although I never write, secretly
I long to die with you,
does that count?
Franz Wright, Dedication.
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@crackademics
although I never write, secretly
I long to die with you,
does that count?
Franz Wright, Dedication.

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Ocean Vuong, on earth we’re briefly gorgeous // Anne Carson, glass, irony and god
Mary Oliver, Mindful
John Keats, from a letter to Fanny Brawne
Ophelia (detail) 1864. Thomas Francis Dicksee

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Caravaggio, details of Bacchus.
anne carson, Euripides
“Your face is closer to me than my own. Phantom memory. How I’d love to kill you—”
—
Alejandra Pizarnik, excerpt of “Words of the Wind [Paroles du vent]”, trans. by Patricio Ferrari and Forrest Gander in The Galloping Hour
Source — Ton visage est plus près de moi que le mien. Mémoire fantôme. Comme j’aimerais te tuer—
Joseph Severn (John Keats’ best friend), sketched this portrait of Keats on his deathbed in Rome, where they travelled in hopes he would recover.
John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale

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cottagecore is out cloistercore is IN if you need me ill be manually transcribing a document by candlelight like a medieval monk
Detail of 'Portrait of Wincenty Rapacki as Hamlet' by Karol Miller (Polish, 1835 - 1920)
Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red
“I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days.”
Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas
Interactive :: House Saints by Hala Alyan

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dark academia music: orchestra edition
just a couple of pieces i enjoy
dance of the knights by prokofiev performed by the LSO
danse macabre by camille saint-saëns conducted by stokowski
verklärte nacht op.4 by schoenberg performed by pierre boulez
isle of the dead by rachmaninov performed by the royal stockholm philharmonicÂ
pavane for a dead princess by ravel performed by national orchestra of france
adagietto by mahler performed by berlin philharmonic (current favorite)
“I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time. Upon my Soul I can think of nothing else.”
“My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again—my Life seems to stop there—I see no further. You have asorb’d me.”
“I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you.”
“I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion—I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more—I could be martyr’d for my Religion—Love is my religion—I could die for that. I could die for you.”
“My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.”
my favorite parts from john keats’ letter to fanny brawne