lovers and embrace in art
henri de toulouse-lautrec, “in bed: the kiss” / joseph lorusso, “cafe lovers 4” / coldplay, “gravity” / malcolm liepke, “embrace” / egon schiele, “two women embracing” / ron hicks, “slow dance” / gustav klimt, “two lovers”
heather christle, “then we are in agreement” / malcolm t. liepke, in her arms / salman toor, green bar / maggie rogers, dog years
thinking about the quote “life is short. art is long” and how tragic it is that art lasts forever, but we don’t; how there will always be more books unread than read, more music unheard than heard, more paintings unseen than seen, and when i die, there will be countless more that i will never even have the opportunity to love and cry over and feel, because it certainly seems that there is more worth feeling in the world than time to feel it.
Gabriela Mistral, from a letter to Doris Dana c. January 1950 (translated by Velma García-Gorena)
i don’t like how endings in real life come on so suddenly without making sense, without much warning. one minute you’re in the middle of something and the next it’s all a very long time ago and you’re a different person and none of it is ever coming back
“There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realize that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realize, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps, though you can put your hand out to where things were and feel that tense, shining dullness of the space where the memories are.”
— Helen Macdonald, H is for Hawk
my writing ability currently feels on par with that of like…. a seven year old. i’m just writing one sentence. then another sentence. subject verb object, dependent clause period. do any of them relate? unclear. that is for god to decide. i certainly can’t.
smallest-feeblest-boggart
the url makes this so much funnier
october, mary oliver
taevhobi reblogged
Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”, Deaf Republic
[Text ID: “At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”]
taevhobi reblogged
6thlovelanguage-deactivated2020
Angels in America, Tony Kushner
taevhobi reblogged
Adonis, ‘I Imagine a Poet’, Selected Poems (trans. Khaled Mattawa)
[Text ID: “Is this really the world? Shall I grieve? Shall I hope? I prefer to sing.”]
taevhobi reblogged
"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." (E. Brönte)
-Wuthering Heights by Emily Brönte. Introduced by Patti Smith and illustrated by Rovina Cai (Folio Society Ed.)