Like most sensitive souls, you already know you’re sensitive.
You soak up others’ moods and desires like a sponge. You absorb sensation the way a paintbrush grasps each color it touches on a palette. The ethereal beauty of a dandelion, the shift of a season, the climax of a song, or a certain stirring scent can evoke such wonder it’ll behave as your very breath itself- moving through cells as fuel does to fire and wind does to waves.
Victoria Erickson (via venuschild)
If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I bet they’d live a lot differently. When you look into infinity, you realize there are more important things than what people do all day.
Calvin and Hobbes (via suspend)
jesuisperdu:

blastedheath:

Charles L’Eplattenier (Swiss, 1874-1946), Matin jurassien [Jura Morning], 1942. Oil on burlap, 81 x 100 cm.

siiiiiiiiiick, fjndlskjglsdakjglskajga

jesuisperdu:

blastedheath:

Charles L’Eplattenier (Swiss, 1874-1946), Matin jurassien [Jura Morning], 1942. Oil on burlap, 81 x 100 cm.

siiiiiiiiiick, fjndlskjglsdakjglskajga

mangochannel:

catbountry:

bogleech:

IT’S A HUMMINGBEE

These are BEE FLIES!

Harmless to everything else, these precious little cutie pies sneak their eggs into beehives, where their larvae can parasitize bee larvae and eat their food reserves!

Simultaneously adorable and insidious!

fairy types.

masterpiecedaily:

Hasui Kawase
Kizaki Lake, Shinshu
1941

masterpiecedaily:

Hasui Kawase

Kizaki Lake, Shinshu

1941

bellsandforks:

The Velvet Underground & Nico cover album (artwork by David Shrigley)

bellsandforks:

The Velvet Underground & Nico cover album (artwork by David Shrigley)

greenbongo:

How are You Feeling?: At the Centre of the Inside of The Human Brain’s Mind
David Shrigley 
 

greenbongo:

How are You Feeling?: At the Centre of the Inside of The Human Brain’s Mind

David Shrigley 

 
We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
Charles Bukowski (via thatkindofwoman)

from picasso’s blue period