The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be...– Homer, The Illiad (via wickedwaysoflove)
To a Madonna by Charles Baudelaire
ADONNA, mistress, I would build for thee An altar deep in the sad soul of me; And in the darkest corner of my heart, From mortal hopes and mocking eyes apart, Carve of enamelled blue and gold a shrine For thee to stand erect in, Image divine! And with a mighty Crown thou shalt be crowned Wrought of the gold of my smooth Verse, set round With starry crystal rhymes; and I will...