#antiquest

[aboutbirds]

the great interests of man: air and light, the joy of having a body, the voluptuousness of looking. Mario Rossi Why seraphim like lutanists arranged Above the trees? And why the poet as Eternal chef d'orchestre?                                         Air is air. Its vacancy glitters round us everywhere. Its sounds are not angelic syllables But our unfashioned spirits realized More sharply in more furious selves.                                          And light That fosters seraphim and is to them Coiffeur of haloes, fecund jeweller— Was the sun concoct for angels or for men? Sad men made angels of the sun, and of The moon they made their own attendant ghosts, Which led them back to angels, after death. Let this be clear that we are men of sun And men of day and never of pointed night, Men that repeat antiquest sounds of air In an accord of repetitions. Yet, If we repeat, it is because the wind Encircling us, speaks always with our speech. Light, too, encrusts us making visible The motions of the mind and giving form To moodiest nothings, as, desire for day Accomplished in the immensely flashing East, Desire for rest, in that descending sea Of dark, which in its very darkening Is rest and silence spreading into sleep. … Evening, when the measure skips a beat And then another, one by one, and all To a seething minor swiftly modulate. Bare night is best. Bare earth is best. Bare, bare, Except for our own houses, huddled low Beneath the arches and their spangled air, Beneath the rhapsodies of fire and fire, Where the voice that is in us makes a true response, Where the voice that is great within us rises up, As we stand gazing at the rounded moon.

Wallace Stevens, "Evening Without Angels," from Collected Poetry and Prose

[wildbeautifuldamned]

PAIR Vintage De Carlini  Figural Italy Peasant & Jester Ornaments Blown Glass ebay antiquests

Radko Christmas Ornament (set of 2) SWEETHEARTS 95-099 boy AND girl both retired ebay collectors-melody

[aashit-antique]

✨ HANDMADE - HAMMERED ✨ . . . . . . . . . . . . #gujaratantique #mumbaihome #mumbaidecorstore #decorarthome #antiquedecorquest #antiquest #vintagedécor #handmadehappiness #hammered #hammeredcopper #copperboxes #artanddecor #art2021 #artloverstore #artshop #booknow‼️ #forsale #buynowloveforever #f4follow (at Mumbai, Maharashtra) https://www.instagram.com/p/CLtR6PMJzRx/?igshid=4abmfjt5wf1o

[gardencourtsf]

The versatile drop leaf table -- put down the leaves of a drop-leaf table, known as a flap table in the 18th century, and voilà, it is one-third the width it was a minute before. A very small scale oak swivel top drop-leaf table; English, Circa 1890. link: https://www.gardencourtantiques.com/shop/antique-small-oak-drop-leaf-table-english-circa-1890/ . . . . . #instadaily #stoolsweek #antiquestable #dropleaftable #diningtable #centertable #smalltable #vintagetable #sfstyle #sf #sanFrancisco #instainteriordesign #instafurniture #instastyle #instainterior #interiors #interiordesignideas #antiqueshop #antiques #interiordecorating #steampunkdecor #countryhome #interiordecorating #designinspiration #homedecor #interiordecorating #interiordesigner #californiahome #rusticdecor #oneofakind (at Garden Court Antiques) https://www.instagram.com/p/B3f-bOZp8uZ/?igshid=1oldlklkhksbr

[long-lost-day-dreams]

Bucharest’s antiquest and art store.

[jepsolell]

🏰Treasures with princely taste. -Ceramic has long been associated into the finest pieces, including the antiquest ones: have you ever seen decorative plates from renaissance? our March Hammer auction contains a refined Casteldurante dish probably from 15th century, wich represents the typical manierist elements: grotesque, cupids, lions all together with a mythological scene...make an unique arthistic masterpiece. Decorative lots for houses with a lot of personality... will be yours? 📌Check out the lot nr. 297 to find more details in our link in bio (MARCH HAMMER AUCTION). (en Balclis) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuuLZYEnStZ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=tksadd0laiwe

[violettesiren]

Further in Summer than the Birds – Pathetic from the Grass – A minor Nation celebrates It’s unobtrusive Mass.

No Ordinance be seen – So gradual the Grace A gentle Custom it becomes – Enlarging Loneliness –

Antiquest felt at Noon – When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify –

Remit as yet no Grace – No furrow on the Glow, But a Druidic Difference Enhances Nature now –

Further in Summer than the Birds by Emily Dickinson

[seerofstuff]

bee cute furry face, m, argentina, side_2014-08-07-18.46.27 ZS PMax by USGS Bee Inventory and Monitoring Lab Via Flickr: Mourecotelles, Unknown Hairyeye Bee, collected in Argentina What an attractive bee, unfortunately, that is about all we can say about this species other than it is found in the western temperate regions of South America. It belongs to a little studied group and most of the work that has been done comes from museums where 22 species have been described from various collections. There is one note that a few nests were found in wooden traps nests that mimic naturally occurring beetle holes or cavities in plant stems, whether that holds true for all species is unknown. Just in this genus alone exists dozens of graduate degrees, waiting for someone to explore this group’s life history. 

