In a jasper fable, my dream
glittered all the more blue.
Shuzo Takiguchi, The Fish’s Desire
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And the heart does not die when one thinks it should,
we smile, there is tea and bread on the table. (...)
Czesław Miłosz, Elegy for N.N.
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‘The dignity of the artist lies in his duty of keeping awake the sense of wonder in the world.’
- Marc Chagall
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The dignity of the artist lies in his duty of keeping awake the sense of wonder in the world.
Marc Chagall
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n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.
Erik Satî // Gnossienne no. 1
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Nous réveiller tous les matins aussi surpris de nous trouver si bien dans le même lit,
de ne désirer rien de plus que ce si quotidien plaisir d'être ensemble,
aussi bien.
- Jamais je ne t’ai dit que je t’aimerai toujours
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A box of photographs on a blue night, Paris blue. A box of ribbons, postcards, old tickets, faces, and rose petals. "You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." - Homer https://yarazgheib.com/?p=2677 #nonutilitarian #thenonutilitarian #yarazgheib https://www.instagram.com/p/CHQUgmqF2rN/?igshid=bpmqxgp9qipd
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A post on happily ever after. I glimpsed it once, tasted it, red and perfect as a ripe tomato, fresh as basil freshly picked, somewhere in the Tuscan countryside. Somewhere on a hill. https://yarazgheib.com/?p=2735 #nonutilitarian #thenonutilitarian #yarazgheib https://www.instagram.com/p/CGpNck8FN-d/?igshid=1361lfvtdh8wg
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Like every other form of art, literature is no more and nothing less than a matter of life and death.
Mavis Gallant
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I found a secret garden. It's wonderful, so wonderful I had to take you. Come, it's on the top floor. https://yarazgheib.com/?p=2690 #yarazgheib #nonutilitarian #thenonutilitarian https://www.instagram.com/p/CFjv1AyHxRM/?igshid=1ttlycmbohe9d
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When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
- Mary Oliver, When I am Among the Trees
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The sea silently outstretched beneath the moon. Yes, it is here that I feel the right to die peacefully, here that I can say: “I was weak, yet I have done what I could.”
Albert Camus (1913-1960), from “Notebooks 1951-1959″, translated from the French by Ryan Bloom (Notebook VII, December 51)
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Air.
cinemagraph artist on instagram
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I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
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I am haunted by waters. It may be that I’m too dry in myself, too English, or it may be simply that I’m susceptible to beauty, but I do not feel truly at ease on this earth unless there’s a river nearby. “When it hurts,” wrote the Polish poet Czeslaw Miłosz, “we return to the banks of certain rivers,” and I take comfort in his words, for there’s a river I’ve returned to over and again, in sickness and in health, in grief, in desolation and in joy.
- Olivia Laing, To the River: A Journey Beneath the Surface
Lynne Cartlidge, Anemone, Bluebells and Aquilegia
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So long as that woman from the Rijksmuseum
in painted quiet and concentration
keeps pouring milk day after day
from the pitcher to the bowl
the World hasn’t earned
the world’s end.
- Wislawa Szymborska, Vermeer
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...lover of maps and Camus.
- P.L.
By: George
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