beautyrealvisual

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I’M the Robbyst, as the Robbyst as design my Digital art rebelion

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I’M the Robbyst as the Robbyst the norg Borg goddess art exhibit.

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I’M the Robbyst , as the Norg Borg goddess I create my digital art as an act of fashion and space rebellion.

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Émile Verhaeren (21 May 1855) was a Belgian poet and art critic.

“I love things that are absurd, useless, impossible, frantic, excessive, and intense, because they provoke me, because I feel them like thorns in my flesh.”

Émile Verhaeren

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Arthur Conan Doyle (22 May 1859) was a British writer and physician.

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth".

Arthur Conan Doyle

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Martin Eden is a 1909 novel by American author Jack London about a young autodidact struggling to become a writer.

“Every book was a peep-hole into the realm of knowledge. His hunger fed upon what he read, and increased.”

Jack London, Martin Eden

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Little Zaches Called Cinnabar is a 1819 satirical fairytale fantasy novella by Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann.

"But I know that what gnaws at your heart more than all the poverty, more than all the distress, is your having given birth to that little monster who hangs on you like an evil, sinister burden you must carry throughout life."

Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann, Little Zaches Called Cinnabar

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Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (5 May 1813) was a Danish theologian, philosopher, poet, social critic, and religious author who is widely considered to be the first existentialist philosopher.

“The most common form of despair is not being who you are.”

Søren Kierkegaard

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@anelaxoxo

"And you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine."

Mary oliver, from Evidence :poems, "when i am among the trees"

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One Hundred Years of Solitude is a 1967 novel by Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez.

“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.”

Gabriel García Márquez "One Hundred Years of Solitude"

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A Red, Red Rose

Robert Burns

O, my love is like a red, red rose,

That is newly sprung in June.

O, my love is like the melody,

That is sweetly played in tune.

As fair are you, my lovely lass,

So deep in love am I,

And I will love you still, my Dear,

Till all the seas go dry.

Till all the seas go dry, my Dear,

And the rocks melt with the sun!

O I will love you still, my Dear,

While the sands of life shall run.

And fare you well, my only Love,

And fare you well a while!

And I will come again, my Love,

Although it were ten thousand mile!

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Under the Sun of Satan (Sous le soleil de Satan) is Georges Bernanos's first published novel, appearing in 1926 in Paris.

“We are at that one of life's hours (it strikes for every man) when truth imposes itself, by itself, with irresistible obviousness, when each of us has only to stretch forth his arms to reach at a single bound the surface of shadows, even the sunlight of God. Then is human prudence but a snare and a delusion. Sanctity!' cried out the old priest in a deep voice; 'by saying this word in your presence and for you alone, I know the hurt I inflict upon you! You are not unaware of what sanctity is: a vocation, a calling. Up to the place where God awaits you you will have to climb – climb, or be lost. Expect no human help.”

Georges Bernanos, Under the Sun of Satan

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Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg (2 May 1772), pen name Novalis, was a German aristocrat and polymath, who was a poet, novelist, philosopher and mystic.

“To romanticize the world is to make us aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.”

Novalis

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“Fly to me through this love-lit night From one thousand miles away And come into my sleep… As midnight nears and shadows creep Come into my sleep

Bind my dreams up in your tangled hair For I am sick at heart, my dear Bind my dreams up in your tangled hair For all the sorrow it will pass, my dear…”

~ Nick Cave, Come Into My Sleep

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“People often forget the eroticism of connecting through mind & spirit. The way a body tingles when its soul has been stroked by another’s. The comfort when someone not only understands you, but feels you.”

— Meredith Marple

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Shh......