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nolite te bastardes carborundorum

nolite te bastardes carborundorum

"Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.I like to work, read, learn, and understand life." -Langston Hughes

Want to know why

I always text the random boys who send me messages?
Because you’ve never made me feel secure enough about us to make me give them up.
Somehow their innocent small talk seems a million times more reassuring than your inability to commit to me.
If I can’t trust you (my most beloved comrade) to value me just as much as I do you, what is there to fear in a stranger?

….one of those long, romantic novels, six hundred and fifty pages of small print, translated from French or German or Hungarian or something — because few of the English ones have the exact feeling I mean. And you read one page of it or even one phrase of it, and then you gobble up all the rest and go about in a dream for weeks afterwards, for months afterwards — perhaps all your life, who knows? — surrounded by those six hundred and fifty pages, the houses, the streets, the snow, the river, the roses, the girls, the sun, the ladies’ dresses and the gentlemen’s voices, the old, wicked, hard-hearted women and the old, sad women, the waltz music — everything. What is not there you put in afterwards, for it is alive, this book, and it grows in your head. ‘The house I was living in when I read that book,’ you think, or ‘This colour reminds me of that book.

—Jean Rhys, Tigers are Better Looking (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: paperswallow, via thatkindofwoman)

Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.

Karen O

—The Moon Song

mrgolightly:

Karen O - The Moon Song

We are only here briefly, and in this moment I want to allow myself joy.

(Source: -motion, via -motion)

Director Spike Jonze actually has a cameo in Martin Scorsese’s tale of amoral Wall Street greed, popping up in the first act as a small-time broker who teaches Leonardo DiCaprio the ins and outs of penny stocks. “That happened because Ellen Lewis was the casting director for Her, and she also cast The Wolf of Wall Street,” Jonze explained to Vulture. “When we were auditioning people for our movie, I would often read with the people we were auditioning, and she called me up later and said, ‘Hey, you’re actually an okay actor! You want to come do this thing?’”

(Source: larsulrich)

gosly:

"The heart’s not like a box that gets filled up.  It expands in size the more you love."

Sometimes I think I’ve felt everything I’m ever gonna feel, and from here on out I’m not going to feel anything new, just lesser versions of what I’ve already felt.

(Source: srelectrico, via srelectrico)