*is currently very sad about beatrice baudelaire*

THE NIGHT has a thousand eyes,
 And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
 With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
 And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
 When love is done.

places to be alone

seafoamchild:

  • in a gothic cathedral
  • lying in bed, listening to summer rain
  • a hot bubble bath on a wintery day
  • a bookstore or a library
  • pine forest, neck craned upwards at trees against the sky
  • natural history museum
  • sunrise from a hilltop, with only the birds for company
  • near a crackling fireplace with a good book and a teacup
  • in the grass at sunset, watching the clouds and the butterflies
  • riding a bike down unknown roads and getting lost

lieutenant-sapphic:

shakespeare is not pretentious. fans of shakespeare are pretentious. shakespeare is twelve hundred dirty jokes strung together by increasingly ridiculous plotlines and increasingly homosexual characters. don’t let the archaic language fool you

The Last Shadow Puppets // The Time Has Come Again

Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “A Cold Breath Froze,”
(via brahmstoker)
I’ve lived on this earth as if out of place,

nymheria:

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau by Rasmus Weng Karlsen for Euroman (October 2014)

witchesgrove:

I deeply desire a Victorian glass greenhouse with all kinds of flowers and herbs, air ferns hanging from all places, and a trickling water fountain to create an atmosphere of serenity.

darkphotographs:
““Dark
” ”
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