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Stefan Gierowski (1925-2022) — Image CCXVI [oil, canvas, 1968]
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“Nor had he mentioned his concept of ideal love: a man encounters the perfect woman only once in a lifetime and in every case death interposes—an unseen Pandarus—and lures them into the preordained embrace. This fantasy was probably a product of the hyperbole of popular songs. But over the years it had taken on substance in some recess of his mind and merged there with other things: the shrieking of a tidal wave, the ineluctable force of high tide, the avalanching break of surf upon a shoal…”
- Yukio Mishima, The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea
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I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip one hour more of sleep and live. If I did not have this time to be myself, to write here, to be alone, I would somehow, inexplicably, lose a part of my integrity.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
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Sean O’Pry photographed by Jack Waterlot, for L’Officiel Hommes Middle East (𝟤𝟢𝟣𝟧).
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Gusinoozerskiy datsan.Masks of the Gods,Russia (19th-20th century)
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It is necessary to surpass Aristotle—not in a forward direction in the sense of a progression, but rather backwards in the direction of a more original unveiling of what is comprehended by him. What is at issue here is not an improvement of the definition, not a free-floating brooding over individual lifeless concepts. Rather, this going beyond, which leads backwards, is at once the implicit struggle by which we bring ourselves again before the actuality that prevails tacitly in the concepts that have lost life for the tradition. Whether this monstrous task succeeds or fails, that is a later concern. It is enough if we experience in this struggle only that we are too weak and too unprepared to master what has been given to us as our task. This may then at the very least awaken in us the one thing which belongs in no small way to the presumption of philosophizing and about which there is nothing more to say: the awe before the actual works.
Martin Heidegger: Aristotle's Metaphysics
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Edward Gorey (1925-2000), ''The Wolves of Willoughby Chase'' by Joan Aiken, 1964
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Three nuns dancing, 1920's - by Rudolf Koppitz (1884 – 1936), Czech/Austrian
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She looked, and saw the black, domed sky arching over her head. And her heart dilated; she felt the great black dome in her heart. She sat under the stars, worshipping them. Her heart opened and grew vast, until the whole sky with all its stars began to pour into her, a mysterious flood of star-strung darkness. She wanted to receive the night sky into her heart.
Anna Kavan
Let me alone
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