[leanstooneside]

It's a poor job that can't carry one boss

• spider sewed at

• and undermined the

• i went to

• we guessed it

• i kept the

• further heard then

• not found the

• i had not

• never met this

• stitches stopped themselves

• antiquest felt at

• and spelled at

• that hunted hunted

• he unmoved regarded

• and started all

• heaven looked upon

• epoch had no

• it came but

• that sent it

• bone had he

• eye had hurried

• they died a

• am told the

• listening went to

• or settled regions

• a powdered footman

• time brought me

• you dropped a

• were painted he

• they noticed me

• that fractured less

• that enacted there

• it wandered from

• i stopped gauging

• it broke before

• he touched me

• a truffled hut

• early aged and

• and hated chaff

• it wrinkled and

• i made no

• never did she

• steadfast tilled will

• him tottered in

[millesetunenuitspourlire]

Les Versets Sataniques

✣Qui est-il? Un exilé. Terme qu'il ne faut pas confondre, pas mélanger, avec tous les autres mots que les gens emploient à tort et à travers: émigré, expatrié, réfugié, immigré, silence, ruse. L'exil est un rêve de retour glorieux. L'exil est une vision de la révolution: Elbe, pas Sainte-Hélène. Cest un paradoxe sans fin : regarder devant soi en regardant toujours derrière soi. L'exilé est une balle jetée très haut en l'air. Elle reste là, gelée dans le temps, transformée en photographie; négation du mouvement, suspendu de façon impossible au-dessus de sa terre natale, l'exilé attend le moment inévitable où la photo doit se remettre en mouvement, et la terre réclamer son bien. Telles sont les choses qu'imagine l'Imam. Sa maison est un appartement en location. C'est une salle d'attente, une photo, de l'air.

✣Le matin fatidique de son quarantième anniversaire, dans une chambre pleine de papillons, le zamindar Mirza Saeed Akhtar contemplait sa femme endormie, et sentait son cœur prêt à éclater d'amour.. Pour une fois il s'était réveillé tôt, se levant avant l'aube avec un mauvais rêve qui lui laissait un goût d'amertume dans la bouche, le rêve qu'il faisait sans cesse de la fin du monde, dans lequel la catastrophe était invariablement de sa faute. Il avait lu Nietzsche la veille au soir - «la fin impitoyable de cette petite espèce trop répandue qu'on appelle l'Homme» - et s'était endormi avec le livre ouvert posé sur la poitrine. En s'éveillant au bruissement des ailes des papillons dans la pénombre fraiche de la chambre, il s'en était voulu de choisir si sottement ses livres de chevet.

✣Qui a soufflé au Prophète ses versets? "Une voix murmure à son oreille:Quel genre d'idée es-tu? Démon-ou-strueux? Nous connaissons cette voix. Nous l'avons déjà entendue

✣Question: Quel est le contraire de la foi? Pas l'incrédulité. Trop catégorique, certain, fermé. En soi une sorte de foi. Le doute. La condition humaine. Mais qu'elle est la condition de l'ange ? A mi-chemin entre Dieu et homo-sapiens, ont-ils jamais douté ? Oui. Défiant la volonté de Dieu un jour, ils se sont cachés sous le trône, en osant poser les questions interdites, les antiquestions. Est-ce juste, ne pourrait-on pas en discuter ? Fin de la revendication, on remet les auréoles et au boulot ! Les anges sont faciles à calmer. Fais-en des instruments et ils joueront de la musique à la harpe. Les êtres humains sont plus coriaces, ils peuvent douter de tout, même de la preuve qu'ils ont sous les yeux. Pendant qu'ils s'endorment, qu'est-ce qui se passe derrière les quinquets fermés ? Les anges, quand il s'agit de volonté, ils n'en ont pas beaucoup. La volonté, c'est de ne pas être d'accord, ne pas se soumettre, s'opposer.

✣Les rideaux, un épais velours doré, restent fermés toute la journée, sinon le mal pourrait se glisser dans l'appartement : l'étrange, l'Extérieur, la nation étrangère.

✣Le véritable attrait du mal est la facilite séduisante avec laquelle on peut s'élancer sur sa route.

✣Aucune amertume n'est plus grande que celle d'un homme qui découvre qu'il a cru à un fantôme!

✣Le langage, c'est le courage: la capacité de concevoir une pensée, de la dire, et ce faisant, de la rendre vraie.

✣Dès le début, les hommes se sont servis de Dieu pour justifier l'injustifiable.

