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(via hingstkuda)

Beatrice Alemagna

Ireland, West Coast, County Kerry, 1988 by Harry Gruyaert

Ireland, West Coast, County Kerry, 1988 by Harry Gruyaert

(via ttenderly)


you look like you do for a reason, you are the outcome of generation upon generation, who all looked like they did so they could make the most of living in environments that could be tough, your legs and your nose and your skin are like that for a reason and is that not wondrous! I can’t wrap my little head around how everything has a reason, and exists because it needed to at some time! so how you look is an accumulation of bloodlines and history and you are so important ahhhh


W.B. Yeats ( 1865–1939 )  The Wind Among the Reeds.  1899. Song of Wandering Aengus


W.B. Yeats 
( 1865–1939 )  
The Wind Among the Reeds.  
Song of Wandering Aengus

Hedy West - Little Sadie

Yma Sumac Legend Of The Sun Virgin (Full album)


Laura Cantrell - “Cellar Door”

from the November 2002 Peel Sessions

Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belonging to a man - a woman who was ‘one-in-herself’. The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virle. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chastity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus - they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramaic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chastity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched.
— Monica Sjoo, The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth (via cosmopoliteen)

(via tiny-witches)

If you get the inside right, the outside will fall into place
— Eckhart Tolle (via artpropelled)
A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin. I was sitting out on the steps today, uneasy with fear and discontent. Peter, (the little boy-across-the-street) with the pointed pale face, the grave blue eyes and the slow fragile smile came bringing his adorable sister Libby of the flaxen braids and the firm, lyrically-formed child-body. They stood shyly for a little, and then Peter picked a white petunia and put it in my hair. Thus began an enchanting game, where I sat very still, while Libby ran to and fro gathering petunias, and Peter stood by my side, arranging the blossoms. I closed my eyes to feel more keenly the lovely delicate-child-hands, gently tucking flower after flower into my curls. “And now a white one,” the lisp was soft and tender. Pink, crimson, scarlet, white … the faint pungent odor of the petunias was hushed and sweet. And all my hurts were smoothed away. Something about the frank, guileless blue eyes, the beautiful young bodies, the brief scent of the dying flowers smote me like the clean quick cut of a knife. And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.
— Sylvia Plath   (via nicotinengravy)

(via nicotinengravy)