Luis Borges, “Nightmares” from Seven Nights, trans. Eliot Weinberger 

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

[whatshallwesay]

Joseph Schiano Di Lombo, Les Enfants Que Le Ciel N’Aime Pas

[vjeranski]

[whatshallwesay]

Mike Mills, Humans 04, 2007

[vjeranski]

NOBUYOSHI ARAKI Untitled Cibachrome © Nobuyoshi Araki Courtesy the artist and kamel mennour, Paris

[aseaofquotes]

[whatshallwesay]

Robyn Davidson, Tracks

[whatshallwesay]

Grief

Somewhere in the Sargasso Sea the water disappears into itself, hauling an ocean in.

Vortex, how you repeat a single gesture, come round to find only

yourself, a cup full of questions, perhaps some curl of wisdom, a bit of flung salt.

You hold an absence at your center, as if it were a life.  Richard Brostoff

[whatshallwesay]

""Gimme hate, Lord,” he whimpered. “I’ll take hate any day. But don’t give me love. I can’t take no more love, Lord. I can’t carry it ... It’s too heavy. Jesus, you know, you know all about it. Ain’t it heavy? Jesus? Ain’t love heavy?""

Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon

[whatshallwesay]

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[deadpaint]

[whatshallwesay]

Albrecht Durer, Wing of a Roller.

[whatshallwesay]

Lia Melia, The Second Coming, powdered pigment and solvents baked on aluminium. 

_

_

"The Second Coming" — William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

_

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

_

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. 

_

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

[artspotting]

[whatshallwesay]

from S. A. Beach, The Apples of New York 1905

[whatshallwesay]

Zachary Mason, The Lost Books of the Odyssey

[hifas]

[whatshallwesay]

Philippe de Champaigne, Le Christ mort couché sur son linceul, 1654 (detail)

[c0ssette]

[whatshallwesay]

Maximilian Lenz, A World, 1899,detail.