Fernando Pessoa: “The Keeper of Sheep”

Photographers Unknown, Nine Images to Ponder

“Also at times, on the surface of streams,

Water? bubbles form

And grow and burst

And have no meaning at all

Except that they’re water? bubbles

Growing and bursting.”

—Fernando Pessoa (Alberto Caeiro), The Keeper of Sheep

Stripes

Photographer Unknown, (Life Lies Amid the Stripes)

Remembering

Photographer Unknown, “Se Souvenant”

Reblogged with thanks to http://hermker.tumblr.com

Structure

Photographer Unknown, (Structure)

“It shouldn’t be very difficult for anyone to resist the temptation to force himself into the pattern of the structured man. One needs only to remember that a groove may be safe–but that, as one wears away at it, the groove becomes first a rut and finally a grave.”
― J. Paul Getty

Hidden

Photographer Unknown, (Hidden)

Maritus Zusak: “And We Climbed Out of Those Shower Facilities”

Photographer Unknown, (The Morning Shower)

When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. When their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation, their spirits came toward me, into my arms, and we climbed out of those shower facilities, onto the roof and up, into eternity’s certain breadth. They just kept feeding me. Minute after minute. Shower after shower.”

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Jacques-Louis David

Jacques-Louis David. “The Death of Socrates”, Detail, 1787, Oil on Canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

Pat Conroy: The Lowcountry Had Its Own Special Ache and Sting”

Photographer Unknown, (The Lowcountry)

“I loved these salt rivers more than I loved the sea; I loved the movement of tides more than I loved the fury of surf. Something in me was congruent with this land, something affirmed when I witnessed the startled, piping rush of shrimp or the flash of starlight on the scales of mullet. I could feel myself relax and change whenever I returned to the lowcountry and saw the vast green expanses of marsh, feminine as lace, delicate as calligraphy. The lowcountry had its own special ache and sting.”

― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline