“There had stood a great house in the centre of the gardens, where now was left only that fragment of ruin. This house had been empty for a great while; years before his—the ancient man's—birth. It was a place shunned by the people of the village, as it had been shunned by their fathers before them. There were many things said about it, and all were of evil. No one ever went near it, either by day or night. In the village it was a synonym of all that is unholy and dreadful.”
― William Hope Hodgson, The House on the Borderland
Jusepe de Ribera Maria Magdalena in Meditazione, 1623
when you try learning something completely foreign
talk dirty to me
“It’s Raining Men,” and “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor,” are about the same event, but wildly different perspectives.
John Keats in one of his love letters to Fanny Brawne, 1819