....a beethoven pause...

a lingering dissolution

an ordure from beginning to end

theparisreview:

“The myth of the frail genius is attractive, even to contemporary readers, because of its quintessential Romanticism. But the truth is that Keats’s writings are grounded in real-world concerns.”
Jeffrey C. Johnson on how Keats coped with fevers.

theparisreview:

“The myth of the frail genius is attractive, even to contemporary readers, because of its quintessential Romanticism. But the truth is that Keats’s writings are grounded in real-world concerns.”

Jeffrey C. Johnson on how Keats coped with fevers.

ALLLLLLLLL YOOUUUUUUURRRRRRSS,

Babooshka

white person:

how do you say my name in your language??

http://blog.longreads.com/post/oh-the-humanities-a-reading-list-pertaining-to-the-english-major/

12 Great Articles by Lindy West

tetw:

Essential reading from one of America’s freshest voices

wattyswallstuff:

Completed: https://www.etsy.com/listing/196658890/hatters-gonna-hat-mini-cross-stitch
Pattern set: https://www.etsy.com/listing/171003249/cross-stitch-pattern-hatters-gonna-hat
mapsontheweb:

Landscapes (more or less typical)

mapsontheweb:

Landscapes (more or less typical)

(Source: reddit.com)

(Source: fuckyeahsideeyes)

theparisreview:

Praise for a Color
Yellow infers from itself papayas and their pulp,penetrable yellow.At noon: bees, sweet stinger and honey.Whole eggs and their nucleus, the ovum.This interior thing, miniscule.From the blackness of the blind viscera,hot and yellow, the miniscule speck,the luminous grain.Yellow spreads and smooths, a downpourof the pure light of its name,tropicordial.Yellow turns on, turns up the heat,a charmed flute,an oboe in Bach.Yellow engenders.
—Adélia Prado. Art: Helen Frankenthaler.

theparisreview:

Praise for a Color

Yellow infers from itself papayas and their pulp,
penetrable yellow.
At noon: bees, sweet stinger and honey.
Whole eggs and their nucleus, the ovum.
This interior thing, miniscule.
From the blackness of the blind viscera,
hot and yellow, the miniscule speck,
the luminous grain.
Yellow spreads and smooths, a downpour
of the pure light of its name,
tropicordial.
Yellow turns on, turns up the heat,
a charmed flute,
an oboe in Bach.
Yellow engenders.

Adélia Prado. Art: Helen Frankenthaler.

ted:

Comedian and journalist Stella Young is tired of people telling her she’s an “inspiration” just for getting up in the morning. In a hilarious, hard-hitting, and thought-provoking talk at TEDxSydney, she explains why.   

Watch the full talk here»

(via stophatingyourbody)

Relic

I found this jawbone at the sea’s edge:
There, crabs, dogfish, broken by the breakers or tossed
To flap for half an hour and turn to a crust
Continue the beginning. The deeps are cold:
In that darkness camaraderie does not hold.

Nothing touches but, clutching, devours. And the jaws,
Before they are satisfied or their stretched purpose
Slacken, go down jaws; go gnawn bare. Jaws
Eat and are finished and the jawbone comes to the beach:
This is the sea’s achievement; with shells,
Verterbrae, claws, carapaces, skulls.

Time in the sea eats its tail, thrives, casts these
Indigestibles, the spars of purposes
That failed far from the surface. None grow rich
In the sea. This curved jawbone did not laugh
But gripped, gripped and is now a cenotaph.

"Last Letter" by Ted Hughes

What happened that night? Your final night.
Double, treble exposure
Over everything. Late afternoon, Friday,
My last sight of you alive.
Burning your letter to me, in the ashtray,
With that strange smile. Had I bungled your plan?
Had it surprised me sooner than you purposed?
Had I rushed it…

(Source: omnia-est-vanitas)