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@fleurishwords.bsky.social
Flourish a garden in your soul, a world within your mind, love within your heart, and a home within your universe.
ㅤㅤArt will save us. Words are all my own.
ㅤㅤArt will save us. Words are all my own.
Pinned
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@fleurishwords.bsky.social
· Nov 18
May flowers bloom in the most desolate corners of the desert within your soul.
Allegory of Music, by François Boucher (1764). Oil on canvas.
December 11, 2024 at 11:23 PM
Allegory of Music, by François Boucher (1764). Oil on canvas.
Looking at the stars, but nothing compares to that twinkle in your eyes.
December 11, 2024 at 11:21 PM
Looking at the stars, but nothing compares to that twinkle in your eyes.
Tu me manques, comme la lune dans mon ciel noir,
Ton éclat brillait dans ma nuit la plus sombre.
Je t'aime plus que les étoiles dans le ciel,
Un amour éternel, aussi vaste que l'univers.
Ton éclat brillait dans ma nuit la plus sombre.
Je t'aime plus que les étoiles dans le ciel,
Un amour éternel, aussi vaste que l'univers.
December 11, 2024 at 11:19 PM
Tu me manques, comme la lune dans mon ciel noir,
Ton éclat brillait dans ma nuit la plus sombre.
Je t'aime plus que les étoiles dans le ciel,
Un amour éternel, aussi vaste que l'univers.
Ton éclat brillait dans ma nuit la plus sombre.
Je t'aime plus que les étoiles dans le ciel,
Un amour éternel, aussi vaste que l'univers.
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avait déclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu cette beauté
Que je lui vois ce matin,
Mais plus tard, elle se fanera.
—"Sonnet XVIII" Pierre de Ronsard.
Qui ce matin avait déclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu cette beauté
Que je lui vois ce matin,
Mais plus tard, elle se fanera.
—"Sonnet XVIII" Pierre de Ronsard.
December 11, 2024 at 11:18 PM
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avait déclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu cette beauté
Que je lui vois ce matin,
Mais plus tard, elle se fanera.
—"Sonnet XVIII" Pierre de Ronsard.
Qui ce matin avait déclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu cette beauté
Que je lui vois ce matin,
Mais plus tard, elle se fanera.
—"Sonnet XVIII" Pierre de Ronsard.
An everlasting love. They don’t need to fix you.
"True love appreciates your stillness. You don’t need to speak all the time to be understood."
fleurishwords.medium.com/loving-in-si...
"True love appreciates your stillness. You don’t need to speak all the time to be understood."
fleurishwords.medium.com/loving-in-si...
Loving in Silence, in Stillness
Everlasting love in quietude.
fleurishwords.medium.com
December 11, 2024 at 11:17 PM
An everlasting love. They don’t need to fix you.
"True love appreciates your stillness. You don’t need to speak all the time to be understood."
fleurishwords.medium.com/loving-in-si...
"True love appreciates your stillness. You don’t need to speak all the time to be understood."
fleurishwords.medium.com/loving-in-si...
Sonata of the soul,
its melody strings the heart,
a dreamy symphony,
dancing to your spirit’s beat.
its melody strings the heart,
a dreamy symphony,
dancing to your spirit’s beat.
November 25, 2024 at 9:49 AM
Sonata of the soul,
its melody strings the heart,
a dreamy symphony,
dancing to your spirit’s beat.
its melody strings the heart,
a dreamy symphony,
dancing to your spirit’s beat.
May your unquenchable thirst be calmed by heaven’s rivers, and your ravenous hunger sated by Eden’s ripest fruits.
November 24, 2024 at 10:26 AM
May your unquenchable thirst be calmed by heaven’s rivers, and your ravenous hunger sated by Eden’s ripest fruits.
Wait, I haven't finished reading Jane Austen's Lady Susan for the 102029th time.
November 18, 2024 at 3:43 PM
Wait, I haven't finished reading Jane Austen's Lady Susan for the 102029th time.
Yearningology 101 with Mr. Darcy, anyone?
November 18, 2024 at 3:42 PM
Yearningology 101 with Mr. Darcy, anyone?
Live as if each breath could be your last, work with passion, free from the weight of gold, and dance like no soul dares to behold.
November 18, 2024 at 12:16 AM
Live as if each breath could be your last, work with passion, free from the weight of gold, and dance like no soul dares to behold.
Yes, we do not speak of Kafka, Camus, Poe, and Dostoevsky aloud. Too relatable, I sit in shame, in dread.
November 18, 2024 at 12:15 AM
Yes, we do not speak of Kafka, Camus, Poe, and Dostoevsky aloud. Too relatable, I sit in shame, in dread.
When Beethoven composed Für Elise as a gift and watched the woman marry another man.
November 18, 2024 at 12:14 AM
When Beethoven composed Für Elise as a gift and watched the woman marry another man.
Physically, I’m here. Mentally, I’m a figure in a Renaissance painting, disgustingly fixated, gazing into my lover’s eyes with unbearable yearning.
November 18, 2024 at 12:12 AM
Physically, I’m here. Mentally, I’m a figure in a Renaissance painting, disgustingly fixated, gazing into my lover’s eyes with unbearable yearning.
May flowers bloom in the most desolate corners of the desert within your soul.
November 18, 2024 at 12:11 AM
May flowers bloom in the most desolate corners of the desert within your soul.