Beauty And The Muse
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  1.  
    The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray…

    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

    (via liquidnight)

    Source: liquidnight

  2.  
    It is always sad to leave a place to which one knows one will never return. Such are the mélancolies du voyage: perhaps they are one of the most enriching things about traveling.
    – Gustave Flaubert, from a letter written to Louis Bouilhet, June 2, 1850
    From The Letters of Gustave Flaubert: 1830-1857 (via liquidnight)

    Source: liquidnight

  3.  
    Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.
    – Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited (via liquidnight)

    Source: liquidnight

  4.  
    I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.
    – W. Somerset Maugham, The Moon and Sixpence (via liquidnight)

    (via mudwerks)

    Source: liquidnight