110.

      I'm doing a "project" called Incidental Pictures that I will only be posting on my tumblr. It consists of photographs I take with my phone. All too frequently, I do not have a real camera on me but I can't seem to let the moment go by. It's more a diary than anything else. You can check it out here. 

109.

108.

I'll steal you, Johanna,I'll steal you.  
Do they think that walls could hide you?
Even now, I'm at your window.
I am in the dark beside you,
Buried sweetly in your yellow hair!
I feel you, Johanna,And one day I'll steal you
!Til I'm with you then,I'm with you there,
Sweetly buried in your yellow hair!
~Anthony, Sweeney Todd

Johanna

Sweeney  Todd

Macey Mayfeild

107.

“When one woman strikes at the heart of another, she seldom misses, and the wound is invariably fatal.” 

~Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons Dangereuses

Marquise de Merteuil

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

Annette Flores

106.

Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.

But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so.
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. 

~Helena

Helena

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Jenny Joslin

105.

"There is a willow grows aslant a brook, 

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; 

There with fantastic garlands did she come 

Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples 

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, 

But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: 

There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; 

When down her weedy trophies and herself 

Fell in the weeping brook. 

Her clothes spread wide; 

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: 

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; 

As one incapable of her own distress, 

Or like a creature native and indued 

Unto that element: but long it could not be 

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 

Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 

To muddy death."

~ Gertude

Ophelia

Hamlet

Ruthie Fish