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You, Beloved,… are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from “[You who never arrived] in Selected Poems, trans. Stephen Mitchell (via proustitute)

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The Colour of Pomegranates,1968

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1942, New York– Original caption: And it’s off to work goes Salvador Dali. His method of going to work is not that of the ordinary mortal. He lies on a perfumed couch in his studio with a handful of pencils. Perfume is then dropped on his eyelids to influence the character of his dreams, for dreams are the stuff of which surrealism is made. (via)

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Letter from Franz Kafka to his fiancée, Felice Bauer, postmarked 9 August 1916

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That isn’t an empty blank where I began…

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Emily Fowler, early 1850 (via proustitute)

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Emily Dickinson, from The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson’s Envelope Poems "In this short Life that only [merely] lasts an hour How much—how little—is within our power.”

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And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.

George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (via proustitute)

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I have rarely desired an end to my desires.

Kathleen Graber, from “Book Nine" of The Eternal City (via proustitute)

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Formerly, when I would feel a desire to understand someone, or myself, I would take into consideration not actions, in which everything is relative, but wishes. Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you who you are.

Anton Chekhov (via aestheticintrovert)

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untitled by João Travessa on Flickr.

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Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It’s contrast.

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Paintings in Detail: Hands, part I

Requested by quintaesencias and delphes

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Masaccio, Holy Trinity, with the Virgin and St. John, and donors (detail), 1425

Text reads: “What you are now I once was, what I am now you will be.”