“…Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,
That if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again, and then in dreaming
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.”
— William Shakespeare - The Tempest (via draven1683)
4:42 pm • 20 May 2013 • 7 notes
sullenmoons:
Mermaids at Play - Arnold Bocklin, 1886
(via qock)
6:30 am • 20 May 2013 • 228 notes
I don’t want to be one of those troubled people that look past the fog to see what’s around them. I am wholly aware of my surroundings, of their beauty, advantages, and uniqueness. But the blues come even in Italy and this morning I found myself sitting in the car outside the gym for 45 minutes with the music on and curled up in a ball. It struck me like an arrow as I pulled into the parking spot: I wanted to be held. Touched. Petted. Coddled. Drawn into a warm embrace.
6:46 am • 18 May 2013
I never feel quite so alive as when it rains. When it rains, certainly, and when I am in Italy.
4:19 am • 16 May 2013
Courting, Richard Müller, Jugend magazine, 1914.
Via.
(via translucentmind)
4:32 am • 13 May 2013 • 495 notes
Edward Hughes - Juliette Gordon Low (1887) - Detail
(Source: c0ssette, via qock)
2:33 pm • 8 May 2013 • 5,135 notes