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I'm embittered beyond measure that Neil Gaiman is, after all, just another predatory, narcissistic boomer. How I used to adore him - and how diminished he has become in my eyes.

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Tell me you never grew up in Edmonton without telling me you never grew up in Edmonton.

he touched me

like i was winter—

beautiful,

but never meant to stay.

— sasha★.

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My latest cartoon for New Scientist

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— jessica therese, from ‘a different kind of heartbreak’ (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

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Joy Sullivan, “Want", Instructions for Traveling West

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Softness, it seems, is an act of defiance - a quiet revolution.

W.B. Night

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Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, from a letter featured in The Life & Letters of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

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Coloured prefaces from The Apothecary Diaries

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You heard the man. KEEP ME WELL-FED.

can anyone find me that mesopotamian clay tablet telling you to marry a party girl because she'll bring you joy

[roramitchell]

i // am statuesque. no colour & grotesque. i am art, i tell myself. i am worthy to be looked at, especially this way. this is love. this is love. this is —

— Lahraeb Munir, from "mother medusa," published in Pigeon Publishing

[roramitchell]

Separation, W. S. Merwin

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This frog is also impressed with this one's finesse and dedication.

via indiarosecrawford

Frog Paints a Water Lily Pond 🪷🎨🐸

𝑓ₒᵣ ⲕᵢ𝑛𝑔 ₐ𝑛𝑑 𝑐ₒ𝑡𝑡ₐ𝑔ₑ

[roramitchell]

With the touch you casually welcomed I pluck stray autumn treasure reclaimed by March winds and half-hidden in hair still dark as tents of Kedar Pine boughs by my window sway in murmuring canticles you were too wise to sing While I like a blinded dove or blossoming henna still seek out the warmth of your false spring

[roramitchell]

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

[roramitchell]

David Whyte, “Self Portrait”