I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (via joshuastarlight)
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her.
"Porphyria’s Lover," by Robert Browning (via elysesummerhouse)
Pickpocket (1959) Robert Bresson
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Dir. Jacques Demy, 1964)
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