Inside my head

mykindafairytalee: 5000 years by wings for lashes on Flickr.

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:25:40 +0200

5000 years by wings for lashes on Flickr.

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Fri, 24 May 2013 15:25:33 +0200

"Tread Lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow."

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:25:26 +0200

“Tread Lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.”

- Requiescat, Oscar Wilde, 1881

Wilde wrote this poem for his sister Isola, who died of meningitis aged 9.
(via mirroir)

Photo

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:34:13 +0200

"Voices in the forest tell of dark and twisted enchantments - as dark and twisted as the roots and..."

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:33:55 +0200

“Voices in the forest tell of dark and twisted enchantments - as dark and twisted as the roots and grasping branches of the trees themselves. Even the most gnarled tree is eloquent in the telling of its own tale.”

- Brian Froud (via my-dark-star)

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Wed, 22 May 2013 20:33:05 +0200

beardbriarandrose: Harry Napper, Hemlock design, 1899

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:32:05 +0200

beardbriarandrose:

Harry Napper, Hemlock design, 1899

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Tue, 21 May 2013 21:57:11 +0200

"Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they are never real. They’re..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 21:56:32 +0200

“Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they are never real. They’re never real, and I hate them because they aren’t.”

- Beth Revis, Across the Universe (via larmoyante)

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 21:53:58 +0200

"Do you ever feel that way?” “Lonely?” “Restless. As if you haven’t really met yourself yet. As is..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:34:01 +0200

“Do you ever feel that way?”
“Lonely?”
“Restless. As if you haven’t really met yourself yet. As is you’d passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - ‘Ah! There I Am! I’ve been missing that piece!’ But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it.””

- Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing (via eulum)

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:33:17 +0200

"I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind."

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:32:55 +0200

“I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.”

- Edgar Allan Poe (via hi-5ive)

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Tue, 21 May 2013 18:32:46 +0200

Nabokov’s Drawings: “The drawings of butterflies done by...

Sun, 19 May 2013 23:37:02 +0200

Nabokov’s Drawings:

“The drawings of butterflies done by Vladimir Nabokov were intended for “family use.” He made these on title pages of various editions of his works as a gift to his wife and son and sometimes to other relatives. In Brian Boyd’s words, “in these highly personal and affectionately playful drawings the scientific accuracy Nabokov needed in thousands of illustrations of the specimens he studied under the microscope was no longer relevant, and his imagination could take flight. In the butterflies Nabokov devised and labeled for Vera he mingles fact and fancy even more sportively than in his fiction.

None of these drawings portray real butterflies, both the images and the names he assigns to them are his invention. The names often have some connection to the book that the butterflies adorn and, in most cases, play on words in English and Russian is used: “Paradisia radugaleta”, “Verinia verae”, to name just a few.”

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Sun, 19 May 2013 23:36:16 +0200

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Sun, 19 May 2013 23:30:57 +0200

"I want you to crave me. From my lips, up to my words."

Sun, 19 May 2013 14:40:58 +0200

“I want you to crave me. From my lips, up to my words.”

- J.E. (via thargachnieile)

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Sun, 19 May 2013 14:40:27 +0200

transience-of-being: http://transience-of-being.tumblr.com/

Sun, 19 May 2013 14:39:33 +0200

transience-of-being:

http://transience-of-being.tumblr.com/