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Tag: nature

Ribbonized

"An artist should never be prisoner of himself, prisoner of a style, prisoner of success, etc. Did not the Goncourts write that the artists of the great age of Japanese art changed names many times during their careers? I like that; they wanted to safeguard their freedom." ~ Henri Matisse

Dusk

“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.” ― Jack Kerouac

Garden Wanderers

"His scent attracted me not from physical distance, but from eternities I'd mourned without him. No matter what the world said was appropriate, I would taste him, and remember who we were, and how to one another, we were groves of love." ~ Laura Lynn Vala

Mockingbird Milk

“When the young woman leans over the sky, about to water the flowers as well as the weeds, her white front splits open until her milk runs.” ― Gunter Grass

d r e a m. a b o u t . . .

“My airplane is quiet, and for a moment still an alien, still a stranger to the ground, I am home.” ― Richard Bach

The Glass House

“Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” ― Anton Chekhov

The Description

“In the Winter of my life I fell in love with Autumn and you. The leaves will change and fall but your love I feel is here to stay, at least for just another day.” ― Maria Koszler

The Hound

“Stop looking at my mouth.” His eyes darkened, as she saw his pupils dilate. He mouthed back, just as silently. “What if I don’t want to stop looking at your mouth?” ― Thea Harrison

Canta y No Llores

“I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.” ― Frida Kahlo

a p o t h e o s i s

"To be truly iconic, you need to be able to recognized in a silhouette." ~ Slash, Guns and Roses

W A X

“The way humans hunt for parking and the way animals hunt for food are not as different as you might think.” ― Tom Vanderbilt

I N V I S I B L E . S I L K

The most widely raised type of silkworm, the larva of the 'Bombyx mori', no longer exists anywhere in a natural state. As my encyclopedia poignantly puts it: 'The legs of the larvae have degenerated, and the adults no longer fly'. - Jeffrey Eugenides

Entering By Tiptoe

“Be the one who nurtures and builds. Be the one who has an understanding and a forgiving heart one who looks for the best in people. Leave people better than you found them.” ― Marvin J. Ashton

D A W N

“À l'aurore, armés d'une ardente patience, nous entrerons aux splendides Villes." ― Arthur Rimbaud

Steller Manna Tea

“We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.” ― William James

A Home Built With Echoes

“In the silence of the ticking of the clock’s minute hand, I found you. In the echoes of the reverberations of time, I found you. In the tender silence of the long summer night, I found you. In the fragrance of the rose petals, I found you. In the orange of the sunset, I found you. In the blue of the morning sky, I found you. In the echoes of the mountains, I found you. In the green of the valleys, I found you. In the chaos of this world, I found you. In the turbulence of the oceans, I found you. In the shrill cries of the grasshopper at night, I found you. In the gossamer sublimity of the silken cobweb, I found you.” ― Avijeet Das

The Fainting Kiss of Flight

“A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.” ― Walt Whitman

Tickling Pink

“I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.” ― Sylvia Plath