“Dancing in the Dark” photographed by Carlijn Jacobs for Wonderland Magazine Spring 2017
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I can’t feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.
Franz Kafka, from Letters To Milena (via hellanne)
We are dancing in the hollow of nothingness. We are one flesh, but seperated like stars.
Henry Miller (via magrittesque)
I can’t feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.
Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (via kafkaesque-world)
I tell you: one must still have chaos in one to give birth to a dancing star.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. Thomas Common (via proustitute)
I long so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things require effort—and disappointment and perseverance.
Vincent van Gogh, September 9, 1882, to Theo van Gogh (via post-impressionisms)
Around me all colors are extinguished. It is frightening. The place of the damned must be this colorless. A glowing, fiery hell would still be beautiful! And since all that is beautiful confers happiness and blesses, a flaming hell would be no punishment—only the gray, grazy, gray which is part of the endless monotony and wilderness is the true, terrible punishment.
Egon Schiele, from Letters: Schiele In Prison (via violentwavesofemotion)
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.
Kurt Vonnegut (via daylightbasement)
Is your face a beautiful blossom
or a sweet torture?
I have no complaints
but my heart is tempted
to let you
hear of its sorrows
Rumi (via serialstranger)
I’m going to enjoy every second, and I’m going to know I’m enjoying it while I’m enjoying it. Most people don’t live; they just race. They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn’t make any difference whether they’ve reached the goal or not.
Jean Webster (via philphys)

