It's just a spring clean for the May Queen

A gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruell markes of many' a bloudy fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:
//
But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as liuing euer him ador'd:

Ah Fae Queen, I see. Ah Edmund Spenser, I know.



Eve Incurs God's Displeasure, Marc Chagall


You are beautiful.



From the half open window.

You are beautiful.

In light of all this humor, how can one not believe?