I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
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One Nice Bug Per Day
Xuebing Du
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@wreighe
I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
aesthetic : @wreighe !
sometimes it quiets down, but it never leaves
I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via booksqouted)
the weeknd, tears in the rain
VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN AESTHETICS: (1/?) // it was the secrets of heaven & earth that i desired to learn ; & whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature & the mysterious soul of man that occupied me , still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical , or in it highest sense , the physical secrets of the world.
learn from me, if not by my precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, & how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be his world, than HE WHO ASPIRES to become greater than his nature will allow. ( mary shelley. ) // as reinterpreted by wes.
How dangerous,” he thought, “to finally have something worth losing.
Ten word story
(via blossomfully)
I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.
Richey Edwards (via 019305 )
Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed?
( for @wreighe. art by Henrique de França )
Anish Kapoor - San Gennaro
2003
For more, follow: https://www.dylanwoodsart.tumblr.com
admonitions to a special person - anne sexton. // VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN EDITS 1/?.
It’s you. – Kamishiro Rize
principia mathematica. i have become cruel in their captivity, taunting them with questions they have yet to answer, their silence a pervasive poison, turning on me like long thin knives. i find myself praying, hands clasped together, whispering fevered nonsensical things; mostly, for hope, an end to the fear. they do not listen, and when i look at them, they turn their giant heads, creaking like the end of a millennium. ( poem source. )