Viking axe head. 1030 years old, found in Denmark
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An economy that relies on crime
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canada.
photo courtesy of @1242crew.
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devil in the vineyard
Apocalypse, England ca. 1300
BnF, Latin 10474, fol. 30v
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Souls...
Natural Christmas Tree on the shore of Lake Superior in Minnesota. [OC] [4507X3380] ✈
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Mont Saint Michel in Normandy, France.
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king Philip of Macedon is being treated unfairly
conception of Alexander the Great, Les faize d'Alexandre (translation of Historiae Alexandri Magni of Quintus Curtius Rufus), Bruges ca. 1468-1475
BL, Burney 169, fol. 14r
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After Guido Reni. Detail from Europa and the Bull, 17th Century.
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…daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
e. e. cummings, from “#16 (in time of daffodils)” featured in 95 Poems
(via watchoutforintellect)
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The wild is an integral part of who we are as children. Without pausing to consider what or where or how, we gather herbs and flowers, old apples and rose hips, shiny pebbles and dead spiders, poems, tears and raindrops, putting each treasured thing into the cauldron of our souls. We stir our bucket of mud as if it were, every one, a bucket of chocolate cake to be mixed for the baking. Little witches, hag children, we dance our wildness, not afraid of not knowing.
Emma Restall Orr
(via wildcompassmagic)
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The snake witch stone from sweden has this unique and fascinating symbol. A #triskelion made of three beasts. One is clearly a boar, Another is a bird, likely an eagle 🦅, the third could be a dragon or a stylised wolf 🐺 #pagan #swedishhistory #norsemythology #history
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My gf sent me this 🌷🐰
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Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play… I tell you, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
(via bookmania)
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