I was not myself as I am now, as I had to become.
l-homme-que-je-suis:

"Life Imitates Art" Photographed by Brit Snapper Lacey and Painted by Alexa Meade for Details Magazine #09 2014

l-homme-que-je-suis:

"Life Imitates Art" Photographed by Brit Snapper Lacey and Painted by Alexa Meade for Details Magazine #09 2014

doublefuckflat:

musica-mundana:

the manuscripts of the masters: classical music

bach
beethoven
chopin
rachmaninoff  
rimsky-korsakov
schubert
tchaikovsky

I love this post

what was beethoven doing on his manuscript

I’m an open book. But some of the pages are stuck together.
Kelli Jae Baeli (via observando)
But I have long loved the written word, and come to see in it the power of the sleeping lion. This is my name. This is who I am. This is how I got here. In the absence of an audience, I will write down my story so that it waits like a restful beast with lungs breathing and heart beating.
Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul.
Why does even the best person hold back something from another? Why not say directly what we feel if we know that what we entrust won’t be scattered to the winds? As it is, everyone looks much tougher than he really is, as if he felt it’d be an insult to his feeling if he expressed them too readily.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from White Nights (via violentwavesofemotion)
Humans in love are terrible. You see them come hungering at one another like prehistoric wolves, you see something struggling for life in between them like a root or a soul and it flares for a moment, then they smash it.
Anne Carson, from Plainwater (via violentwavesofemotion)
I’m afraid of fear.
Alice In The Cities (1974) dir. by Wim Wenders (via violentwavesofemotion)
egonschiele-art:

Conversion, 1912
Egon Schiele

egonschiele-art:

Conversion, 1912

Egon Schiele

gustavklimt-art:

Love, 1895
Gustav Klimt

gustavklimt-art:

Love, 1895

Gustav Klimt