“Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering.”

—   Roland Barthes (via seabois)

(via dostoievski-is-my-soulmate)


(via Pin by Karen D. Otto on Cardboard Crush & Paper Love | Pinterest)




Love foxes

They’re just so strange. (Not behemoth-depths strange, but strange nonetheless.)

I have to reblog this because spirit animal. My mother’s. It was the middle of May in the middle of the day in 1999 when we buried her. After nearly everyone left her grave side but before she was lowered I paused to stand there with my aunt and S.O. A red fox appeared in broad daylight out of nowhere in the cemetary in the middle of Tulsa, Oklahoma. It ran up to her headstone, paused and ran away. We were totally stunned. I was 29. I didn’t know she had it in her to send me something to laugh about on my worst day. Every time I see this post, these images they make me feel happy and warm inside. Like a hug from my mom. Plus fox in snow!

(via thelittlehermitage)

“Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation.
Depression is humiliating.
If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too.
Depression is humiliating.
No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.”

—    Pearl (via psych2go)

(Source: psych-facts, via psych2go)

“My reading list grows exponentially. Every time I read a book, it’ll mention three other books I feel I have to read. It’s like a particularly relentless series of pop-up ads.”

—   A.J. Jacobs (via bluestockingbookworm)

(Source: observando, via classicmaiden)


Clara Pierce Wolcott Driscoll for Tiffany Studios, Lamp with hanging head dragonfly shade on mosaic and turtleback base, made before 1906 (source).


Clara Pierce Wolcott Driscoll for Tiffany Studios, Lamp with hanging head dragonfly shade on mosaic and turtleback base, made before 1906 (source).

Women in Art.     This is beautiful.



Artist Jim Dingilian has an incredible and unconventional way of creating art. He fills glass bottles with fumes and coats their inside surfaces with soot. He then reaches in the vessel to selectively erase certain areas using brushes and cotton swabs. The results are ethereal, multi-layered landscapes made of smoke.

“Sometimes I become very quiet, for days on end, to see if anyone really notices. Few do.”

—   Unknown (via arkitextura)

(via englishmajorinrepair)