Tonight, as I lay smoldering
vastbluesky: Tonight, as I lay smoldering I took pen in hand and wrote of impossible things; of magic and mystery; of all the brush strokes made but not recorded; of consummation; of communion; I convulsed with secrets long whispered by the goddess to her lord, and by him to her. This I wrote, still smoldering, in ink that only could be read by your body. (I found, for the moment,...
As he held her and tasted her, and as she curved in further and further toward...– F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night (via fitzgeraldquotes)
Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees...– Max Ehrmann (via serialstranger)
I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences,...– C. S. Lewis (via chocolatenobody)
Maybe you are searching among the branches, for what only appears in the roots.– Rumi (via wordsonawhitescreen) how very, very apropos
The Story of Owl: the beginning
Deep revelations. For an anthropologist, I seem remarkably keen to essentialize and distill the unquantifiable persons of greatest import. Each creature, for me, at least, (and I beg you not to think of me as driven purely by ego) is a tapestry of qualities, traits, impressions, and beauty, and of course this tapestry is likely seen differently by each person who gazes upon it. But this is what...
My heart is a thousand years old. I am not like other people.– Charles Bukowski (via waitingforteaagain) …..oh Charles…and how you suffered in your way. Maybe all of us, old souls, suffer….
As he held her and tasted her, and as she curved in further and further toward...– F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night (via fitzgeraldquotes) Gasp! ….salty tears spring to my eyes without warning….