First thing we should do / if we see each other again is to make / a cage of our bodies—inside we can place / whatever still shines.
Nick Flynn, from “forgetting something” (via mitochondria)

markdoesstuff:

the-real-goddamazon:

bookishboi:

basedpidgeot:

janellacus:

jellysnack:

Australian cast of The Lion King sings on a plane.  Because actors are nerds no matter where they are.

Are tears what you wanted because that was fucking beautiful.

how are people just.. sat there

;lkj;sllllllldffffffffffggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *gross sobbing*

*ugly crying*

this is some spiritual shit oh my god

But sadness is also beautiful, maybe because it rings so true and goes so deep, because it is about the distances in our lives, the things we lose, the abyss between what the lover and the beloved want and imagine and understand that may widen to become unbridgeable at any moment, the distance between the hope at the outset and the eventual outcome, the journeys we have to travel, including the last one out of being and on past becoming into the unimaginable: the moth flown into the pure dark. Or the flame.
Rebecca Solnit, from The Faraway Nearby (Viking, 2013)

(Source: oncealoyallover)

Occasionally I’ll be sitting somewhere and I’ll be listening to someone perhaps not saying the kindest things about me. And I’ll look down at my hand and I’ll sort of pinch my skin to make sure it still has the requisite thickness I know Eleanor Roosevelt expects me to have.
Hillary Clinton (x)

(Source: audreyno)


charamath:

And here is the first compilation of my ‘Yzma is Best Princess’ series.  I meant to do it when I completed 10, but people wanted a compilation, apparently.  So here is the first 8.  It’s been a wild ride so far and I’ve still got several more to go >.>

Watercolors, ink and digital outline.

This is the best thing I have EVER seen. 

My husband, photographer Michael Nye, once photographed in a West Bank Palestinian refugee camp for days, and was followed around by a little girl who wanted to photograph her. FInally, he did — and she held up a stone with a poem etched into it. (This picture appears on the cover of my collection of poems, 19 Varieties of Gazelle — Poems of the Middle East). Through a translator, Michael understood that the poem was “her poem” — that’s what she called it. We urged my dad to translate the verse, which sounded vaguely familiar, but without checking roundly enough, we quoted the translation on the book flap and said she had written the verse. Quickly, angry scholars wrote to me pointing out that the verse was from a famous Darwish poem. I felt terrible.

I was meeting him for the first and last time the next week. Handing over the copy of the book sheepishly, I said: “Please forgive our mistake. If this book ever gets reprinted, I promise we will give the proper credit for the verse.” He stared closely at the picture. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Don’t correct it,” he said. “It is the goal of my life to write poems that are claimed by children.”


Naomi Shihab Nye, from her essay “Remembering Mahmoud Darwish” 

(via commovente)

I meant skies all empty aching blue. I meant
years. I meant all of them with you.

Kate Clanchy, from Patagonia (via violentwavesofemotion)

(Source: nurserywords)

41,725 plays

wtftimmy:

Foxes - Hold On We’re Going Home/The Monster (Cover)


(Source: anna-grrrl)

…I am the keeper of fragile things
and I have kept of you what is indissoluble.

Anaïs Nin, from House Of Incest (via easymomentsandobsession)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go.
John Muir (via theglasschild)

(Source: h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

One wants to tell a story, like Scheherezade, in order not to die. It’s one of the oldest urges in mankind. It’s a way of stalling death.
Carlos Fuentes (via booklover)

(Source: chcherrymilk)