• trio of love songs //
  • i went off with my hands in my torn coat ockets; My overcoat too was becoming ideal; i travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and i was your vassal; oh what marvellous loves i dreamed of //

  • Archive
  • / Ask me anything
  • / Theme
3 ♥
thisivyhouse:
22 ♥
messico76:

(by Mathilde Roussel)
484 ♥
black and white, heavenly, idyllic, green world
9 ♥
21 ♥
theuntucked:
80 ♥

Whate’er she meant by it, bury it with me,
For since I am
Love’s martyr, it might breed idolatry,
If into other hands these relics came.
As ‘twas humility
To afford to it all that a soul can do,
So ‘tis some bravery,
That since you would have none of me, I bury some of you.

— The Funeral, John Donne
5 ♥
theuntucked:
26 ♥
thisfemaleform:

puckbox:
Extraversion by Pierre S.
128 ♥
5 ♥
19 ♥
2 ♥
hussonbookstore:

Hannah Höch, Album, c. 1933
500 ♥
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
  • Older →