image from Homocore Toronto, no. 2, 1993
(via alerioon)
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
H.P Lovecraft (via stranger-in-astrangeland)
Collage by Peter Christopherson. 1976
(via what-i-see)
There’s been alot of upsetting, very upsetting things that I can’t allow to happen anymore. I have to be like a soldier and march away.
‘Cause I’m very delicate in a lot of ways, and things get to me, and effect me… in a very adverse manner. I don’t need that; don’t need that.
I feel now like minus something, you know, I feel faded; I don’t feel like I’m all here.
I think it’ll come back; I hope it’ll come back. There’s alot of colour missing, from the way I feel, and my face, and, you know, just everything.
There’s some kind of zest, or…life, you know, that seems to be faded temporarily, because I’ve been so drained, emotionally, by a number of things.
That has to slowly build back up, and then it has to be kept sustatined; it cannot be allowed to be diminished.
(via decayedintelligence)
Flowers above the high walls of the neighborhood villas in Algiers. Another world from which I felt exiled.
The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be. At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men. But I am a part of this universe, and the most courageous thing to do is to accept it and the tragedy at the same time.
Humanism. I do not like humanity in general. In myself I sense primarily solidarity with it, which is not the same thing. And then I love some men, alive or dead, with so much admiration that I am always jealous or anxious to protect or defend in all the others that which, by chance or on some day that I cannot foresee, has made or will make them like the former.
(via hate-wizard)
