The Italian author Giacomo Leopardi did not find the preparations horrifying either. In his ‘Dialogue of Frederick Ruysch and His Mummies’, Ruysch is awakened at midnight by his cadavers, who have come to life in his studio and are singing in chorus. Ruysch, watching through a crack in the door, exclaims, ‘Good heavens! Who on earth taught music to these dead people, who are crowing like roosters in the middle of the night? I’m in a cold sweat and almost more dead than they are. I didn’t realize that just because I saved them from decay they would come back to life.’ He then enters his studio and says, ‘Children, what kind of game are you playing? Have you forgotten that you’re dead? What’s this racket all about? Has the tsar’s visit gone to your head?’ One of the dead tells Ruysch that they can speak for a quarter of an hour, so he asks them for a brief description of what they felt when they were at death’s door. They assure him that dying is like falling asleep, like a dissolving of consciousness, and not at all painful. They declare that death, the fate of all living things, has brought them peace. For them, life is but a memory, and although they are not happy, at least they are free of old sorrows and fears. - “Frederik Ruysch: The Artist of Death”

ancientart:

Three ancient Roman keys found during excavations at Cambourne in Cambridgeshire. The site produced a wealth of Roman domestic items like these keys, such as tweezers, cutlery, brooches and pins -mainly dating to the 4th century.

Courtesy Wessex Archaeology.

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Very occasionally, a string of lyrics will appear in a big, sometimes upsetting rush. But usually, I’ll have little pieces of lyrical content and then I will have to build the retaining wall of the song out of these little pieces of lyrical gravel. Even when four bars of lyrics come to me, or eight bars, which would feel like a total windfall, when it’s time to write the song I’ll still have tiny phrases that I have to take in somewhere. You know when you’re little and you’re watching archeologists put together the dinosaur on TV? It’s like that. THE RUMPUS INTERVIEW WITH DESSA - The Rumpus.net
Joseph Cornell (1903-1972)
L’Egypte de Mlle Cleo de Merode: cours elementaire d¹Histoire Naturelle
1940

Joseph Cornell (1903-1972)
L’Egypte de Mlle Cleo de Merode: cours elementaire d¹Histoire Naturelle
1940

stilllifequickheart:

Rory McEwen
Tulip Petal II
1978 Cite Arrow reblogged from stilllifequickheart
soyouthinkyoucansee:

 Soyouthinkyoucansee
Ring, Laurits Andersen (1854-1933) - 1898
At Breakfast with the Newspaper (National Museum, Stockholm, Sweden)Danish symbolism.  1898

soyouthinkyoucansee:

 Soyouthinkyoucansee

Ring, Laurits Andersen (1854-1933) - 1898

At Breakfast with the Newspaper (National Museum, Stockholm, Sweden)

Danish symbolism.  1898

Cite Arrow reblogged from centuriespast
nevver:

The Flapper
Cite Arrow reblogged from learningfromthehands
sherunslunatic:

“The sleep of reason produces monsters.”

sherunslunatic:

“The sleep of reason produces monsters.”

Cite Arrow reblogged from roaringgirl1564
artdetails:

Detail of Caravaggio’s Sacrifice of Isaac (1603)

artdetails:

Detail of Caravaggio’s Sacrifice of Isaac (1603)

Cite Arrow reblogged from artdetails
missfolly:

Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace. The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof shield me from out the prease Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw: O make in me those civil wars to cease; I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light, A rosy garland and a weary head; And if these things, as being thine by right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see.
Sir Philip Sidney, ‘Sleep’
Painting: Under the Patchwork Quilt by William Peter Watson, undated

missfolly:

Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace. 
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, 
The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, 
Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; 
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease 
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw: 
O make in me those civil wars to cease; 
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. 
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 
A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light, 
A rosy garland and a weary head; 
And if these things, as being thine by right, 
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, 
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see.

Sir Philip Sidney, ‘Sleep’

Painting: Under the Patchwork Quilt by William Peter Watson, undated

Cite Arrow reblogged from missfolly