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“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.” ** James Baldwin **
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“Stars Hide Your Fires, Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.” - Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 4 -
“All At Once We Were Madly, Clumsily, Shamelessly, Agonizingly In Love With Each Other; Hopelessly, I Should Add…” ** Vladimir Nabokov **
A Person Needs A Little Madness, Or Else They Never Dare Cut The Rope And Be Free. ♥ Nikos Kazantzakis ♥
Oda A La Luz Encantada
And Tears Are Heard Within The Harp I Touch. ♦Petrarca♦
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