Outstanding Photo Galleries From Grand Masters That Will Take You By Surprise- Part 1 - 50 Color Photographs Which Will Tell You Light Is Everything In Photographyboth with links out from photos to the photographers' sites
Mary who mattered to me, gone or asleepMary Szybist
among fruits, spilled
in ash, in dust, I did not
leave you. Even now I can't keep from
composing you, limbs & blue cloak
& soft hands. I sleep to the sound
of your name...
I think it’s a myth that the creative inspiration is locked up inside the person and just needs a quiet space and the right “serious” (brooding) moment to get released. I think art is much more about an engagement with the world, a way of being called upon and recognizing that the world is speaking to you. Which isn’t quite solitude, even if you’re alone when it happens.Rachel Kushner Guernica
Chineasy: A bright and engaging illustrated methodology for learning Chinese through fun and whimsical illustrations.
via Brindille
it will feed you, it will ravish you. It will not keep you alive
an aspidoceleon, literally, a shield turtle
Lil Wayne's Lollipop
coming through from
Phil and Don Everly's Cathy's Clown
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The music's alive
An Answer to Suffering:
Rat does not become a GodHitherby by Jenna Katerin Moran best!
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Ragnarok
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What is Hitherby Dragons?
“archy and mehitabel,” meanwhile, has never gone out of print since it first appeared, 84 years ago
Miss Mara, mistress of the high wire
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Miss Mara at Circopedia
to Louise Norcross from Emily Dickinson:
I want so much to see you, and ask you what it means, and why this young life's sacrifice should come so soon, and not far off. I wake in the morning saying "Myra, no more Myra in this world," and the thought of that young face in the dark, makes the whole so sorrowful, I cover my face with the blanket, so the robins' singing cannot get through - I had rather not hear it. Was Myra willing to leave us all? I want so much to know if it was hard, husband and babies and big life and sweet home by the sea. I should think she would rather have stayed... She came to see us first in May. I remember her frock, and how prettily she fixed her hair, and she and Vinnie took long walks, and got home to tea at sundown; and now remembering is all there is, and not more Myra. I wish 'twas plainer, Loo, the anguish in this world. I wish one could be sure the suffering had a loving side. The thought to look down some day, and see the crooked steps we came, from a safer place, must be a precious thing...letters from dickinson to frances and louise norcross
Thank you David Bowie
As if the landscape isn’t alien enough, an entire island of giant cacti pops out in the middle of nowhere
