What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh,
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its bought more silent that before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sam Weber born in Alaska is a New York-based illustrator, awarded a Gold Award by The Society of Illustrators and the Spectrum Annual. He graduated from The Alberta College of Art and Design in Calgary, before completing a Masters at The School of Visual Arts in New York. His current clients include Time, DC and Rolling Stone.
A la nutria de la vida.
Aveces… Pienso en mis decisiones. En el rencor que siento en mi alma por herir a la única persona que me amo. De lamentar en mi todo, las palabras que le dije en ese instante de rabia y dolor… Por dentro siento las palpitaciones y la tristeza que me devora, dejándome vació e incapaz de reaccionar… Mi vida amargándose día a día desde el momento que te dije adiós. Por las palabras y acciones que demostraban, tu deleita y emoción… Un amor de verdad, que se perdió… Y ahora solo recojo las hilachas de mi corazón, por saber que en ese momento, en ese insípido instante en cual te perdí de mi vida, sin deseo en el alma. te dije adiós…
Love’s finite decadence. The absolution of all desire in a mere instant. The breathlessness of the unchanging solitude of an inescapable reality. Love…
Gong Li - Paolo Roversi
On Monsieur’s Departure, by Elizabeth I, Queen of England
I grieve and dare not show my discontent;
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate.
I am, and not; I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.
My care is like my shadow in the sun—
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands, and lies by me, doth what I have done;
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft, and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, Love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low;
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die, and so forget what love e’er meant.
Caged / Haunted
Beautifully solemn and charming. One of my personal favorites. In this portrait we get to see a part of the artists dramatic side. Her solitude is so charming it’s almost wrong to even classify it as such. Beauty in subtle ounces spread throughout the composition. Her eyes staring down something unseen.. Truly haunting..
I feel no words can describe the depth her eyes perceive. Her natural skin and waving strands of hair leave a ghostly presence. A figure lost in her own time, a catatonic state left in oblivion…
I really enjoyed these pictures since we get to see the artist in a more natural look without her adornments and makeup.. The real Cristina in a way.
I hope you all enjoyed this little spam. If you would like to know more about this great artist I recommend you click this Link and check out her profile. There are many more beautiful photographs that weren’t displayed here. I know you will all love them. That is, if you haven’t already checked them out.