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@thebluesthour
Blue, to my eyes, somehow carries both lightness and heaviness.
How can it do that?
because it encloses the world; all that is above it (lightness), all that is below it (darkness). two tones of life and we live in between them
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“Born blue, living blue unconfessed, blue in concealment, I’ve lived all my life at the plinth of greater things than me.”
— Spoken For, Li-Young Lee
Art by Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky.
Leila Chatti, from "Postcard from Gone"
from us it begins
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The eyes—a deep blue without hope of reflection…
– Jeff VanderMeer, Veniss Underground
Made me want to create an account dedicated to blue as well. Well, thank you. It provides me peace.
this warms my heart immensely! if you decide to make one, please don't hesitate to share it, if you feel comfortable of course 💙 more blue love is always welcomed 💙
René Magritte, Sixteenth of September, 1956
My course is almost run. I have started to turn salty. The high banks that once bounded my sides have gone and great wet plains stretch away on either side instead, while straight ahead, beckoning me on and running right to the horizon, the never-ending, the everlasting, grey green blue white black silver sea.
Carlo Gébler, I, Antigone
Tin-enamelled earthenware tile with a design of a hare amongst foliage (Mexico, circa 1700).
Image and text information courtesy Philadelphia Museum of Art.
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“Love Song” by William Carlos Williams
Summer Solstice - Inka Essenhigh, 2008.
American, b.1969 -
Oil on canvas , 60 x 78 in. 152.4 x 198.1 cm.
…there was no better time than the present: the bus was now rolling down the highway; buildings flashed by now and then; the passengers dozed; the road spread out endlessly, to the edge, to the very horizon. And there, as I believed, awaiting me—beyond the horizon now—were blue, green shores.
– Nina Berberova, In Memory of Schliemann
simply one of the prettiest pics ive ever taken
Below, on the guesthouse terrace, chairs and shawls and white dresses can be seen. And beyond, the idyllic, clear, blue lake. A postcard.
Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh)
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All it ever does is rain, Dadu Shin
This evening in the slow-deepening dusk I sat by my window and spent an hour in passionate conversation with the Devil.
Mary MacLane, from 'I Await the Devil's Coming'
