/page/2

John Keats' letter to Fanny Brawne, June 1820.

“Upon my soul I have loved you to the extreme. I wish you could know the Tenderness with which I continually brood over your different aspects of countenance, action and dress. I see you come down in the morning: I see you meet me at the Window–I see every thing over again eternally that I ever have seen. If I get on the pleasant clue I live in a sort of happy misery, if on the unpleasant ’tis miserable misery(…) If I am destined to be happy with you here–how short is the longest Life–I wish to believe in immortality–I wish to live with you for ever(…) Let me be but certain that you are mine heart and soul, and I could die more happily than I could otherwise live.”

John Keats Collection, 1814-1891; MS Keats 1, Letters by John Keats. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

(Source: bookshavepores)

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall
– F. Scott Fitzgerald 

(Source: gentset, via frustratedarchaeologist)

lavandula:

kate moss by corinne day, i-D december 1993

You can’t have me yet. Not now. Not yet. 

lavandula:

kate moss by corinne day, i-D december 1993

You can’t have me yet. Not now. Not yet. 

(via bollykecks)

bollykecks:

From R.D. Laing’s ‘knots’
(speaking to me on so many levels)

bollykecks:

From R.D. Laing’s ‘knots’

(speaking to me on so many levels)

At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare
– Caitlin Moran (via artvevo)

(via thethingsimisread)

John Keats' letter to Fanny Brawne, June 1820.

“Upon my soul I have loved you to the extreme. I wish you could know the Tenderness with which I continually brood over your different aspects of countenance, action and dress. I see you come down in the morning: I see you meet me at the Window–I see every thing over again eternally that I ever have seen. If I get on the pleasant clue I live in a sort of happy misery, if on the unpleasant ’tis miserable misery(…) If I am destined to be happy with you here–how short is the longest Life–I wish to believe in immortality–I wish to live with you for ever(…) Let me be but certain that you are mine heart and soul, and I could die more happily than I could otherwise live.”

John Keats Collection, 1814-1891; MS Keats 1, Letters by John Keats. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

(Source: bookshavepores)

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall
– F. Scott Fitzgerald 

(Source: gentset, via frustratedarchaeologist)

lavandula:

kate moss by corinne day, i-D december 1993

You can’t have me yet. Not now. Not yet. 

lavandula:

kate moss by corinne day, i-D december 1993

You can’t have me yet. Not now. Not yet. 

(via bollykecks)

bollykecks:

From R.D. Laing’s ‘knots’
(speaking to me on so many levels)

bollykecks:

From R.D. Laing’s ‘knots’

(speaking to me on so many levels)

(Source: winmyheartt)

At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare
– Caitlin Moran (via artvevo)

(via thethingsimisread)

"Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall"
"At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare"

About:

Following:

-A