Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary

Emil Cioran, A Short History of Decay

"On Melancholy" Web-Weave

Tristan Mateer (image by @letsbelonelytogetherr), @some-kinda-angel, Anne Sexton, Death Cab for Cutie, and lastly @moonstoast

Bing Hua February Roses / Anna de Noailles (tr. Norman R. Sharpiro) Your Hidden Fleshy Grace / Alex Dimitrov "February" Love and Other Poems / William Shakespeare Much Ado About Nothing / Margaret Atwood February / Jenny Han We'll Always Have Summer / Ellen Hopkins Crank #1 / Margaret Atwood February

can you please do one about melancholy and rain ?🍵

via @quietvoiced \\ ernesto navarro blue melancholy_3 \\ may sarton recovering: a journal (via @flowerytale) \\ john keats ode on melancholy \\ nenad selestrin rain girl \\ edward thomas rain \\ alejandra pizarnik the galloping hour: french poems: "all day long" (tr. patricio ferrari & forrest gander)

kofi

- a study in melancholy - 

‘la mélancolie’, louis-jean-françois lagrenée | ‘melancholy woman’, pablo picasso | ‘at eternity’s gate’, vincent van gogh | ‘rest’, vilhelm hammershøi | ‘la madeleine’, paul cezanne | ‘nonchaloir (repose)’, john singer sargent

a day late to my 6 years on t anniversary ✨🏳️‍⚧️ a short comic about looking back

they should invent a way to hug your online friends who live so so far away

noo don’t cry about july ending and the time passing, just remember the july poem :)

part of a sadness

A bus is basically the classic thing to wait in the rain for

There is a look and feeling of melancholy in everything — that melancholy which is the sweetest tongue of thought.

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry featured in A Passionate apprentice: The Early Journals

A melancholy man is one, that keeps the worst Company in the World, that is, his own; and tho' he be always falling out and quarrelling with himself, yet he has not power to endure any other Conversation. His Head is haunted, like a House, with evil Spirits and Apparitions, that terrify and fright him out of himself, till he stands empty and forsaken. His Sleeps and his Wakings are so much the same, that he knows not how to distinguish them, and many times when he dreams, he believes he is broad awake and sees Visions [...] His Brain is so cracked, that he fancies himself to be Glass, and is afraid that every Thing he comes near should break him in Pieces. Whatsoever makes an Impression in his Imagination works it self in like a Screw, and the more he turns and winds it, the deeper it sticks, till it is never to be got out again. The Temper of his Brain being earthy, cold, and dry, is apt to breed Worms, that sink so deep into it, no Medicine in Art or Nature is able to reach them.

Samuel Butler, "A Melancholy Man," from Characters

DO YOU KNOW THIS CHARACTER?

whereabouts jhumpa lahiri

kofi

the cupboard under the stairs