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sophieeugenie:

New Year’s Eve 1969 in Grand Central Station

John William Waterhouse - The Soul of the Rose

Your ‘nonsense’ about Voltaire contains more good sense than all the strictures I have seen upon his works put together. Next to your own ideas, those you gave me from Mr. J. were most acceptable. I wish you would continue to give me any fugitive ideas or remarks which may occur to you in the course of your reading; and what you call your rattling way, is that of all things which pleases me the most. In short, let the way be your own, and it cannot fail to be acceptable, to please, and to amuse.

Aaron Burr to his wife Theodosia, December, 1791.

I just

(via aaronburrssexdungeon)

poeticlines:

William-Adolphe Bouguereau

L’été

This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman in 1865 (via travellerintime)

queerpotters:

does anyone else feel like they just lost their favourite uncle

©SW