F r o w z y I n d u l g e n c e s

"I ain't got no culture, nothing. Dirty words, but that don't count."
Historical Indulgences / Architectural Indulgences / Decorative Indulgences / Heck Yes Americana / Fuck Yeah American Art

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pre-raphaelisme:

Oh, what’s that in the hollow… by Edward Robert Hughes, 1893.

"Maybe I am not very human - what I wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house."

- Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography (via feellng)

(Source: feellng)

bl-ossomed:

Me

"Inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are."

- Anthony Marra (via philosophicallyincorrect)

(Source: likeafieldmouse, via fletchingarrows)

"We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art—we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones."

-  Anaïs Nin, In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays (via citrusina)

(via undare)

elainamayfield:

Egon Schiele

"The processes we’re going through are two sides of the same coin, because everything ends in mystery — the scientists have theories, and the theologians have myths, and they are both the same thing, because we end up in ignorance. … We have to think about the unthinkable, which is what religion does and science does, too."

- Ray Bradbury (via simpleyogi)

"Beware the autumn people.
For some, autumn comes early, stays late, through life, where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring or revivifying summer.
For these beings, fall is the only normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.
Where do they come from? The dust.
Where do they go? The grave.
Does blood stir their veins? No, the night wind.
What ticks in their head? The worm.
What speaks through their mouth? The toad.
What sees from their eye? The snake.
What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.
They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks.
Such are the autumn people."

-
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962)

(Source: unholyheathen)

nodamncatnodamncradle:

my actual internal dialogue when clothes shopping and I briefly entertain the idea of getting something that isn’t black

(Source: onlybloodypeepshow)

"

I think I am surviving
in all the wrong ways

"

- ten word poem  (via sorrowsew)

(Source: wordscanbeenough, via modernageatomicpanda)

aand0thercur1osit1es:

Which black t-shirt should I wear today?

No, not that one. That’s the good one. I’m saving that for a special occasion. 

(via nodamncatnodamncradle)

"I take great care of myself by carefully shutting myself away"

- Vincent Van Gogh  (via natashakills)

(Source: hellray, via natashakills)

i like being complimented on my eyebrows and on my oral sex techniques 

(Source: vuls, via auroraandbloom)

"Sometimes
I stand in front of history and feel nothing.
Then, some wrecked mosaic, awkward
in the transom of a secondary church, behaves
just so, as if the artists thought of me and all
my imperfections."

- Chad Davidson, from “In Ravenna,” From the Fire Hills (Southern Illinoise University Press, 2014)

(Source: apoetreflects, via tierradentro)