12 Mar 14 at 9 pm

Peter O’Toole in What’s New Pussycat (1965)

(Source: jacquesdemys, via denisebefore)

09 Mar 14 at 3 pm


Future me.

(Source: kane52630, via homicidalbrunette)

"The moment you place someone on a pedestal they will look down upon you."



White privilege is your history being taught as a core class and mine being taught as an elective. 

please let them know.

(via grasshoppersprayatmidnight)

01 Mar 14 at 1 am

Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride (via helplesslyamazed)

Again Atwood just gets it.

(via walterbasedjamin)

(Source: courcel, via fypoetry)

"Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur."

01 Mar 14 at 1 am

Arabic Proverb (via psych-facts)

(via soulolution)

"افتح فمك فقط إن كان ما ستقوله أجمل من الصمت
Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than silence"

01 Mar 14 at 1 am

James Fenton, from In Paris With You (via violentwavesofemotion)

The ending is what gets you. 


Don’t talk to me of love. I’ve had an earful
And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
I am one of your talking wounded.
I am a hostage. I am maroonded.
But I am in Paris with you.

Yes, I am angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess that I’ve been through.
I admit I am on the rebound
And I don’t care where are we bound.
I am in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame
If we skip the champs Elysees
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this or that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There’s that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I am in Paris with you.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris.
I am in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I am in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I am in Paris with all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?

I am in Paris with you.


01 Mar 14 at 12 am

Herman Hesse, from Demian, trans. N. H. Priday (Boni & Liveright, 1923)

(Source: blackshivers, via apoetreflects)

"My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves"


Of You

You’ve been the wolf, you’ve been the bear,
you were the grass when I was air,
the hush of the lake, eyes and lips,
a shyness at my fingertips,

a motion that knew when to slow,
the forest where I always go;

and now you are the windowsill
I rest my elbows on until
the night grows dark and I can’t see
these silhouettes of you and me.

—Wendy Videlock

(via apoetreflects)