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Northern Lights paintings by Sydney Mortimer Laurence

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Here’s Your Certainly Not a Porn Bot Tumblr Description Generator

possible results include: stabbing, cannibalism, frogs, blogging from Mariana Trench and being god 💖

please tag what you got!

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Photo by Marcijus Tomislav 

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Mieke Haase

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TOLKIEN WEEK 2022 | Favorite Location | IMLADRIS (RIVENDELL)

Such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

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Grandmas were so right about puzzles and knitting and crocheting and solitaire and reading slow and slippers and baking and watching deer in the backyard send post

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MICHELLE YEOH W Magazine’s Best Performances 2023 Portfolio by Jamie Hawkesworth

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“A Ghost Is a Memory.” On Bodies, Belief, and the Places Ghost Stories Live

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Jose Sanchez

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Emily Dickinson’s herbarium.

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CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION 🎄 ↳ DOWNTON ABBEY (2011)

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Anyway if you see this you have to reblog and tag with a delight from ur day -- even the littlest thing counts

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Evgeny Sedukhin - “Symphony of the sixth blast furnace” (1979)

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THE WISE MEN

G.K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,     To find the place where men can pray; The way is all so very plain     That we may lose the way. Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore     On tortured puzzles from our youth, We know all the labyrinthine lore, We are the three wise men of yore,     And we know all things but truth. We have gone round and round the hill     And lost the wood among the trees, And learnt long names for every ill, And serve the made gods, naming still     The furies the Eumenides. The gods of violence took the veil     Of vision and philosophy, The Serpent that brought all men bale, He bites his own accursed tail,     And calls himself Eternity. Go humbly … it has hailed and snowed…     With voices low and lanterns lit; So very simple is the road,     That we may stray from it. The world grows terrible and white,     And blinding white the breaking day; We walk bewildered in the light, For something is too large for sight,     And something much too plain to say. The Child that was ere worlds begun     (… We need but walk a little way, We need but see a latch undone…) The Child that played with moon and sun     Is playing with a little hay. The house from which the heavens are fed,     The old strange house that is our own, Where trick of words are never said, And Mercy is as plain as bread,     And Honour is as hard as stone. Go humbly, humble are the skies,     And low and large and fierce the Star; So very near the Manger lies     That we may travel far. Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes     To roar to the resounding plain. And the whole heaven shouts and shakes, For God Himself is born again, And we are little children walking     Through the snow and rain.

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Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu for You Magazine photographed by Ralph Wenig (2022)

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