Booklover

the59thstreetbridge:

jeanpalmerhome

tristealven:

“‘What, precisely, will you grieve for?’ For the river. For myself, my lost joyfulness. For the children who will not know what a river can be—a friend, a companion, a hint of heaven.”

— Mary Oliver, excerpt of “From This River, When I Was a Child, I Used to Drink”, in Red Bird
(via antigonick)

firstfullmoon:

“I love the autumn–that melancholy season that suits memories so well. When the trees have lost their leaves, when the sky at sunset still preserves the russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, it is sweet to watch the final fading of the fires that until recently burnt within you.”

— Gustave Flaubert, from November (Hesperus Press, 2005; 1842) (via crimsonkismet)

watchoutforintellect:

“How heavy my mind is, filled with the past.”

— Louise Gluck, from “Autumn” featured in Winter Recipes from the Collective: Poems

rosesinsnow:

“werifesteria”

— (noun) An old English and dead word, werifesteria means to wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery. (via wordsnquotes)

mileaket:

📍library in kadokawa culture museum

cafeinevitable:

“But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen, when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.”

— L.M. Montgomery | Anne of Windy Poplars

ancientsstudies:

Montclair Book Center. x

appleinducedsleep:

stacking to the ceiling again