My favorite painting in my favorite museum.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals, it dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.
— Anais Nin (via rorschachx)
A woman who truly understood the human condition.
Only the worst of us have seen us as separate from the beasts of the ground. We are one being. A unity that has only been broken in the name of progress. Our true nature has always been communal not individual.