Thursday, 21 June 2012

A Darkness of Light

To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us give the devil his due. 
~ Neil Gaiman, The Sandman: Season of Mists

In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard shame:
For since each hand hath put on Nature's power,
Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace.
Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,
Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem
At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
Sland'ring creation with a false esteem:
Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.
~William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXXVII

None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.
~Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat

Death: the Vertigo Tarot deck by Dave McKean
image from Comic Art Community
Song tank top, Seductions jeans, Converse shoes. Photos taken at Camp Hill Cemetary, Halifax. 

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