Often she had seemed to herself to be moving among those vanished figures of old books and pictures, an invisible ghost among the living, better acquainted with them than with her own friends. She very nearly lost consciousness that she was a separate being, with a future of her own.
(via awritersruminations)
How cool are these waves? I did them using a kind of modified needle dragging technique where I drag with a super skinny striper brush instead of a needle at all. I really like the results, and I think they’re super perfect for summer! Let me know if you’d want to see a tutorial for this! They’re deceptively easy to do, and I’m not (I don’t think) saying that just because I do my nails almost daily. They really are super simple.
(via jumbleofnotes)
Art of Living.
Behing Every Great Novelist.
(via leopoldgursky)
In a thorough, delirious, and angry manner, I am incessantly letting out all my horror, my fury, my resentment, my hatred, my failure, our failure, our helplessness, all the humiliation, the mockery, the swindles, and lastly, simply all the beatings and kickings, the endless persecution. All, all of it. All that terror goes onto the paper, the blank page, which, once filled, is carefully hidden in the double ceiling of the loft, or inside dictionaries, or behind a cabinet: it is my revenge, my revenge. My triumph.
(Source: predatorywaspobserver)
It is the nature of the artist to mind excessively what is said about him. Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
Ring with hidden love messages, made in France 1830-60 (source).
(Source: aleyma, via fairytalesandfrills)
To live in solitude is to relinquish all expectations about life. The only surprise in solitude is death.
by Victor Hugo. Apparently he left behind more than 3500 drawings. I NEED TO SEE THEM ALL.
(via fairytalesandfrills)
