Christina Rossetti ~ October
Crack your first nut and light your first fire;
Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,
Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
Logs we can find wherever we are.
Spring one soft day will open the leaves,
Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;
Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,
Never fancy I've tears in my showers;
Dance, nights and days! And dance on, my hours!
from The Months: A Pageant.
Painting: Autumn Leaves
Sir John Everett Millais - 1855-1856
Charles Baudelaire ~ Evening
Jakub Schikaneder - circa 1900
“I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,
And the moon rise and turn them silver.
I shall see
The springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight,
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.”
Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal
Nikolai Pimonenko, Evening
Sylvia Plath ~ Loneliness
“And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Emilio Longoni - 1900
Fernando Pessoa ~ Contemplation
“Life is an experimental journey undertaken involuntarily. It is a journey of the spirit through the material world and, since it is the spirit that travels, it is the spirit that is experienced. That is why there exist contemplative souls who have lived more intensely, more widely, more tumultuously than others who have lived their lives purely externally.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Giulio Artistide Sartorio (1860-1932)
Studio per la testa della Gorgone
Oil on Canvas
Cesare Pavese ~ The Pleasure Of Being Alive
"There is only one pleasure, that of being alive. All the rest is misery"
Cesare Pavese was an Italian poet, novelist, literary critic and translator. He is widely considered among the major authors of the 20th century in his home country. (Wikipedia)
Dorothy Parker ~ Midnight
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
All blend to one.
No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light
Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest.
There is no edged thing in all this night,
Save in my breast.
Stanislav Zhukovsky - 1912
“Hands, do what you're bid;Bring the balloon of the mindThat bellies and drags in the windInto its narrow shed.”William Butler Yeats
Photo: The Balloon Merchant, 1931
Anne Bronte ~ The Silent Hour Of Night
“I love the silent hour of night, for blissful dreams may then arise, revealing to my charmed sight what may not bless my waking eyes.”
― Anne Brontë -
Moonlit Landscape, by Edward Steichen, 1907
Ingeborg Bachmann ~ A Lost Sense Of Belonging Somewhere
“She wondered all the same how much they really had to say to one another, given that they had only this city in common and a similar way of talking, the same intonation, perhaps she'd just wanted to believe after that third whiskey on the roof garden at the Hilton that he would give her back something she'd lost, a missing taste, an intonation gone flat, that ghostly feeling of home, though she was no longer at home anywhere.”
― Ingeborg Bachmann, Simultan: Erzählungen
The Butterfly Of Brassai And Keats…
“I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”
― John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne
Papillon à la bougie, 1933