So dull and dark are the November days.
The lazy mist high up the evening curled,
And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze;
The place we occupy seems all the world.
John Clare, from “November” (via litverve)
If the doors of perception were cleansed
everything would appear to man as it is:
For man has closed himself up till he sees all things
through narrow chinks of his cavern.
William Blake (via fuckyeahwilliamblake)