tangible

dreams made flesh.

formido:

Female artists in their studios

1. Helen Frankenthaler
2. Louise Bourgeois
3. Alice Neel
4. Joan Mitchell
5. Frida Kahlo
6. Georgia O’Keeffe

(via goghst)

Lots of times I feel like I don’t belong to this place.

Jeff Buckley  (via theburnthatkeepseverything)

(Source: jeffbuckleyforever, via theburnthatkeepseverything)

(Source: boldempire, via theglossiernerd)

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.

T.S. Eliot, from The Complete Poems And Plays: 1909 - 1950 

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

chagalov:

Wally Elenbaas, Self-Portrait 1938
via NFM

chagalov:

Wally Elenbaas, Self-Portrait 1938

via NFM

(via theglossiernerd)

To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things: to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Mary Oliver, from In Blackwater Woods  

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via goghst)

Neither fear nor courage saves us.

T.S. Eliot, from Gerontion 

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.

Euripides, Medea  (via petrichour)

(Source: quotes-shape-us, via petrichour)

And all I have to tell you that I can write is that I love you.

Ernest Hemingway from a letter dated August 1965 

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh.

Regina Spektor, On The Radio.

(Source: theburnthatkeepseverything, via theburnthatkeepseverything)

maudelynn:

Walking Away in New York City,  by Stanley Kubrick c.1946
via http://reallifeiselsewhere.blogspot.com/

maudelynn:

Walking Away in New York City,  by Stanley Kubrick c.1946

via http://reallifeiselsewhere.blogspot.com/

(Source: maudelynn.tumblr.com )

maudelynn:

A Dwarf Owl  ~ photographer unknown 

maudelynn:

A Dwarf Owl  ~ photographer unknown 

It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, is already in our bloodstream. And we don’t know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can’t say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate; and later on, when it "happens" (that is, steps forth out of us to other people), we will feel related and close to it in our innermost being.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters To A Young Poet 

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)