Latest Posts by mainromanoff - Page 3
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights
Patiently waiting for hazy summer evenings
“I can’t stand it to think my life is going so fast and I’m not really living it.”
— Ernest Hemingway
There's something poetic about 'this reminds me of you'
Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me
“Lilith’s name is etymologically related to the Sumerian word ‘lil’ (wind), not to the Hebrew word ‘laylah’ (night), as was long supposed; it is also translated as wind-storm and screech owl. Among her many names: Astarte, Lamashtu, Labartu, Lillake, Lilit, Lilithu, Mahalat, Abyzu, Ailo, Ardat Lili, Broxa, Gelou, Lalla, Ptrotk, Ostara or Eostre (the Goddess of Easter lilies), Belit-Ili, Belili and Baalat (‘Divine Lady’ to the Caananites.) Though some also confuse her with Lilu, the lilu-demons were actually male. By the same token, though Lilith is frequently accused of being a child-killer, it was the lilu, not the lilitu demon, which preyed on children.”
- Deborah Grenn-Scott, Lilith’s Fire: Reclaiming Our Sacred Lifeforce
* (art: Lilith the Snake, and Eve by Yuri Klapoukh, 1963)
“Just because you can feel another person’s emotions doesn’t make you responsible for them.”
— Sarah Brooke
The Birth of Venus (2019). Version edit by @laitdecocostudio. for new Collection 2019.
‘you okay?’ nah dude i want to be mysterious and enigmatic but instead i'm weird and grotesque and i never shut up.
Norwich - England (by Omar Parada)
landscape with a blur of conquerors, richard siken
hi :) i love your blog so very much. i can’t sleep and im feeling horrifically anxious and i was wondering if you have any words that i can use to wrap myself around. anything that feels like being held ♡
Callista Buchen, “Taking Care”
Pat Schneider, “The Patience of Ordinary Things”
Kim Hye Rim
“Come, let’s stand by the window and look out / at the light on the field. / Let’s watch how / the clouds cover the the sun and almost nothing / stirs in the grass.”
Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August; “Thinking”
Heather Christle, “Then We Are in Agreement”
Holly Warburton
Ross Gay, from The Book of Delights
Jenny Slate, Little Weirds
Bernadette Mayer, from The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica
Ben McLaughlin, The Train
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Joy Harjo, from “For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet”
Some amazing book dedications:
Mothers have martyred themselves in their children’s names since the beginning of time. We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist.
What a terrible burden for children to bear—to know that they are the reason their mother stopped living. What a terrible burden for our daughters to bear—to know that if they choose to become mothers, this will be their fate, too. Because if we show them that being a martyr is the highest form of love, that is what they will become. They will feel obligated to love as well as their mothers loved, after all. They will believe they have permission to live only as fully as their mothers allowed themselves to live.
If we keep passing down the legacy of martyrdom to our daughters, with whom does it end? Which woman ever gets to live? And when does the death sentence begin? At the wedding altar? In the delivery room? Whose delivery room—our children’s or our own? When we call martyrdom love we teach our children that when love begins, life ends. This is why Jung suggested: There is no greater burden on a child than the unlived life of a parent.
—Glennon Doyle, Untamed
Details: The Angel appears to Hagar and Ishmael, 1640, by Gioacchino Assereto (Italian, 1600-1649)
Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.
- Rachel Carson
Euripides, from Medea; tr. by Oliver Taplin
﹙ Text ID: CHORUS LEADER: You would become the wretchedest of women. MEDEA: Then let it be. ﹚
I loved you to the point of ruin.
no one paints portraits of their lover’s decaying soul and moral corruption’s physical manifestation to keep their lover themself youthful anymore 😔 they don’t do it like they used to 😔
Karyl McBride, Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers
Went to see the Rodin exhibition last week. It was so quiet, it felt like it was just me in the whole building. I spent about two hours just wondering around alone in the absolute silence with these sculptures. I love these estranged shapes, anguished poses, disruptions of the expected body
For all I can really do is
Stand here
In September’s rain
Savouring...
Soaking it all in
Slipping...
And simply
Holding on to poetry
For dear life
Detail of “Primavera” by Italian Renaissance master Sandro Botticelli
(late 1470s / early 1480s)
Nature knows how to give small and big emotions.
•Claire de lune•
•Debussy•
Strolling aimlessly in a bookshop is self care
Doing any activity is always better than doing nothing.
art academia