I Was an Eagle, Laura Marling.

(via chazeatsbrains)

Notting Hill, London

(via thylionheart)

Vincent van GoghStarry Night over the Rhone (1888)

(via shakespeareandpunk)

LORDE | Glory and Gore

"Secretly you love this do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I’ll show you what that big word means

(via chazeatsbrains)

music   lorde   glory and gore   favourite   


Witches Going to Their Sabbath (1878), by Luis Ricardo Falero.  

(via clarawebbwillcutoffyourhead)

yesss   favourite   q'd   witches   lovelovelove   

(via chazeatsbrains)


by ɐlice

(via calantheandthenightingale)

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

- T. S. Eliot, from “East Coker” in The Four Quartets (via proustitute)

(via becketted)



Galliano’s salute to René Gruau, made for Dior

2011, Paris

(via hesperidaes)

favourite   fashion   dresses   


so if you haven’t sat down in a while and watched a little mix video or if youve never seen one before or even if you just stopped watching one just stop what ur doin and watch this because!!!! i just got the breath knocked out of me with how much i love them??? this has an acoustic of how ya doin, an acapella of dna, and an acoustic wings and theyre all just!! amazing. they so clearly LOVE what theyre doing, they love learning new arrangements, you can tell by the way they sing. you can hear every single individual pieces of the harmonies (pay attention to leigh-anne at the HYD breakdown, she does all of these little breathy things and you can hardly notice but they add so much to it fuck), and LOOK AT THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER WHILE THEYRE SINGING they love each other so muCH and theyre so proud of each other and!!!!! i am a mess i need a cuddle and for little mix to take over the world, not necessarily in that order okay bye

(via stahpthepayne)

That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coalbins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.

- Ray BradburyThe October Country (via bookmania)

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

- sylvia plath, lady lazarus.

(via oberon-s)


"She wants to be flowers," said Huw, “but you make her owls. Why do we destroy ourselves?"

Jesus, more hobbledehoys!

You can’t leave me alone with them, they’re all over the place like a nest of pigs!
Why can’t they all just go away?!

(via this-new-romantic-way)

The Maenads | Ursula K. Le Guin


Somewhere I read
that when they finally staggered off the mountain
into some strange town, past drunk,
hoarse, half naked, blear-eyed,
blood dried under broken nails
and across young thighs,
but still jeering and joking, still trying
to dance, lurching and yelling, but falling
dead asleep by the market stalls,
sprawled helpless, flat out, then
middle-aged women,
respectable houswives,
would come and stand nightlong in the agora
as ewes and cows in the night fields,
guarding, watching them
as their mothers
watched over them.
And no man
that fierce decorum.  

(via unrealcities)