oh no, not a selfie!

oh no, not a selfie!

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A poem has secrets that the poet knows nothing of.

Stanley Kunitz (via theparisreview)

(via mythologyofblue)

nevver:

What we’re reading

nevver:

What we’re reading

(via tristealven)

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…a library whose shelf arrangement and physical environment encourage browsing is one of the simple pleasures of civilization.

—Jennifer Rowley & Richard Hartley, Organizing Knowledge: an Introduction to Managing Access to Information

Jeanne spoke her mother’s name for the first time, and wept with the father as they both worshipped life.

—Marguerite Duras, Sunmer Rain

realityayslum:

Josef Breitenbach
Paris, inondation, Ile St. Louis, 1933-1939

realityayslum:

Josef Breitenbach

Paris, inondation, Ile St. Louis, 1933-1939

bensack:

Fell victim to megalomania today

If I was bound for hell let it be hell. No more false heavens. No more damned magic. You hate me and I hate you. We’ll see who hates best.

The Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via calumniae)

high-peaks:

Collage, 8”x10”
This one came together quickly. It’s made entirely of scraps torn from my last piece. 

high-peaks:

Collage, 8”x10”

This one came together quickly. It’s made entirely of scraps torn from my last piece

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strandbooks:

Cool vintage book cover, The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf

strandbooks:

Cool vintage book cover, The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf

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iseetheblood:

Erased de Kooning Drawing, 1953, Robert Rauschenberg 

iseetheblood:

Erased de Kooning Drawing, 1953, Robert Rauschenberg 

(via momokapu)

gallowhill:

Playing String Games series, March 2010, Antwerp (via)

gallowhill:

Playing String Games series, March 2010, Antwerp (via)

(via momokapu)

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artpropelled:

8578/10 (by les brumes)

artpropelled:

8578/10 (by les brumes)

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I don’t know why but these candies remind me of my grandparents’ house, there is just something so grandfatherly to the powdered sugar coating them, and today I found them again.

I don’t know why but these candies remind me of my grandparents’ house, there is just something so grandfatherly to the powdered sugar coating them, and today I found them again.

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For months—more, for years, she’d waited to meet that man on the train again. She still thought of the waiting as part of the happiness she’d had with him. That night stood out in her life as dazzling, peerless. Their love had been so great the mother still trembled at it that night in Vitry.

—Marguerite Duras, Summer Rain