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Vincent van Gogh's Flowering Plum Tree
Poetry surrounds us everywhere, but putting it on paper is, alas, not so easy as looking at it. Vincent Van Gogh
Calm Intensity by Ford Smith
Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Mary Ellen Mark
“The obsessions we have are pretty much the same our whole lives. Mine are people, the human condition, life.”
Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lang
am trying here to say something about the despised, the defeated, the alienated. About death and disaster, about the wounded, the crippled, the helpless, the rootless, the dislocated. About finality. About the last ditch. - Dorothea Lange
CLAUDE MONET'S WATER!~LILY MORNING WITH WEEPING WILLOW
People discuss my art and pretend to understand as if it were necessary to understand, when it's simply necessary to love. Claude Monet
Vincent van Gogh
Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well. Vincent Van Gogh
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