oh wtf else have i been missing in 2009
the second most fucked up part of the folgers incest commercial is the brother is coming home from africa and his reaction to the folgers is "finally, real coffee"
37K notes · View notes
“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy.”
— C. JoyBell C.
2K notes · View notes
the did-you-come-yets of the western world,
the feather and fin rufflers.
Pity for them they have no wisdom.
Others will bite at any bait.
Maggot, suspender, or dead worm.
Throw them to the sharks.
In time one will crawl
out from under thigh-land.
Although drowning he will say,
‘Woman I am terrified, why is this house
And you’ll know he’s the one.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
Pablo Neruda, “One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII” from The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems
1 note · View note
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to
Though the sword hidden among his
pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he
crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and
caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred
fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your
heart, and in that knowledge become a
fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only
love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover
your nakedness and pass out of love’s
Into the seasonless world where you
shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes
naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am
in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course
of love, for love, if it finds you worthy,
directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil
But if you love and must needs have
desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own under-
standing of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate
To return home at eventide with grati-
And then to sleep with a prayer for the
beloved in your heart and a song of praise
upon your lips.
1 note · View note
It had been ten years—ten long years since she had heard her mother’s voice. But she heard it then over the force of her weeping, as clear as if she knelt beside her.
Fireheart—why do you cry?
“Because I am lost,” she whispered onto the earth. “And I do not know the way.”
4 notes · View notes
i was thinking about the two of us together, and then about myself again. i was at that age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back like a boomerang , to me. and worse, i was in love.
- MURAKAMI , norwegian wood
1 note · View note
i can't re start my life , but i can start a new instagram account and sadly, sometimes that feels like the same thing.
the real tragedy of the hunger games is that peeta mellark will never be himself again
4 notes · View notes
Is the vaccine safe enough to get?
You're statistically more likely to die at a gender reveal party
110K notes · View notes
Sometime in middle school i picked up my first novel and i learnt how to fly.
4 notes · View notes
he walks out of the night, from somewhere in the house where he had been lingering. how long had he been here for ? did anyone hear me scream ? i doubt it ,the rain is too loud, the old lady who lives in the house to our right is almost deaf and lives alone and to the other side lives a man who works in the committee. is he home yet? will he come to save me from this stranger?
the intruder is a…
View On WordPress
i've read 12 books in May, twelve complete books. it sounds so spectacularly stand offish that even i have a hard time believing i've done it. but i have, and at every moment since i started reading again, i have felt this void in me, this addiction, this unattached puzzle piece that requires new and varied words to come and fit in , to complete me.
i've breathed in the smell of books for this whole month , so much so that now nothing smells as good. food and water and air fall out of consequence somehow when the mind is wrapped into something so good. so comforting.
i read the entire court of thorns and roses collection from ACOTAR to ACOSF (if you know you know.). i read the first throne of glass book, the first 2 books of the red queen series, metamorphosis by franz kafka , the outsiders and the 14th re reading of pride and prejudice.
my tastes are varied and fantastical at the same time, i know. i don't read for the knowledge in it, or the enrichment it brings to the tongue. i read because there is no better way to escape the mind. to escape the walls inside you that close in every moment you stay still ; the ones that you push back with art and music and poetry and literature. because , as the dead poet's society has taught me, those are the things we live for.
and romance. how i have been starved these last three years when i paused my reading habit. romance is an art in itself , one that many authors can weave into books . but some, make their words jump out of pages and embed into your soul like one of those mating bonds that SJMaas loves . golden threads from me entangling with those of fictional people in books, forming attachments and making changes within myself and around me.
at the end of this experience, i do not dare acknowledge how much i have been altered. i will try though - i feel like my heart , after such a long time, is weightless. everything i say feels poetic to me, my every thought dances with flames and rolls like waves at the same time.
i feel heat altered, cage protected and yet so , so free.
and today i write this, for myself. for the future me to read this and remember what it felt like to completely surrender yourself to books and become something more. something you love.
today i write this to tell myself to read even more and deeply.
there is another life to be found in pages. so many other lives.
2 notes · View notes
Who will be lost in the story we tell ourselves? Who will be lost in ourselves? A story, after all, is a kind of swallowing. To open a mouth, in speech, is to leave only the bones, which remain untold.
Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
41 notes · View notes
word salad stan
shoutout to people who make zero sense. just speaking with absolute word salad that's incomprehensible to anyone else.
10K notes · View notes
“Over a million? A million books?” Her heart leapt and danced, and she cracked a smile. “I’d die before I even got through half of that!” “You like to read?” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”
the story of my life.
7 notes · View notes
at any given moment, the only difference between two people is of entitlement