(Source: simplyl0st, via anchoredinrumbelle)
"A song lives in the robin whether it sings
or not. Therefore music."
or not. Therefore music."
— from “Sans Terre,” Traci Brimhall, Our Lady of the Ruins (via badwolfcomplex)
"We forsake the eastern star.
Take us by the hair.
Lead us past
the ignorant light,
past a God who threatens
to love all that we are."
Take us by the hair.
Lead us past
the ignorant light,
past a God who threatens
to love all that we are."
— from “Our Lady of the Ruins,” Traci Brimhall (via badwolfcomplex)
"It sometimes happens that my hands
grow conscious of each other, or else my weary face
takes refuge in them."
grow conscious of each other, or else my weary face
takes refuge in them."
— Rainer Maria Rilke, from Duino Elegies, trans. Edward A. Snow (via proustitute)
(via badwolfcomplex)
"I had a lovers’ quarrel with the world."
— Epitaph on Robert Frost’s grave.
"If by chance you see
him who I love the most,
tell him I am sick, I suffer, and I die."
him who I love the most,
tell him I am sick, I suffer, and I die."
— St. John of the Cross (via shortbreadsh)
(via shortbreadsh)
"O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all."
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all."
— Robert Frost, “October” (via chardonette)
(Source: wintrydarling, via badwolfcomplex)
"
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
— Touched by an Angel by Maya Angelou (via wildthicket)
(via preraphaeliteoftheforest)
"The rain to the wind said,
‘You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged—though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt."
‘You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged—though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt."
— Robert Frost, “Lodged” (via enoqi)
(Source: larmoyante, via invisible-depression)
‘who knows if the moon’s a balloon, coming out of a keen city in the sky…’
the first in a series, illustrating E.E.Cummings’ beautiful little poem.
(via djevojka)
Dear followers:
Roses are red
Tumblr is blue
You’re halfway across the world
But I still love you
(via dreamfulartist)
"When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no nonbeing can hold."
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no nonbeing can hold."
— (via seabois)
(via badwolfcomplex)
"
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?.
—
Edgar Allan Poe
(via mycolorbook)
(via art-and-dream)
