I Love Dead Poets Society So Much, I Wish Gay People Were Real.

“When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. he sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamppost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it. When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *academical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on. But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it. And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.”

— Brenda Ueland, from “If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit”

listen all i'm saying is if the villain au reader studied execution methods through history while they were still in their world the acolytes are fuuuuuuuuucked

very lovely thought <3333

there are so many brutal torture methods, much too graphic for me to want to write them out...

but one that's non-brutal that I never forgot was where they constantly drip a single drop of water on someone's forehead (like where the third eye is?)

just thinking about it makes me feel crazy, it'd drive someone (reader's acolytes) insane <3

—Mahmoud Darwish, from To a Young Poet

Permanent Style

“When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.”

— Jodi Picoult, Handle with care (via thelovejournals)

The Middle

I wrote and illustrated this story as a birthday present for my partner, I hope you enjoy it!

tag urself i’m lord B Y E ron

Box with my photographs and poetry.

Armand Doré (French, 1824-1882) - Der kleine Liebling (1860)