Tumgik
cruelmiracles · 23 days
Text
I made this blog shortly after tumblr terminated eternal--return. A few days later this blog was also terminated. So frustrating! So...I made a third. And then somehow this blog came back. Please come follow me where I'll be active
@eternal--returned
8 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
“[Love] promises a way out of our suffering. We suffer from our isolation in our individual separateness. Love reiterates: “If only you possessed the beloved one, your soul sick with loneliness would be one with the soul of the beloved.” Partially at least this promise is a fraud.”
— Georges Bataille, in Erotism: Death and Sensuality
3K notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Photo
Tumblr media
john lavery’s “anna pavlova as dying swan, (1921)” .
1K notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
Masha Raymers ǁ Over the Horizon (2024)
6 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
America is made up, as we all know, of people who ran away from such ugly situations. America is the land par excellence of expatriates and escapists, renegades, to use a strong word. A wonderful world we might have made of this new continent if we had really run out on our fellow-men in Europe, Asia and Africa. A brave, new world it might have become, had we had the courage to turn our back on the old, to build afresh, to eradicate the poisons which had accumulated through centuries of bitter rivalry, jealousy and strife.
Henry Miller ǁ The Air-Conditioned Nightmare (1945)
5 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
Marcus Bunyan ǁ Traveling the wonderful loneliness (2019-24)
6 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
To old men and to bored, morose young ones it seemed that they themselves came to resemble her, having been with her and spoken with her for a time. Anyone who talked with her and saw her bright little smile at every word and her gleaming white teeth, which showed constantly, thought himself especially amiable that day. And that is what each of them thought.
Leo Tolstoy ǁ War and Peace (1869)
9 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
André Kertész ǁ Lost Cloud, New York City (1937)
13 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
Charlotte Kemp Muhl
10 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Against a grayish sky a grayer cloud rimmed black by the sun.
On the left, that is, the right, a white cherry branch with black blossoms.
Light shadows on your dark face. You'd just taken a seat at the table and put your hands, gone gray, upon it.
You look like a ghost who's trying to summon up the living.
(And since I still number among them, I should appear to him and tap: good night, that is, good morning, farewell, that is, hello. And not grudge questions to any of his answers concerning life, that storm before the calm.)
Wisława Szymborska ǁ “Negative.” Moment (2002)
2 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
WATCHMAN: It's one long year I'm lying here watching waiting watching waiting—
Aeschylus (trans. Anne Carson) ǁ Agamemnon, An Orestia (2009)
2 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
cruelmiracles ǁ Clyde Lake, Kamas, Utah (2023)
15 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 28 days
Text
the 3 of us were somewhere between 9 and 10 years old and we would gather in the bushes alongside the driveway about 9:30 p.m. and look under the shade and through the curtains at Mrs. Curson's crossed legs—always one foot wiggling, such a fine thin ankle! and she usually had her skirt above the knee (actually above the knee!) and then above the garter that held the hose sometimes we could see a glimpse of her white thigh. how we looked and breathed and dreamed about those perfect white thighs! suddenly Mr. Curson would get up from his chair to let the dog out and we'd start running through strange yards climbing 5 foot lattice fences, falling, getting up, running for blocks finally getting brave again and stopping at some hamburger stand for a coke. I'm sure that Mrs. Curson never realized what her legs and white thighs did for us then.
Charles Bukowski ǁ “legs and white thighs.” what matters most is how well you walk through the fire (1999)
3 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 28 days
Text
Tumblr media
Hajime Kinoko ǁ Funny (No date)
2 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 28 days
Text
I will enjoy the present and be done with the past. Dear friend, you are quite right, there would be less pain among people if they would desist—God knows what makes them do it—from so busily employing their imaginations in remembering past ills rather than in enduring an indifferent present.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ǁ The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774)
4 notes · View notes
cruelmiracles · 28 days
Text
Tumblr media
Tommy Nease ǁ La Reina de la Noche (2024)
1 note · View note