“Think of my Pleasure in Solitude, in comparison of my commerce with the world - there I am a child - there they do not know me not even my most intimate acquaintance - I give into their feelings as though I were refraining from irritating a little child - Some think me middling, others silly, other foolish - every one thinks he sees my weak side against my will; when in thruth it is with my will - I am content to be thought all this because I have in my own breast so graet a resource. This is one great reason why they like me so; because they can all show to advantage in a room, and eclipese from a certain tact one who is reckoned to be a good Poet - I hope I am not here playing tricks 'to make the angels weep': I think not: for I have not the least contempt for my species; and though it may sound paradoxical: my greatest elevations of Soul leave me every time more humbled - Enough of this - though in your Love for me you will not think it enough.”
― John Keats
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I don't ever know, how to hold the weight of my soul.
When letting go.
But I'm falling in my own illusion,
I don't know my way back.
~Tongue Tied, Beta Radio.
Paintings:
•Issac Levitan- In the Vicinity of the Savvino-Storozhevsky Monastery (1880)
•John William Ashton- Evening along the Seine.
•Hendrik Pieter Koekkoek- A Faggot Gatherer in the Woods.
•Paul Gustav Fischer- Street At Evening.
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