the hours of love still make shadows.

yellowmoonisgrowingcold: Odilon Redon - “Temple vitrail, assez...

Wed, 22 May 2013 12:58:50 -0400

Odilon Redon - “Temple vitrail, assez grand, des colonnes autour du vitrail indéterminé à droite en bas un ange tenant une sorte de crâne”

welcome morning

Thu, 16 May 2013 17:09:15 -0400

mmesurly:

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “hello there, Anne”
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,
dies young.

-Anne Sexton

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Sat, 04 May 2013 15:36:18 -0400

suicideblonde: Girl Holding Kitten, London, 1960 (Bruce...

Sat, 04 May 2013 15:07:09 -0400

suicideblonde:

Girl Holding Kitten, London, 1960 (Bruce Davidson)

Bruce Davidson’s Best Shot

“I found this young woman quite by accident, as I was walking the London streets. I came upon a group of teenagers, and struck up a conversation. They took me into a cave, and then some kind of huge dancehall. I think it was on an island. It was getting late, and I needed to move on the next morning, so I didn’t stay very long.

But I isolated this girl to photograph, holding that kitten, which was probably a stray she had found on the street, and carrying that bedroll wrapped around her body. There was a great deal of mystery to her. I didn’t know where she had come from, and I didn’t get her name, but there was something about that face - the hopefulness, positivity and openness to life - it was the new face of Britain.

The picture was taken with a normal 50mm lens, with a wide aperture. I used the Ilford film, called HPS - hyper-sensitive film - which I loved, although it is probably no longer made. I loved that grainy texture; she has the feeling of a statue.

I still feel close to this picture. I wonder what that young girl is doing now. She must be lurking around London someplace, or she may not be alive, you never know.” (Guardian UK, 2007)

.

"Tell me losing everything is what saved you. Tell me you finally tasted freedom. Don’t lie. I see it..."

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 17:12:11 -0400

“Tell me losing everything is what saved you.
Tell me you finally tasted freedom. Don’t lie.
I see it in your eyes. Women lie to their mothers.
Women do not know how to use their own voices
and resort to things deeper. Don’t lie to me.
Tell me you loved to destroy.

Tell me you need me. Please. You are the bones
of my spine. You are the ground beneath my feet.
You are made of deeper stuff than the earth
can give. Admit it: you are lost without the waiting.

Can you even imagine yourself in paradise?
Even the daughter of gods must know loneliness,
must sometimes want nothing more than to be
trapped in a hell of forevers. Thank me, you queen.
I’ve given you forever.
”

- Letter from Hades to Persephone, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

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Wed, 27 Mar 2013 14:50:14 -0400

"We’re each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark."

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 18:04:35 -0400

“We’re each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark.”

- Ursula Le Guin (via pakizah)

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Thu, 14 Mar 2013 12:12:33 -0400

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Tue, 05 Mar 2013 13:29:35 -0500

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Tue, 05 Feb 2013 16:22:00 -0500

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Wed, 02 Jan 2013 15:59:42 -0500

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Wed, 28 Nov 2012 09:13:58 -0500

dyinginback: You lose your virginity to a boy who knows your body better than you do. It’s early...

Fri, 02 Nov 2012 18:17:06 -0400

dyinginback:

You lose your virginity to a boy who knows your body better than you do. It’s early evening in June and bright squares of deepening light stretch and lengthen across your bedroom wall. You can hear kids playing in a yard only a few doors down. Between the dulling pain—They said it wouldn’t hurt, they said it wouldn’t hurt, they said it wouldn’t hurt—and the shuddering, you can’t get the kids out of your head. When he’s done you lay side by side, his hands skirting along the lines of drying sweat. His fingers trace the bottom of your stomach and you recoil by instinct. You hate that sensation, of someone touching your stomach, even yourself. He gets up to go before your parents return. He’s only a rake of a boy. He tasted like alkaline to you. He tasted like something thick and burning, like something that would boil your heart inside of your chest if you consumed it.

slaughterhouse90210: “He tried to keep on the right side of...

Wed, 17 Oct 2012 14:14:42 -0400

slaughterhouse90210:

“He tried to keep on the right side of power, tried to be loyal to so many things that he himself couldn’t tell which one of his selves was the authentic, if any.”
― Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss

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Mon, 08 Oct 2012 16:51:29 -0400

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Wed, 03 Oct 2012 18:01:10 -0400

24ribs: Holy fuck this made me cry

Wed, 03 Oct 2012 12:55:26 -0400

24ribs:

Holy fuck this made me cry

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Wed, 03 Oct 2012 12:19:13 -0400

feministdisney: I admire girls who are not afraid to take up more space

Sat, 25 Aug 2012 11:51:07 -0400

feministdisney:

I admire girls

who are not afraid

to take up more space

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Sun, 12 Aug 2012 06:38:19 -0400