- Norma Jeane -

"She will go on eternally."

August 7th / 6,811 notes

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Marilyn Monroe photographed by Milton Greene, 1956.
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The Misfits (1961)
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historiful:

“Her searches after knowledge were arbitrary and without context. It was as if she were shining a small flashlight of curiosity into the dark room of the world…” - Gloria Steinem, Marilyn (1988)

August 6th / 162 notes

August 6th / 28,256 notes

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missingmarilyn:


She didn’t find the little cottage and white picket fence; the three children and loving dog she sought. She loved the publicity and the attention she attracted, but she was not happy. She sank into the quicksand of Hollywood like many others have done, but placing blame for the inevitable is folly. I was surprised at her death. What a tragedy. Norma Jeane had a pure soul, and an immense love of life. She was kind and generous; loved children and animals and had a strong backbone—she almost single-handed made herself a world-renowned star and was so profound that I was almost afraid of her. To me she was like a dream and that is what she really was. Raising this past has brought melancholy to a very private part of my life and if Norma Jeane is looking down on all this, I hope she is smiling.

- Bill Pursel, Marilyn Monroe: Private and Confidential by Michelle Morgan
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Marilyn Monroe performing to the troops in Korea, February 1954.

August 5th / 947 notes

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missingmarilyn:


It seemed impossible to me that she was gone, just like that, with no warning. She’d been so alive, maybe too much so. Everything had been so heightened for her as she’d struggled so fiercely for the new life she’d dreamed of. I prayed for her and talked to her the way I had to Anne Frank years before, feeling crazy, but not caring, telling her I was grateful she’d been like a big sister to me, that I’d miss her, that it didn’t matter if she messed my room up…that I was sorry for being jealous, that I’d loved her…Finally, my heart pounding, my throat tight with held-in tears, I walked up the one hundred and twenty-two steep steps near my apartment to the Church of Santa Maria in Ara Coeli. I lit a candle for Marilyn at the thirteen-hundred-year-old Altar of Heaven. And then I lit dozens more, as if I could surround her with their pulsating, radiant light. I asked her for forgiveness for not really looking at her, not always hearing her. 

- Susan Strasberg, Marilyn And Me