Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.

Pablo Neruda, It Is Born

Photography: Waves by Robert Mapplethorpe, 1980

Also

Reblogged from frenchtwist, 818 notes, March 27, 2013

likeafieldmouse:

Bryon McClintock - Untitled (1953)

likeafieldmouse:

Bryon McClintock - Untitled (1953)

Reblogged from androphilia, 1,613 notes, March 27, 2013

Reblogged from mentalalchemy, 38,531 notes, March 27, 2013

"Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person’s face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing."

Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You (via ugh)

(Source: larmoyante)

Reblogged from mentalalchemy, 2,014 notes, March 27, 2013

"You are afraid.
If you found the perfect love
It would scald your hands,
Rip the skin from your nerves,
Cause havoc with a computered heart."

Brian Patten, “And Nothing Is Ever As You Want It To Be” (via viage)

(Source: larmoyante)

Reblogged from viage, 1,450 notes, March 27, 2013

"All art intuitively apprehends coming changes in the collective unconsciousness."

Carl Gustav Jung (via gatheringgrounds)

Reblogged from mentalalchemy, 67 notes, March 11, 2013

menstyle1:

 FOLLOW for more pictures

menstyle1:

FOLLOW for more pictures

Reblogged from misterjinks, 209 notes, March 11, 2013

"I love the silent hour of night, for blissful dreams may then arise, revealing to my charmed sight what may not bless my waking eyes."

Anne Bronte (via dotifications)

(Source: same-difference-to-me)

Reblogged from mentalalchemy, 355 notes, March 3, 2013

Reblogged from androphilia, 107 notes, March 3, 2013

"Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened."

Marguerite Duras, The Malady of Death, translation by Barbara Bray (via frenchtwist)

Reblogged from frenchtwist, 136 notes, March 3, 2013