Lord, how I love the chance of any escape— from what? to what? I'm disoriented;
Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. October 1931 featured in “The Diaries of Virginia Woolf,”
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Guinevere Van Seenus by Tim Walker
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Sailor's Valentine, origin unknown - the design could speak for one of the very rare genuine sailor made valentines. 19th century
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Sara Teasdale, From The Sea in "The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale"
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Darcey Bussell’s dress details in The Prince of the Pagodas
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Jøshua Zerø photographed by Nicole Ngai
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Let’s escape the shalt and shalt not. Let’s dissolve the tension for just one minute. If you want, find a boy with a beautiful mouth to kiss you, pull flowers from the ground and weave them into a crown, escape to the shadows of the woods, forget yourself with someone else, pine needles in your hair, twigs pressed into the meat of your back, dirt against your heels as you thrash, under the trees with the animals, under the stars with the trees. Everything is swelling, blooming, glowing, all about to burst, fertile, verdant, ready, wet.
Nina MacLaughlin, from Summer Solstice: An Essay (via lifeinpoetry)
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