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'Princess Cotton Grass' by John Bauer, 1915

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"selene" by Jules Louis Machard (1839–1900)

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“You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.”

— Pablo Neruda  (via mercurieux)

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Ovid, Metamorphoses 12. 210 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : "[During the battle between the Centaurs and the Lapiths of Thessaly :] Nor did his beauty ransom [the centaur] Cyllarus, fighting that day, if hybrids such as he be granted beauty. His beard was just beginning, a golden beard, and golden tresses fell down on his shoulders reaching to his flanks. High-mettled grace shone in his face; his neck, chest, shoulders, hands and every manly part seemed like a sculptor's much-praised masterpiece. Unblemished too his equine shape, nor less fine than his man's. With horse's head and neck he's make fit mount for Castor, so high stood his chest-muscles, so rideable his back. Jet black he was, the whole of him, save that his tail was white and legs were milk-white too. Many a centauress would be his mate, but one had gained his heart, [the female centaur] Hylonome. In the high woods there was none comelier of all the centaur-girls, and she alone by love and love's sweet words and winning ways held Cyllarus, yes, and the care she took to look her best (so far as that may be with limbs like that). She combed her glossy hair, and twined her curls in turn with rosemary or violets or roses, and sometimes she wore a pure white lily. Twice a day she bathed her face in the clear brook that fell from Pagasae's high forest, twice she plunged her body in its flow, nor would she wear on her left side and shoulder any skin but what became her from best-chosen beasts. Their love was equal; on the hills they roamed together, and together they would go back to their cave; and this time too they went into the Lapithae's palace side by side and side by side were fighting in the fray. A javelin (no knowing from whose hand) came from the left and wounded Cyllarus, landing below the place where the chest joins neck--slight wound, but when the point was pulled away, cold grew his damaged heart and cold his limbs. Hylonome embraced him as he died, caressed the wound and, putting lips to lips, she tried to stay his spirit as it fled. And when she saw him lifeless, she moaned words that in that uproar failed to reach my ears; and fell upon the spear that pierced her love, and, dying, held her husband in her arms."

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Artist: Chiara Bautista

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Chiara Bautista

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Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

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It truly is problematic when we align forces. Like, friend, lover, business, whatever. 🤷‍♀️

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They are both kindred aliens who crash landed to study human civilization. *winks*

here, my first post —

If you're an INFJ, then find an INTJ friend — whenever I talk to my INTJ friend, I always feel this "I swear never felt this understood, seen and light hearted!"

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my love language is being annoying and difficult and insufferable

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