Photo of Qiu Jin.
‘Don’t speak of how women can’t become heroes:
alone, I rode the winds eastward, for ten thousand leagues.
My poetic ponderings expanded, a sail between sky and sea…’ ~ Qiu Jin for #InternationalWomensDay
Photo of Gwendolyn Brooks in front of a typewriter and books behind her.
‘Oh open, apostolic height! And tell my humbug how to start Bird balance, bleach: make miniature
Valhalla of my heart.’ ~
Gwendolyn Brooks for #InternationalWomensDay
Photo of statue of Leona Florentino.
‘My fate is dim, my stars so low
perhaps nothing to it can compare,
for truly I do not doubt
for presently I suffer so.’ ~ Leona Florentino for #InternationalWomensDay
Portrait of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz in nun’s habit with books behind her.
‘Love opened a mortal wound.
In agony, I worked the blade
to make it deeper. Please,
I begged, let death come quick.
Wild, distracted, sick,
I counted, counted
all the ways love hurt me.
One life, I thought—a thousand deaths’ ~ Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz for #InternationalWomensDay
Picture of 'God' in a church, extending his hand. Then, another picture of a cat doing the same thing, but then with beautiful toebeans.
When art imitates reality.
Bustopher Jones seated at a linen covered table with knife and fork in hand being served by a waiter appraising sign a tray of food, behind him is a column with a cat statue on top. Illustration.
‘When he's seen in a hurry there's probably curry
At the Siamese—or at the Glutton;
If he looks full of gloom then he's lunched at the Tomb
On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton’ ~Eliot, Bustopher Jones.
@racheldeering.bsky.social here for rogues, the mischievous for Frodo. 🖤
🖼️ Gorey, Bustopher Jones
Painting by Gustave Courbet. Stormy sea. Greenish waves. Rocks. Cloudy sky
'Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine!'
-Alexandre Dumas
#BookWormSat
The Bear asleep beside me holding my hand. Photo
This is what #Caturdays are for.
"He calls at the castle and, by pretending to doubt the ogre’s magic powers, he induces him to change himself first into a lion
and then into a mouse, whereupon he falls upon him and eats him up" (after Perrault)
🎨 Rackham (1913)
#bookwormsat #goldenageofillustration #booksky #bookillustration
#readthepoem
Thank you for ruining this tribute to a beloved pet....
very empathic of you....
#don´t make everything about that clown.......
sigh indeed.....
Behemoth, the cat, sipping on some liquor while seated in a green chair
“You're not Dostoevsky,' said she, getting muddled by Koroviev. Well, who knows,' he replied.
'Dostoevsky's dead,' she said, but not very confidently.
'I protest!' Behemoth exclaimed hotly. 'Dostoevsky is immortal!”
― M Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita
Art by Anastastasia Evgrafova
#bookwormsat
Picture of Frodo. Tuxedo cat looking majestic in the garden with his stunning whiskers.
I wanted to write a text for him, but the tears are still too many. My little hobgoblin was there for me during the worst and best periods of my life. Through years of uncertainty, he was my only certainty, and oh dear... did he love mischief!
@signemaene.com welcomes you to #BookWormSat.
“A Miller lay dying, he made his last will; He left his three sons his cat, ass, and mill: To the eldest the mill, to the second the ass; The third had the cat, and he cried out, "Alas! I must starve now, unless I take Pussy to eat!"
(Sarah Catherine Martin)
#bookwormsat #goldenageofillustration
Photo of dear Frodo, a beautiful, well-whiskered tuxedo cat, looking a little roguish perched on a shelf.
Tomorrow, our theme for #BookWormSat will be mischief-makers, rogues and antiheroes in literature to mark the incredibly sad and untimely passing of @signemaene.com’s beloved Frodo. He was much loved. We hope you’ll join us to honour this mischievous and charismatic, impressively whiskered soul. 1/2
Today, would have been his eleventh birthday. 💔
Black white illustration of Scotland Yard looking for Macavity, the mystery cat, with flashlights. The cat is flying through the night sky. Full moon.
'Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!'
-T.S. Eliot
🎨Edward Gorey
#BookWormSat
Oh the Magical Liopleurodon is intrigued, but assures me it has never played any of such games before. You would have to teach him. Yes, never before.
Wink wink, nudge nudge.
But better watch out, or the Magical Liopleurodon will take your kidney.
Ah but you see, she is special. It works as it does with antlers.
She has lived to see her fourth mast!
It's not a bee, it's not a bee.
I'm a crustacean from the Isle of Jamaican(s) singing under the North sea.
About a llama unicorn, Flemish hat wearer born.
It's the Jamaican super crustacean in the North Sea.
Half llama, half Flemish, half wehairing a boat.
But with the gulf stream ending, a Jamaican Crustacean can delight us with songs about it.
Orrr, building on the latest information....
Unicorn llamas going to Candy Mountain!!!!!
Oe, horns would work well with hats!
Yes, yes they will. I'm sure of it
At least,... At least if there's still room for the hats.
I do hope no squirrel with an acorn fixation comes along to ruin the whole ordeal though.
By Grace of Titania we were able to dodge all the obstacles expectorated in our general direction, and with pure disregard for our own safety, were able to capture the essence of this illusive yet magnificent beast unto the picture here beholden.
Picture of myself wearing a handmade skirt. Snow. Green field.
Picture of the back of the skirt with a bow. It's a grey bluish skirt with white plants, purple and brown.
Picture of the front of the skirt with pockets. Gathered.
Picture of me wearing a handmade skirt. Snow. Green field.
The first skirt I sewed without any help and I'm so pleased with it! :-)
Art by Arthur Wilde Parsons. Painting of a witch with a pointy hat flying through the night on a broomstick. Full moon. Cloudy, purple sky.
In a Flemish folktale, a fearless man once thought he could chase away witches with a cudgel. The witches had other plans.
Read the story here 👇
signe.substack.com/p/the-night-...
If the world of witches speaks to you, and if you have ever wanted to help give a voice to forgotten witches... see the link! :-)
www.kickstarter.com/projects/sig...
