siebentekontinent:

Au Hasard Balthazar (Robert Bresson, 1966)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

She laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart.

Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid. (via theburnthatkeepseverything)

(via theburnthatkeepseverything)

I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity.

Jean-Paul Sartre

(via eulum)

(via Aneta Bartos | Dazed Digital)

Edvard Munch, Consolation

(via theburnthatkeepseverything)

I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

God help us — for art is long, and life so short.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, from Faust: First Part

(via grandeodalisque-deactivated2014)

Andrei Tarkovsky’s “STALKER” (1979)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

… sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, the next a star.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from “Sunset” in Selected Poems, trans. Robert Bly

Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece, and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case.

The Sign of Four by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

(via booklover)

Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, Magnetism

(via twobirdsonabranch)

I keep my phrases hung like clothes in a cupboard, waiting for someone to wear them.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)

This is death, death, death, she noted in the margin of her mind; when illusion fails.

Virginia Woolf, Between The Acts

(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)

Interpretation is the revenge of the intellectual upon art.

Susan Sontag

(via booklover)

Those who control the past, control the future: who controls the present controls the past.

"1984" by Eric Blair aka. George Orwell.