lungs

Inês. I am the combined effort of everyone I have ever met.

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  1. (Source: poboh, via nocternity)

  2. bellecs:

c. 1908

    bellecs:

    c. 1908

    (via avanishedtime)

  3. aseaofquotes:

Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
aseaofquotes:

Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
    High Resolution

    aseaofquotes:

    Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

  4. holdthisphoto:

1913
holdthisphoto:

1913
    High Resolution
  5. 23silence:

Albert-Ernest Carrier-Belleuse (1824-1887) - Figure study
23silence:

Albert-Ernest Carrier-Belleuse (1824-1887) - Figure study
    High Resolution

    23silence:

    Albert-Ernest Carrier-Belleuse (1824-1887) - Figure study

    (via interwar)

  6. "I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books."

     - C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (via amorette)

    (via knockturn)


  7. High Resolution
  8. poboh:

Auxerre Cathedral, 1907, Gustave Loiseau. French (1865 - 1935)

    poboh:

    Auxerre Cathedral, 1907, Gustave Loiseau. French (1865 - 1935)

    (via bugseatbooks)

  9. Bizarre Victorian fact of the day…

    William John Cavendish-Scott-Bentinck the 5th Duke of Portland was a famous 19th century eccentric. He never wanted to meet anyone and so spent most of his time in 4 or 5 rooms within his enormous mansion. He communicated with people in written form with correspondence being posted through letterboxes in his bedroom door, his meals were brought to him by a miniature railway, he only went outside at night and all the servants were told to ignore his presence should they ever see him.

    (Source: vicfangirlguide, via wuthering-heights)

  10. [Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

    comehomebrother:

    Tom Hiddleston reading Shakespeare Sonnet 130

    My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
    Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
    If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
    If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
    I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
    But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
    And in some perfumes is there more delight
    Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
    I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
    That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
    I grant I never saw a goddess go;
    My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
       And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
       As any she belied with false compare.

    (Source: kamero-gomez, via fastfadingviolets)