je pense, donc je suis.
descartes

everything is illuminated.

There is no light in the planet but that which cometh from the sun; there is no light in the moon but that which is borrowed, and there is no true love in the heart but that which cometh from God. Love is the light, the life, and way of the universe. Now, God is both life, and light, and way, and, to crown all, God is love. From this overflowing fountain of the infinite love of God, all our love to God must spring. This must ever be a great and certain truth, that we love him, for no other reason than because he first loved us. There are some that think that God might be loved by simple contemplation of his works. We do not believe it. We have heard a great deal about admiring philosophers, and we have felt that admiration was more than possible when studying the works of God. We have heard a great deal about wondering discoverers, and we have acknowledged that the mind must be base indeed which does not wonder when it looks upon the works of God; and we have sometimes heard about a love to God which has been engendered by the beauties of scenery, but we have never believed in its existence. We do believe that where love is already born in the heart of man, all the wonders of God's providence and creation may excite that love again, it being there already; but we do not and we cannot believe, because we never saw such an instance, that the mere contemplation of God's works could ever raise any man to the height of love. In fact, the great problem has been tried, and it has been solved in the negative.What saith the poet,

"What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Java's isle;
Where every prospect pleases, and only man is vile."

Where God is most resplendent in his works, and most lavish in his gifts, there man has been the vilest and God is the most forgotten.

spurgeon

dear dreylia

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

fallen

i keep falling in love with him
over
and
over
and
over
and
over
again
and
out of love with you

knit-again freaks

wool 100%
no no no stop screaming

clouud

its a cloud
some call it doubt
some call it fear
i call it 9
it creeps up
there's a binding
a scraping inside the walls
in the same manner as hunger
but its not joy
and its not peace
its lingering and fleeting
all the same
its empty
its full
its smiles
its tears
heaven
hell
but only here
its a dream
but its too real

some kind of wonderful

lost and found

would he