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Untitled (Woman in Lake) by Jerry Uelsmann, 1992
themidnightmuse reblogged
“You held me underwater and asked me why I could not breathe.”
— E. Grin, toxic.
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“When you photograph people in colour you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in B&W, you photograph their souls.”
— Ted Grant
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— Simone de Beauvoir, The Woman Destroyed
[text ID: I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.]
themidnightmuse reblogged
— To Raja Rao, by Czeslaw Milosz
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— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
And not a single star in the sky shines because a person has told it to. It shines because that is what stars do. Stop asking for permission for what you were born to do.
Nikita Gill, Take a Lesson From the Stars (via meanwhilepoetry)
We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.
Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist (via unmaiden)
Anonymous asked:
Blessings and salutations, have you ever heard of the band Hotel Books or the Listener??
I have not but I will have to check them out. Do you recommend any particular songs?
themidnightmuse reblogged
the-unintended-muse-deactivated
ᵩ“So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.” ~Oscar Wilde, The Nightingale and the Rose
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coral
One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.
Jack Kerouac (via feellng)
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sarcolinedream-deactivated20181
There is a moment when everything hangs like stars. We are fragile. We are the blue-dusk. We spend our time shaking out poems. But in the naked night, we are crafting constellations, forming them into something more than tears.
— Night Shapes, Michelle Tudor
She’s something odd and uncertain, half of her was made of stars, full of death and filled with light; her other half was made of scars, full of life and filled with darkness.
VàZaki Nada (via vazakinada)
Source: vazakinada.com
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t h e . u n i n t e n d e d . m u s e | Unknown
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johnmarkgreenpoetry-deactivated
I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of the glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.
Lemony Snicket (via johnmarkgreenpoetry)