Crepuscular Latitudes

"Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."

phototoartguy:

The adorable and unlikely friendship between a fox and a dog that’s being turned into a children’s fairytale book

Photographer Torgeir Berge

(via -5280)

“As I grow older, I pay less attention to what people say. I just watch what they do.”

—   Andrew Carnegie (via elfychronicles)

(Source: quotediary, via -5280)

“Introverts are collectors of thoughts, and solitude is where the collection is curated and rearranged to make sense of the present and future.”

—   Laurie Helgoe  (via pureblyss)

(Source: creatingaquietmind, via hopingmachine)

jonnyskov:

Hiraeth from Welsh. Sometimes I feel like English could use a few extra words…

jonnyskov:

Hiraeth from Welsh. Sometimes I feel like English could use a few extra words…

(Source: theremina, via hopingmachine)

“With clenched teeth and in front of your eyes which I see even in broad daylight, I can bear anything: Distance, anguish, worry, lack of letters. I can bear anything with you in my heart, and if I once wrote that the days without your letters were terrible, then it was not correct, they were only terribly heavy, the ship was heavy, its draught was terribly deep, nevertheless it still sailed on your side.”

—   Franz Kafka, from Letters To Milena (Schocken, 1990)

(Source: fables-of-the-reconstruction, via apoetreflects)

thefrontrange:

:’)

(Source: wonderous-world)

meanmisterdharma:

Zen

“and those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music”

—   nietzsche
nevver:

You can’t get there from here

“For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.”

—   T.S. Eliot (The Dry Salvages, 1940)

(Source: , via hopingmachine)