mythologyofblue

[mythologyofblue]

Piero della Francesca, Portraif of Battista Sforza (Duchess of Urbino, Wife of Federigo da Montefeltro)

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I knew something was wrong

the day I tried to pick up a

small piece of sunlight

and it slithered through my fingers,

not wanting to take shape.

Everything else stayed the same—

the chairs and the carpet

and all the corners

where the waiting continued.

-Dorothea Grossman

[mythologyofblue]

A view of the solar system. Mother Truth's melodies. 1878.

Internet Archive

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"No live organism can continue for long to exist under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream." -Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

[mythologyofblue]

Joseph Heintz the Younger, Competition on the Ponte dei Pugni in Venice

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“A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don't know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn't even be worth reading.” ― Yevgeny Zamyatin, We

[mythologyofblue]

AI/Artificial Intelligence as directed by Obvious: Hugo Caselles-Dupré, Pierre Fautrel, and Gauthier Vernier, Portrait of Edmond De Belamy, 2018

[mythologyofblue]

Albrecht Durer, Arch of Honor for Emperor Maximilian I

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Albrecht Dürer, Painting of a slice of agate, c. 1492

[mythologyofblue]

“And, suddenly, it came home to me that I was a little man in a little ship, in the midst of a very great sea.” ― William Hope Hodgson

[mythologyofblue]

Jan Toorop, O Grave, Where is thy Victory?, 1892

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A man burns prickly pear to feed cattle during a drought in Texas. Photograph by Luis Marden, National Geographic Creative

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“All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.” -Miranda July

[mythologyofblue]

Jean Bourdichon, from the Book of Hours for Use of Parisians: St. Denis of Paris

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Even now, it is morning and the birds, the birds are singing. -Tommy Orange, There, There

[mythologyofblue]

John Auldjo (1805-1886), Map of Vesuvius showing the direction of the streams of Lava in the Eruptions from 1631 AD. to 1831 A.D.

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In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity. -Hermann Hesse, Trees