Art Nouveau Tattoos
artnouveauanddeco: Not my pictures, obv.
Art Deco project by Jan Schreiner
The aim of life is self-development. To realise one’s nature perfectly; that is...– Oscar Wilde, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’. (via venuschild)
There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one...– The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Sir Oscar Wilde My God, this is breath taking. Many people had warned me that Wilde’s only novel was not even really worth the read, but I am happy that I gave it a shot if only for this paragraph. Such imagery. I’m awestruck… and to think that most of us can’t even be...
Realize your youth while you have it. […] Live! Live the wonderful life that is...– The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde (via laviennotes)
If capital is privately controlled, then people are going to have to rent...– Noam Chomsky (via climbingmtlyell) *sitting in office while he reblogs this* (via sneak046)
laurdione: Sweet portrait of me Sasha Cuha did of me as a face study ^_^o I look so pretty!
Fantazius Mallare and the Kingdom of Evil →
laurdione: Brawl/Twilight Princess version of Link - Fanart for Supanova 11
Sharing Poetry: Li Po, "The River-Merchant's Wife" →
sharingpoetry: While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead I played about the front gate, pulling flowers. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse, You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums. And we went on living in the village of Chokan: Two small people, without dislike or…
The pleasant company of strangers lasts only a moment. History will pass the torch of Now to Never unless we steal the flame. She wore her name like an ill-fitted garment. and tried to impress, without need for undress. Never will she confess. She bears the brunt of childbirth and causes love to spring amidst chaos and revenge while little men line their pockets with our freedom. ...
Pass yourself through moving rooms, long past the illusion of then. The now and the never are the fuel for birds upon a wire without a sire. We will be free then; You and I In dreaming our ideals of right and wrong in the fires of Olympus when the chimes toll for each of us. Burn through the churchhouse gate! Burn into the night! Without leaving this moving room.
A Feast of Fools
The animals are ripe today writhing at the feeding ground which we all share in transience. Their mouths a feast of flesh their minds a bouquet of death. The serfs are kings in this ancient fable All aloft their mighty throne made of the emperors silk (from which he tailored the finest garments) and drunk on foolscap. This history is etched deep in cowards flesh, as they binge A...
She commits a subtle murder with love, her weapon. A feast of fear to fill the hungry heart and set her ghosts at bay. The ghosts of the forests and the phantoms of the land come here to drown, and be set free. How do your vineyards flower? Are your soils tilled and are they watered by freedom? Your death is free-roaming in slavery. A justice served for this subtle murder.
The Endless Night.
The endless night stretches its arms wide and long to the edges of twilight. The air is soft and fulfilled with the scents of earth and mystery as above us all, the stars burn with subtle intensity and hellfire. Like the Ghosts of ancient Gods; kept alive by waning thoughts in their prisons strong as eggshells and high as romance. The cool longing rides the breeze of time. It feels like freedom is...
ultimate-exposure: No one’s life should be rooted in fear. We are born for wonder, for joy, for hope, for love, to marvel at the mystery of existence, to be ravished by the beauty of the world, to seek truth and meaning, to acquire wisdom, and by our treatment of others to brighten the corner where we are.
Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was...– The Patriot, Pearl S. Buck (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)