Falcor And Atreyu By Veronica Fish

Botticelli (dettaglio), 1984

Andy Warhol

pop art of james dean

photo by phil stern

Pinks

By Charlotte Hardy

In Memory Of Elvis Aaron Presley – Jan. 8, 1935 – Aug. 16, 1977.

I can’t explain it. I can’t explain what happens when the music starts. But I think you know. I think you know what it is to get all tied up in something, to get lost in it. That’s what singing and music does to me. It ties me up. It makes me forget everything else except the beat and the sound. It tells me more than anything else I’ve ever known, how good, how great it is just to be alive.

Un domingo para leer tranquilamente (ilustración de Eva Navarro)

I’ve got some bad news about crabs.

The Cheeseburger Recipes You Shouldn’t Live Without

Venus in the Grotto

Koloman Moser, c. 1914

There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.

Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray (via theredmatinee)