The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by thier coevals to have had dealing with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as "stregoica" - witch, "ordog" and "pokol" - Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken as "wampyr", which we all undertand too well.  There have been from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and thier graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in all good; in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest.

- Bram Stoker, Dracula

ya toda me entregué y dí

Marilyn Minter - Green Pink Caviar Seiries? (200?)

Lorenzo Bernini - Éxtasis de Santa Teresa (1647-1651)

Ya toda me entregué y di, | y de tal suerte he trocado, | que mi Amado es para mí | y yo soy para mi Amado. | Cuando el dulce Cazador me tiró y dejó herida, | en los brazos del amor | mi alma quedó rendida; | y, cobrando nueva vida, de tal manera he trocado, | que mi Amado es para mí | y yo soy para mi Amado. | Hirióme con una flecha | enherbolada de amor, | y mi alma quedó hecha | una con su Criador; | Ya yo no quiero otro amor, | pues a mi Dios me he entregado, | y mi Amado es para mí | y yo soy para mi Amado.

the night was wonderful, our hearts were ringin in the key that our souls were singing... one of those nights that only exist to young eyes [...] there was such a deep sky, so starred as we danced in the night

-Fedor Dostoyevsky, White Nights  & Earth, Wind and Fire, September

hahn bin at le poisson rouge (ny)

I don’t experience Bach any different from Madonna, I don’t experience Penderecki different from Mozart; it’s all music, and whenever a music is great, whenever an artist is great, we experience and feel something special ...

you taste good... like a bad girl should

Happiness, Wallace suggests in a Kierkegaardian note... is the ability to pay attention, to live in the present moment, to find second-by-second joy + gratitude at the gift of being alive.

~ The Pale King – David Foster Wallace (The New York Times  Review)

beautiful | goldfrapp

Magic maker, wish me one wish
Hold me to your light and maybe

Oh what if I say
Why don't we play
I'll wear your star

I shiver, you shake it
To me I can't help it
Don't know, am I dreaming
Or have you, you haven't

Stop for awhile
Why don't we play
I'll wear your star

Oh, love make me
Oh, love tasted beautiful
Oh, love make me
Oh, love tasted critical

Turn me onto your star
Show me
One night, slowly
Aching, make me

Oh, what if I say
Why don't we play
I'll wear your star.

I'm goin right under
Your spell has taken over
I'm feelin, your passion
Oh there's no need for
The place where I'll wait

Why don't we play
I'll wear your star

Oh, love make me
Oh, love tasted beautiful
Oh, love make me
Oh, love tasted critical

♥