CLMR
black petals of burnt daisies
edmundcorcoran:

throat to the stars; a collection of songs for the studies of ancient greek: for the sleepless nights, the epic heroes, the lovers of plato and followers of augustus; for the drinkers of whiskey and wine; for the initiates of dionysus and the pursuers of ancient frenzies; for languid days in a rowboat, for postcards from rome; for silencing the friend who could not hold his tongue. 

it’s a very greek idea, and a very profound one. beauty is terror. whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before. and what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? to throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? euripides speaks of the maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, “more like deer than human being.”
{listen} {download}
i. greek song; rufus wainwright | ii. the role of the hero in antiquity; commander venus | iii. lakefront property; austronautalis | iv. the lost art of keeping a secret; queens of the stone age | v. a good idea at the time; ok go | vi. devil’s spoke; laura marling | vii. between the bars; elliot smith | viii. j’ai deuz amours; joséphine baker 

edmundcorcoran:

throat to the stars; a collection of songs for the studies of ancient greek: for the sleepless nights, the epic heroes, the lovers of plato and followers of augustus; for the drinkers of whiskey and wine; for the initiates of dionysus and the pursuers of ancient frenzies; for languid days in a rowboat, for postcards from rome; for silencing the friend who could not hold his tongue.

it’s a very greek idea, and a very profound one. beauty is terror. whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before. and what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? to throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? euripides speaks of the maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, “more like deer than human being.”

{listen} {download}

i. greek song; rufus wainwright | ii. the role of the hero in antiquity; commander venus | iii. lakefront property; austronautalis | iv. the lost art of keeping a secret; queens of the stone age | v. a good idea at the time; ok go | vi. devil’s spoke; laura marling | vii. between the bars; elliot smith | viii. j’ai deuz amours; joséphine baker 

posted on May 10th with 1,041 notes

Title: Heavenfaced
Artist: The National
Album: Trouble Will Find Me
Plays: 606

THE NATIONAL | Heavenfaced

I could walk out, but I won’t
In my mind I am in your arm
I wish someone would take my place
Can’t face heaven all heavenfaced

posted on May 10th with 168 notes
filed under: audio

donnawatsonart:

Rice Boy Sleeps, Iceland

posted on May 10th with 3,421 notes
filed under: art

posted on May 10th with 7,006 notes
filed under: about me

But I always liked side-paths, little dark back-alleys behind the main road—there one finds adventures and surprises, and precious metal in the dirt.
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov  (via mirroir)
posted on May 10th with 448 notes
filed under: words

blue-voids:

Ben Cauchi - The Hermetic Seal, 2006

  1. Ball of Flames
  2. Burning Hand
posted on May 10th with 738 notes
filed under: photography

balerion:

untitled by c rocket on Flickr.

balerion:

untitled by c rocket on Flickr.

posted on May 9th with 18 notes
filed under: art


Gerhard Richter
Atlas Sheet 184, 1969

Gerhard Richter

Atlas Sheet 184, 1969

posted on May 9th with 3,711 notes
filed under: photography

He loved her in a subtle kind of way. It wasn’t the kind of love you see in movies, with swelling music and giant gestures and running through the streets to catch a departing train. It wasn’t the kind of love that Byron or Shakespeare wrote about, with flowery language and hyperbole and iambic pentameter. It was still and deep, like water that you might mistake for shallow if you just watched the surface. It was entirely his, not dependent on her own feelings for him, and it would still be there whether she, or him, or everyone else on the world disappeared. It was a subtle kind of love, but it was true.
—Jake Christie, Small Stories (via larmoyante)
posted on May 8th with 7,618 notes
filed under: words

posted on May 8th with 2,975 notes

(1 of 26) — next