Starry Messenger

decurro:

˙˙˙˙-22 (by ill_syntax)

(via thelastpapertiger)

Heading back to Charmouth by Meldrewman on Flickr.

(Source: jessgough, via easternbreezes)

tupac: Sunset at Blue Ridge Parkway

(via awakenthisspirit)

wanderlust-in-blue:

(Source: umnie, via the-foxes-burrow)

Looking towards Wrotham by davepatten on Flickr.

Roseberry Topping View #2 by cadab on Flickr.

woodendreams:

(by Haley Hyatt

(via fuckyeahhiking)

midnightmare:

(Source: tablesturnedagain40, via bellatrixloves)

lindasinklings:

(Source: hawaiiana-summer, via beautiful-portals)

Wintry Woodseats by keartona on Flickr.

But the other rooms [at Howards End] looked in keeping, though they conveyed the peculiar sadness of a rural interior. Here had lived an elder race, to which we look back with disquietude. The country which we visit at week-ends was really a home to it, and the graver sides of life, the deaths, the partings, the yearnings for love, have their deepest expression in the heart of the fields. All was not sadness. The sun was shining without. The thrush sang his two syllables on the budding guelder-rose. Some children were playing uproariously in heaps of golden straw. It was the presence of sadness at all that surprised Margaret, and ended by giving her a feeling of completeness. In these English farms, if anywhere, one might see life steadily and see it whole, group in one vision its transitoriness and its eternal youth, connect—connect without bitterness until all men are brothers.

—E.M. Forster: Howards End

Hilly Northumberland by keartona on Flickr.

(Source: twelfth-avenue, via zefluffandzestuff)

With songs and honors sounding loud,
Address the Lord on high;
Over the heav’ns He spreads His cloud,
And waters veil the sky.

He sends His showers of blessing down
To cheer the plains below;
He makes the grass the mountains crown,
And corn in valleys grow.

He sends His Word, and melts the snow,
The fields no longer mourn;
He calls the warmer gales to blow,
And bids the spring return.

The changing wind, the flying cloud,
Obey His mighty Word:
With songs and honors sounding loud,
Praise ye the sovereign Lord.

- Isaac Watts

(Source: horizontas, via allgreendreams)

(Source: un-disclosed, via ceyris)