mymosaic

[mymosaic]

Herman Kruyder (Dutch, 1881-1935), A Birch Tree. Chalk and watercolour on paper, 61.5 x 48 cm.

[mymosaic]

Peter Doig Rosedale, 1991

[mymosaic]

J.R.R. Tolkien, Illustration for Roverandom, n.d.

[mymosaic]

Section of A Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains by Wang Ximeng

[mymosaic]

Arkhip Kuindzhi, Birch Grove, 1881.

[mymosaic]

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.

Thoreau

[mymosaic]

A Revolta das bonecas (The Revolt of the dolls) 1916. Eduardo Viana. Oil on canvas

[mymosaic]

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one…Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness…The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

C.S. Lewis

[mymosaic]

Carl Gustav Carus

[mymosaic]

Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

San Francesco

[mymosaic]

Fred Williams (Australian, 1927-1982), Blue Kite, Kew Billabong, 1975. Oil on canvas, 101 x 106 cm.

[mymosaic]

Vassily Kandinsky "Bleu De Ciel"  - 1940 Mostra dal 17 Dicembre 2013 al 04 Maggio 2014 Palazzo Reale, Milano

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmkqiN9_LSc

[mymosaic]

Trunk of an Old Yew Tree, Vincent van Gogh

1888

[mymosaic]

Snowy Landscape, Ivy and Trees, Léon Spilliaert

[mymosaic]

Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; a hill of many invisible crests; doors that open as in a dream to reveal only a further stretch of carpet and another door; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.

Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

[mymosaic]

With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?

Oscar Wilde

[mymosaic]