A thing of beauty
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its lovliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep … An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink. —John Keats This is a very Platonic idea of Beauty, I could’ve used it as an opener to my BA.
If you forget me
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me … ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. Pablo Neruda
We are the universe pretending to be individuals.– Deepak Chopra (via shaktilover)
Pilati leaves YSL →
End of an era, he was such a veteran
William Wordsworth, "The Sun Has Long Been Set"
sharingpoetry: The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and the trees; There’s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo’s sovereign cry Fills all the hollow of the sky. Who would go `parading’ In London, `and masquerading’, On such a night of June...
Let’s not wait for an ending.– Mikael de Lara Co, from “Poem That Had Some Difficulty With the First Line” (via ahuntersheart)
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over. And what did I see I had...– Edna St. Vincent Millay, from “Wild Swans” (via proustitute)
Though I play at the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing,...– Mary Oliver, from “Bone” (via the-final-sentence)
I saw your lips, your nakedness, the trees, that dappled light. I dreamt of...– Luke Davies, from Totem Poem (via proustitute)
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the...– e.e. cummings (via fuckyeahhappy) one of my favorites, always worth repeating
I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her. Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses. Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes. I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her. Love is brief: forgetting so long. Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms, my soul is not content to have lost her....
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white...
On mornings when I hope you forget my name, I walk through the high wet weeds...– Dean Young, from “Selected Recent and New Errors” (via proustitute)
Like most 18-year-olds, you don’t know your hole from an ass in the...– Dan Savage Haha, this guy cracks me up. Get it? Cracks?
Do not hold it against me, O speech, that I borrow weighty words, and then...– Wisława Szymborska, from “Under a Certain Little Star”, translated by Joanna Trzeciak (via the-final-sentence)
“Changes” This time in between the day and the night the light kills my sense of life so scared, turn it off, turn it off It’s dull, this dusk, this desk, this dust My eyes adjust I’ll blow out the flame Can you and me remain? Changes, never been good with change I hate it when it all stays the same caught between the gold and the game Changes, never been good...
Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.– Paulo Coelho (via elige)
TIGER, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies 5 Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 10 And when thy heart began to beat, What dread...
What is this self inside us, this silent observer, Severe and speechless...– T. S. Eliot, The Elder Statesman (via proustitute)
This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded; This...– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, from “Snow-flakes” (via the-final-sentence)