“You are the bird whose wings came
when I awakened in the night and called.
Only with my arms I called, because your name
is like a chasm, a thousand nights deep.
You are the shadows in which I quietly slept,
and your seed devised in me each dream,—
you are the image, but I am the frame
that makes you stand in glittering relief.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, from “The Guardian Angel,” in The Book of Images, trans. Edward Snow (via proustitute)
“Ugly is irrelevant. It is an immeasurable insult to a woman, and then supposedly the worst crime you can commit as a woman. But ugly, as beautiful, is an illusion. A matter of taste, a whim, an eye, a beholder, an opinion, a spin, light crossing the frame, paint, projection. The moment. Context.”—Margaret Cho (via light-essence)