Lonely Sniper

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Wed, 22 May 2013 13:45:08 -0400

"I wanted to be missed, like water, like bread, like air, by all other people in all other places."

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:43:20 -0400

“I wanted to be missed, like water, like bread, like air, by all other people in all other places.”

- Jean-Paul Sartre (via hellanne)

luciferror: Undergrowth with Two Figures - Vincent Van Gogh...

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:43:06 -0400

luciferror:

Undergrowth with Two Figures - Vincent Van Gogh (w/details) (finished in June 1890, about a month before his death)

awildhiddlestonappeared:

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:41:54 -0400

awildhiddlestonappeared:

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Wed, 22 May 2013 13:37:32 -0400

"We are not allowed this. We are allowed to be deeply into basketball, or Buddhism, or Star Trek, or..."

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:37:23 -0400

“We are not allowed this. We are allowed to be deeply into basketball, or Buddhism, or Star Trek, or jazz, but we are not allowed to be deeply sad. Grief is a thing that we are encouraged to “let go of,” to “move on from,” and we are told specifically how this should be done. Countless well-intentioned friends, distant family members, hospital workers, and strangers I met at parties recited the famous five stages of grief to me: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I was alarmed by how many people knew them, how deeply this single definition of the grieving process had permeated our cultural consciousness. Not only was I supposed to feel these five things, I was meant to feel them in that order and for a prescribed amount of time.”

- Cheryl Strayed (via hellanne)

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Wed, 22 May 2013 13:37:11 -0400

Claude Monet » Water Lilies

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:36:56 -0400

Claude Monet » Water Lilies

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Wed, 22 May 2013 13:29:49 -0400

"Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences...."

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:29:20 -0400

““Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences. (Roy Ascott’s phrase.) That solves a lot of problems: we don’t have to argue whether photographs are art, or whether performances are art, or whether Carl Andre’s bricks or Andrew Serranos’s piss or Little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’ are art, because we say, ‘Art is something that happens, a process, not a quality, and all sorts of things can make it happen.’ … [W]hat makes a work of art ‘good’ for you is not something that is already ‘inside’ it, but something that happens inside you — so the value of the work lies in the degree to which it can help you have the kind of experience that you call art.””

- Brian Eno (via jessiethatcher)

pleatedjeans: if i was a veterinarian

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:29:04 -0400

pleatedjeans:

if i was a veterinarian

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Wed, 22 May 2013 13:28:08 -0400

favorite artists: Claude Monet (1840-1926) “Without the water,...

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:23:06 -0400

favorite artists: Claude Monet (1840-1926)

“Without the water, the lilies cannot live, as I am without art.”
“I will paint almost blind, as Beethoven composed completely deaf.”

"When you’re young, you don’t know, but you don’t know you don’t know, so you take some chances. In..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:22:45 -0400

“When you’re young, you don’t know, but you don’t know you don’t know, so you take some chances. In your twenties and thirties you don’t know, and you know you don’t know, and that tends to freeze you; less risk taking. In your forties you know, but you don’t know you know, so you may still be a little tentative. But then, as you pass fifty, if you’ve been paying attention, you know, and you know you know. Time for some fun.”

- George Carlin (via girlstefunny)

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:21:11 -0400

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:20:48 -0400

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:20:36 -0400

"No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:20:06 -0400

“

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

”

- John Keats (via iwillburntheheartrightoutofyou)

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:17:56 -0400

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:17:34 -0400