Nunc cognosco

et tenebrae eam non conprehenderunt

ancient-serpent:

Mosaics in the Church of St Saviour, Istanbul, Turkey

At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green. Upon their western sides the grass was white as with a drifted snow: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the turf.
'Look!' said Gandalf. 'How fair are the bright eyes in the grass!

At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green. Upon their western sides the grass was white as with a drifted snow: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the turf.

'Look!' said Gandalf. 'How fair are the bright eyes in the grass!

“Let me live where I will, on this side is the city, on that the wilderness, and ever I am leaving the city more and more, and withdrawing into the wilderness.”

—   Walking Henry David Thoreau
intheheatherbright:

Philip Larkin, Collected Poems (London: The Marvell Press and faber and faber, 1990).

New aesthetics:

"slub merino" or "telescopic selfie cane" 

“Darkness and light divide the course of time, and oblivion snares with memory, a great part even of our living beings; we slightly remember our felicities, and the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows destroy us or themselves. To weep into stones are fables.”

—   Hydriotaphia, Urn-Burial Sir Thomas Browne

Cy Twombly : Fifty Days at Iliam: Shades of Achilles, Patroclus and Hector (1978)
(from cytwombly.info)

And now the rosy-finger’d morn appears,           
Shows every mournful face with tears o’erspread,          
And glares on the pale visage of the dead.

Cy Twombly : Fifty Days at Iliam: Shades of Achilles, Patroclus and Hector (1978)

(from cytwombly.info)

And now the rosy-finger’d morn appears,          

Shows every mournful face with tears o’erspread,          

And glares on the pale visage of the dead.

(Source: supersuperette, via lainhidden)