came to believe..

snoopy reads mary oliver!!

The cricket doesn’t wonder if there’s a heaven or, if there is, if there’s room for him. It’s fall. Romance is over. Still, he sings. If he can, he enters a house through the tiniest crack under the door. Then the house grows colder. He sings slower and slower. Then, nothing. This must mean something, I don’t know what. But certainly it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been an excellent cricket all his life.

Instead of picking flowers from my garden and sending them to you for your birthday on a journey they could never survive, I will offer them in the manner of the sacrificers of the Egyptian reliefs, who dedicated and presented their flowers to the gods not by picking them, but by holding their hands for a time quietly and intently around the living, growing stems. - Katharina Kippenberg, quoted in the notes of Rainer Maria Rilke’s Uncollected Poems, trans. Edward Snow (North Point Pr; Bilingual edition, March 1, 1996) (via alive on all channels)

via Archives Mood

— Michael Gungor, The Crowd, The Critic And The Muse: A Book For Creators

Medium: oil,panel

https://www.wikiart.org/en/piet-mondrian/lighthouse-in-westkapelle-1909

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

Mary Oliver

https://www.pinterest.com/autumnharvest/

— Alan Watts

http://www.instagram.com/houseandhome/

by celine phoenix