dustysparklers-blog-blog - Tumblr blog

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Each of us is an artist of our days; the greater our integrity and awareness, the more original and creative our time will become.

John O'Donohue

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You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting- over and over announcing your place In the family of things.

"Wild Geese," Mary Oliver (via commovente)

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Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.

Alain de Botton (via rabbitinthemoon)

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[dustysparklers-blog-blog]

It’s snowing (in our collection)! We hope you’re staying warm and enjoying some cozy, quality time with friends and loved ones this weekend  [Jan Staller, Stoplight (1984)]

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[dustysparklers-blog-blog]

Let it die. Let there be a new beginning. It’s awful. Goodnight.

Charles Bukowski (via rabbitinthemoon)

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paul jenkins

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Brett Weston White Sands, New Mexico 1946

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to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief...

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All you need now is to stand at the window and let your rhythmical sense open and shut, open and shut, boldly and freely, until one thing melts in another, until the taxis are dancing with the daffodils, until a whole has been made from all these separate fragments.

Virginia Woolf, A Letter To A Young Poet (via rabbitinthemoon)

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We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land. It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is: each the other’s opposite and complement.

Hermann Hesse (via troubled)

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SUBMISSION:

SketchBook 52012 spray enamel on paper

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[dustysparklers-blog-blog]

::the sound of the sea:: by untroubledheart.