The Infinite Variety

About the author

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish."

with love: xo, l&w and prof

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thecupcaketologist:

Right now it’s just the sand, the sea, my Hemingway and me.

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