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Pleure pas petite sirene...
Created on 2004-01-18 13:19:37 (#1926780), last updated 2009-11-06
3,887 comments received, 30,336 comments posted
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Bio
"Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it." -C.S. Lewis Art Herstory Art&Architecture Musicovery College Art Association Art Journal "I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls." -Anaïs Nin |
"I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware, and by the far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait." — Walt Whitman I contain multitudes Twatlight Vulvalight ONTD Rage-a-Moth Fiends "Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more." — Alfred Lord Tennyson |
"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen." — Leonardo da Vinci "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace." — Sylvia Plath "Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." — Anaïs Nin "Art is either revolution or plagiarism" — Paul Gauguin |
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