Acceptance World

billyjane: adski_kafeteri: Lillian Gish poses for Gleb...

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 23:36:33 +0000

adski_kafeteri: Lillian Gish poses for Gleb Derujinsky.1924.

byronic: copycats: Lo, How a Rose E’re Blooming - Feist...

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 23:33:43 +0000

copycats:

Lo, How a Rose E’re Blooming - Feist
originally a German Christmas Carol from the 15th century
(posted by sometimesagreatnotion)

ataxiwardance: waxandmilk: Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 23:19:15 +0000

ataxiwardance:

waxandmilk:

Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

crashinglybeautiful: tartanspartan: George Harrison’s Wedding...

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 23:18:45 +0000

crashinglybeautiful:

tartanspartan:

George Harrison’s Wedding Portrait to Pattie Boyd — Robert Freeman, undated

"It’s not catastrophes, murders, deaths, diseases, that age and kill us; it’s the way people look and..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:49:27 +0000

“It’s not catastrophes, murders, deaths, diseases, that age and kill us; it’s the way people look and laugh, and run up the steps of omnibuses.”

- Virginia Woolf (via samsaramotel) (via crashinglybeautiful)

ideefixedujour: Vintage Deco Mystery Book Dust...

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:40:47 +0000

ideefixedujour:

Vintage Deco Mystery Book Dust Jacket/Cover—London Calling (via finsbry)

ooh, am going to look out for this one

"His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at her feet, and..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:36:03 +0000

“His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at her feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"He said the most melancholy things, but she noticed that directly he had said them he always seemed..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:33:17 +0000

“He said the most melancholy things, but she noticed that directly he had said them he always seemed more cheerful than usual. All this phrase-making was a game, she thought, for if she had said half what he said, she would have blown her brains out by now.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:30:18 +0000

“For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others. Although she continued to knit, and sat upright, it was thus that she felt herself; and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures. When life sank down for a moment, the range of experience seemed limitless.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"Standing between her knees, James felt all her strength flaring up to be drunk and quenched by the..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:23:52 +0000

“Standing between her knees, James felt all her strength flaring up to be drunk and quenched by the beak of brass, the arid scimitar of the male, which smote mercilessly, again and again, demanding sympathy.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"To pursue truth with such astonishing lack of consideration for other people’s feelings, to..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:20:05 +0000

“To pursue truth with such astonishing lack of consideration for other people’s feelings, to rend the thin veils of civilization so wantonly, so brutally, was to her so horrible an outrage of human decency that, without replying, dazed and blinded, she bent her head as if to let the pelt of jagged hail, the drench of dirty water, bespatter her unrebuked.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"But it was not that they minded, the children said. It was not his face; it was not his manners. ..."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:13:33 +0000

“But it was not that they minded, the children said. It was not his face; it was not his manners. It was him - his point of view. When they talked about something interesting, people, music, history, anything, even said it was a fine evening so why not sit out of doors, then what they complained of about Charles Tansley was that until he had turned the whole thing round and made it somehow reflect himself and disparage them, put them all on edge somehow with his acid way of peeling the flesh and blood off everything, he was not satisfied.”

- Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

"It is my conceit to expose myself to reproach only from others, never from myself."

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 22:10:10 +0000

“It is my conceit to expose myself to reproach only from others, never from myself.”

- ‘Nero Wolfe’ in The Mother Hunt (1963) by Rex Stout

nadej: via www.bbc.co.uk We are watching this.

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 10:06:18 +0000

nadej:

via www.bbc.co.uk

We are watching this.

bloodygood: Look Around You via...

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 09:52:00 +0000

bloodygood:

Look Around You

via www.the-medium-is-not-enough.com

exclamationmark: (via drakecaperton)

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 09:32:45 +0000

exclamationmark:

(via drakecaperton)

bloodygood: Dr. Who via The Medium is Not Enough

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 09:27:12 +0000

bloodygood:

Dr. Who

via The Medium is Not Enough

"I am not afraid as I descend, step by step, leaving behind the salt wind blowing up the corrugated..."

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 20:58:52 +0000

“

I am not afraid as I descend,
step by step, leaving behind the salt wind
blowing up the corrugated river,

the damp city streets, their sodium glare
of rush-hour headlights pitted with pearls of rain;
for my eyes still reflect the half remembered moon.

Already your face recedes beneath the station clock,
a damp smudge among the shadows
mirrored in the train’s wet glass,

will you forget me? Steel tracks lead you out
past cranes and crematoria,
boat yards and bike sheds, ruby shards

of roman glass and wolf-bone mummified in mud,
the rows of curtained windows like eyelids
heavy with sleep, to the city’s green edge.

Now I stop my ears with wax, hold fast
the memory of the song you once whispered in my ear.
Its echoes tangle like briars in my thick hair.

You turned to look.
Second fly past like birds.
My hands grow cold. I am ice and cloud.

This path unravels.
Deep in hidden rooms filled with dust
and sour night-breath the lost city is sleeping.

Above the hurt sky is weeping,
soaked nightingales have ceased to sing.
Dusk has come early. I am drowning in blue.

I dream of a green garden
where the sun feathers my face
like your once eager kiss.

Soon, soon I will climb
from this blackened earth
into the diffident light.

”

- Sue Hubbard, Eurydice

This poem used to be painted on the walls of the pedestrian tunnel connecting Waterloo Station with the South Bank. I read today that during maintenance works over the last year or so Network Rail have let their workmen paint over the poem, erasing at first just one panel, then gradually ruining more of the words. They have now decided to cover it completely as they refurbish the passageway.

Since the artwork was installed the tunnel has got increasingly shabbier, as urban spaces inevitably will, and it currently hosts a number of homeless people sleeping rough, as well as their customary stench of human debris.

But I am really sad to hear of this decision today because that poem accompanied my daily descent into a beautiful hell during my first working summer in London, when I was an idiotic Eurydice waiting for an elusive Orpheus who sang beautiful songs. It soon transpired that the songs weren’t going to get me out of Hades, I had to walk all the way back by myself. (But every time I walk that tunnel I still think of him a little.)

Waterloo battle to restore tunnel poem | News

(via byronic)

ontheborderland: I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet...

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 20:56:29 +0000

ontheborderland:

I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity.

—Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986)

(Image via nespyxel)

crashinglybeautiful: anunreliablewitness: Portishead sign to...

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 20:52:33 +0000

crashinglybeautiful:

anunreliablewitness:

Portishead sign to Amnesty: This new song, Chase the Tear, has been released in association with Amnesty International.to mark International Human Rights Day and the anniversary of the United Nation’s historic Universal Declaration Of Human Rights on 10 December 1948. The UDHR set out for the first time in a single document the fundamental rights to which everyone, everywhere is entitled - including the right to life, liberty, security, the freedoms of opinion, association and expression, and the right not to be subjected to torture or cruel, inhumane and degrading treatment.