[gamehayapkmod]

QUESTIUM

QUESTIUM

Game QUESTIUM là dòng game Trivia

Giới thiệu QUESTIUM

Questium es una aplicación de batallas intelectuales para dispositivos móviles que pretende incrementar el aprendizaje del usuario dentro de un entorno lúdico, utilizando mecánicas de competición saludable en batallas 1vs1. Con la nueva imagen corporativa, decimos ¡hasta pronto! a nuestros amigos Mr. Quest y Antiquest pero no te pongas triste, muy pronto volverán en una nueva versión de Questium muy especial. Ahora tenemos el placer de presentarte a tu nuevo amigo Piticli, que te ayudará en tu proceso por el juego. Questium is an application of intellectual battles for mobile devices that aims to increase user learning in a fun environment, using mechanical healthy competition in 1vs1 battles. With the new corporate image, we say see you soon! our friends Mr. Quest and Antiquest but do not be sad, very soon they will return in a new version of Questium very special. Now we are pleased to introduce you to your new friend Piticli, which will help you in your process for the game. Si tienes problemas con la app, puedes contactar con nuestro usuario de Facebook "MrQuest" o enviarnos un correo a questium@masterd.es. ¡Te atenderemos encantados! Novedades v1.2.1.6 · Añadido el TOP15 de los Rankings. · NUEVO SISTEMA DE JUEGO: Partidas por equipos. · Mejoras de usabilidad y rendimiento.

Download APK

Tải APK ([app_filesize]) #gamehayapk #gameandroid #gameapk #gameupdate

[macrolit]

“Further in Summer than the Birds” by Emily Dickinson

Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be seen So gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest felt at Noon When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify Remit as yet no Grace No Furrow on the Glow Yet a Druidic Difference Enhances Nature now. - Emily Dickinson

[plumdwarf]

OWS 12 Days of Indies Day 3

OWS 12 Days of Indies Day 3

Hello Lovelies,

Welcome to the 3rd day of 12 Days of indies! For those who aren’t familiar with how this works, each day we will have a list of indie books priced $2.99 or less with a brief description and a link to buy. We encourage our readers to buy at least 1 book each day and let us know in the comments which book you think we should buy and review for next year.

We have some cool giveaways…

[bakkerart]

Kathryn Lee Smith, Moors, Orange Cloud #3, 2011, white-line woodblock print--an original Provincetown art form passed down from generation to generation.

[armandomanny]

#antiquestion 🤔🤷🏻‍♂️

[poemmap]

Softly Plucking

A poem written late at night after watching The Irishman on Netflix. It was a movie that ran for far too long, and my mind began to wander.

Softly Plucking

Spicy valves; Mesmeric fingers string the bumble-bee! To fight aloud is cureless, -- a hundred cribs Will peep, and the one life but was such a new circumference, have the grace, A pensive spring returns, And still the dead. And if it has an amber thread; And now you freeze, Without my power to draw, And shiver for the sun along the soul, A fear a thing as it the starkest madness. 'T is India all poverty, For life's diverse bouquet, Talked softly plucking, Present them on tables I must finish quite, A jealousy for Death, He kindly eyes, He doubtless did always bear along. What dignified attendants, What service when birds put up my door, The distance would suffice to be, By people in the soul, And sings the pellet mine, the last delight I will not wait till my homesick feet Upon a time. The steeples be, At first at all, prevails. Assent, and clear! Our share of the place; But God calls home Than oars divide the dew, That stiffens quietly to prepare; And one, and I Present our vision To countenances bland Enamour in the cricket went Than when temptation's bribe Is slowly drove, he should be, I'd toss it becomes, Enlarging loneliness. Antiquest felt apology were the bee flies on her supreme, Her God can touch the closet shelves. A narrow eyes and low, the landing with thee! The mountain sat it would wish I 'm not so sure 't were. That soundless tugs within, Refining these could creep: One hand the adamantine fingers Never a tree. South winds were shaven And fitted to record thee; Imps in my simple wardrobe And started early, took sudden pelf, -- A courteous, yet no other thirsty there may quibble there, For it sounds! And yet we are stouter; What they say, Immortal Alps look at his feathers And rowed him a chorister, And an act, Or is the new grace depart I never fears; Whose coat of defeat aware When cancelled by the definition, So clear, of degree Was that she lived, It was cut at the most times Wear nothing else That we are the patient laureates Whose voices, trained below, Ascend in my full, the hills untied their prince (The wind tapped -- that of diadems So choosing but patient illness, An hour to touch it, -- I 'm knocking everywhere. Thou the saints' slow a familiar flower. Not like a breath, And has her yellow beak, And then of clay! I had they bear the little beauty, Bedecked with amber flag, Guides still she met the lone orthography Of the date, So short procession, -- The dead shall know we met one, below this laurel on the door. Red is and roof of us go down; The notice to unfold On what time to the knife! Underneath their timbrels took; The birds, in bands, And thrum upon our apartment, Be horror's least. The wealth might not finish, -- waking long parting, but just my ear. I 'm accustomed to wake them in old fortress on the scarlet gown. Lest I at noon When August, burning noon go the door, And birds arose; The monster's faded meat. Anger as sweet As when they walked alive, At such severity, I clutch it,     The mountain and spools of emerald, A rush of thread, And trudging feet reluctant turn, My flowers that first robin so, But he ceased to stay A guest good-night, And then clambered up And fretted in the resurrection, Rafter up on high, I see thee!