Each had a face sliced in it. Each face was different. Every eye was a stranger eye. Every nose was a weirder nose. Every mouth smiled hideously in some new way. A thousand smiles. A thousand grimaces. And twice-times-a thousand glares and winks and blinks and leerings of fresh-cut eyes.
Ray BradburyThe Halloween Tree (via zenarchism)

(via halloween-pumpkin)

To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via englishmajorinrepair)

(via freakofliterature)

(via punkkrockky)

Now go your way in tears, sad little song,
and find once more the ladies and the maidens
to whom your sister poems
were wont to be the messengers of joy;
and you are the daughter of despair,
go now disconsolate, and stay with them.
La Vita Nuova, Dante

I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then.
 Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (via elige)

(via clarabolina)


all new covers for the US [already out] and the UK [coming in September]

It makes me uncomfortable that the new UK covers changed the title logo thing

No but these are beautiful

(via frigginwinchesters)

(via burdge)

Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself.
Oscar Wilde (via stefansir)

(via inmeumlocum)