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#the secret history
celestialblissworld · 6 minutes ago
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"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it."
Donna Tartt ; The Secret History.
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celestialblissworld · 15 minutes ago
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"But isn't it also pain that often makes us most aware of self ?"
Donna Tartt, The Secret History.
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celestialblissworld · 17 minutes ago
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"It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from all the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one's own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us."
Donna Tartt ; The Secret History.
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booksandothersecrets · an hour ago
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Random things that I cannot stop thinking about:
“Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine”
“Yesterday I got so old, it made me want to cry”
“O teach me how I should forget to think”
“Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer”
“I declare that later on, even in a time unlike our own, someone will remember who we are”
“Give me a meaningful love or a beautiful death!”
“If I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?”
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oliverights · 2 hours ago
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“seize the day boys. make your lives extraordinary.”
- Robin Williams as Mr Keating
Dead Poets Society (1989, dir. Peter Weir)
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luiiul · 9 hours ago
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The picture of Camilla Macaulay and her dog that I've had in my head this whole year but for some reasons haven't draw earlier
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eclecticacademia · 9 hours ago
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Sometimes, when there's been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over.
— The Secret History, Donna Tartt
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emoish-ariel · 16 hours ago
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dong drugs, drinking excessively, stealing precious artwork are all things I am against, unless it's Boris Pavlikovsky and Theo Decker doing it
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deadpoetsnightt · 18 hours ago
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When we hug, our hearts touch through our chests, and I think that's beautiful.
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ofcitiesandhummingbirds · 22 hours ago
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You make my soul sing Now I’m left tossing and turning, a fever dream In ghost pain my body trembles At the thought of days where you might not be.
Like a fool, I’ve beared myself to you So carelessly, I’ve let you pry me open But I’ve never thrived on regrets And I can’t live with could-have-beens. Without you? Maybe, Though I wouldn’t dare to try.
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theasocialgothmoth · a day ago
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This is an Esterbrook, lever fill fountain pen. It used to be my great grandfather's so I would place it's age at around the 1950s. It writes like a dream. The felt at the bottom of the stand needs replacing. It fills just fine and as far as I can tell it doesn't leak.
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nstalgicnight · a day ago
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not to be dramatic but i would die for henry winter
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