http://persephonesdarkness.tumblr.com/post/180493026094/audio_player_iframe/persephonesdarkness/tumblr_pcstroE7831qma63n?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_pcstroE7831qma63no1.mp3

onceuponamirror:

bassiter:

Clair De Lune by Claude Debussy except you’re exploring a supposedly haunted cave at night, and it seems to just start playing somewhere in the depths. As you head toward the source of the music and as it gets louder, you begin to hear whispers.


http://persephonesdarkness.tumblr.com/post/179999285444/audio_player_iframe/persephonesdarkness/tumblr_mz3qt9cORe1s00wl1?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tumblr.com%2Faudio_file%2Fpersephonesdarkness%2F179999285444%2Ftumblr_mz3qt9cORe1s00wl1

szopen:

And the Waltz Goes On ” by Anthony Hopkins interpreted by Andre Rieu and the Johann Strauss Orchestra

qualcooono:

E il cielo piano piano qua diventa trasparente

Il sole illumina le debolezze della gente

Una lacrima salata bagna la mia guancia mentre

Lei con la mano mi accarezza in viso dolcemente

Col sangue sulle mani scalerò tutte le vette

Voglio arrivare dove l’occhio umano si interrompe

Per imparare a perdonare tutte le mie colpe

Perché anche gli angeli, a volte, han paura della morte

Che mi è rimasto un foglio in mano e mezza sigaretta

Corriamo via da chi c’ha troppa sete di vendetta

Da questa Terra ferma perché ormai la sento stretta;

Ieri ero quiete perché oggi sarò la tempesta

declanlynch:

A Night At the Opera: a two part playlist that keeps on updating. 

Listen: Part I | Instrumental                           

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 

Listen: Part II | Opera 

‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.  

                                                                          – A Thing Of Beauty by John Keats