gingerten:

starrysleeper:

welcome-foolishmortals:

I HAVEN’T LAUGHED THIS HARD IN THREE YEARS I AM HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTCK

My entire body aches from laughing so hard

I aM PISSING

(Source: padfootvioletstilinski, via lordtaylor)

(Source: clarissagoyle)

100
mimbeau:

"Le Tabou" St Germain des Prés
Paris 1947
Robert Doisneau

mimbeau:

"Le Tabou" St Germain des Prés

Paris 1947

Robert Doisneau

72
oldworldwisdom:

 I haven’t had any adventures. Things have happened to me,   events, incidents, anything you like. But not adventures. It isn’t a   matter of words; I am beginning to understand. There is something I   longed for more than all the rest - without realizing it properly. It   wasn’t love, heaven forbid, nor glory, nor wealth. It was… anyway, I   had imagined that at certain moments my life could take on a rare and   precious quality. There was no need for extraordinary circumstances: all   I asked for was a little order. There is nothing very splendid about  my  life at present: but now and then, for example when they played  music  at cafés, I would look back and say to myself: in the old days,  in  London, Meknès, Tokyo, I have known wonderful moments, I have had   adventures. It is that which has been taken away from me now. I have   just learnt, all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, that I have been   lying to myself for ten years. Adventures are in books. And naturally,   everything they tell you about in books can happen in real life, but not   in the same way. It was to this way of happening that I attached so   much importance. First of all the beginnings would have had to  be real beginnings. Alas!  Now I can see so clearly what I wanted. Real  beginnings, appearing like a  fanfare of trumpets, like the first notes  of a jazz tune, abruptly,  cutting boredom short, strengthening  duration; evenings among those  evenings of which you later say: ‘I was  out walking, it was an evening  in May.’ You are walking along, the moon  has just risen, you feel idle,  vacant, a little empty. And then all of  a sudden you think: ‘Something  has happened.’ It might be anything: a  slight crackling sound in the  shadows, a fleeting silhouette crossing  the street, But this slight  event isn’t like the others: straight away  you see that it is the  predecessor of a great form whose outlines are  lost in the mist and you  tell yourself too: ‘Something is beginning.’ Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn’t let itself be   extended; it achieves significance only through its death. Towards this   death, which may also be my own, I am drawn irrevocably. Each moment   appears only to bring on the moments after. To each moment I cling with   all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable - and yet I would   not lift a finger to prevent it from being annihilated. The last  minute I  am spending - in Berlin, in London - in the arms of this woman  whom I  met two days ago - a minute I love passionately, a woman I am  close to  loving - it is going to come to an end, I know that. In a  little while I  shall leave for another country. I shall never find this  woman again or  this night. I study each second, I try to suck it dry;  nothing passes  which I do not seize, which I do not fix forever within  me, nothing,  neither the ephemeral tenderness of these lovely eyes, nor  the noises in  the street, nor the false light of dawn: and yet the  minute goes by and  I do not hold it back, I am glad to see it pass.
- Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

oldworldwisdom:


I haven’t had any adventures. Things have happened to me, events, incidents, anything you like. But not adventures. It isn’t a matter of words; I am beginning to understand. There is something I longed for more than all the rest - without realizing it properly. It wasn’t love, heaven forbid, nor glory, nor wealth. It was… anyway, I had imagined that at certain moments my life could take on a rare and precious quality. There was no need for extraordinary circumstances: all I asked for was a little order. There is nothing very splendid about my life at present: but now and then, for example when they played music at cafés, I would look back and say to myself: in the old days, in London, Meknès, Tokyo, I have known wonderful moments, I have had adventures. It is that which has been taken away from me now. I have just learnt, all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, that I have been lying to myself for ten years. Adventures are in books. And naturally, everything they tell you about in books can happen in real life, but not in the same way. It was to this way of happening that I attached so much importance.

First of all the beginnings would have had to be real beginnings. Alas! Now I can see so clearly what I wanted. Real beginnings, appearing like a fanfare of trumpets, like the first notes of a jazz tune, abruptly, cutting boredom short, strengthening duration; evenings among those evenings of which you later say: ‘I was out walking, it was an evening in May.’ You are walking along, the moon has just risen, you feel idle, vacant, a little empty. And then all of a sudden you think: ‘Something has happened.’ It might be anything: a slight crackling sound in the shadows, a fleeting silhouette crossing the street, But this slight event isn’t like the others: straight away you see that it is the predecessor of a great form whose outlines are lost in the mist and you tell yourself too: ‘Something is beginning.’

Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn’t let itself be extended; it achieves significance only through its death. Towards this death, which may also be my own, I am drawn irrevocably. Each moment appears only to bring on the moments after. To each moment I cling with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable - and yet I would not lift a finger to prevent it from being annihilated. The last minute I am spending - in Berlin, in London - in the arms of this woman whom I met two days ago - a minute I love passionately, a woman I am close to loving - it is going to come to an end, I know that. In a little while I shall leave for another country. I shall never find this woman again or this night. I study each second, I try to suck it dry; nothing passes which I do not seize, which I do not fix forever within me, nothing, neither the ephemeral tenderness of these lovely eyes, nor the noises in the street, nor the false light of dawn: and yet the minute goes by and I do not hold it back, I am glad to see it pass.

- Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

14
laclefdescoeurs:

Interior with Mirror and Fireplace, Ethel Sands

laclefdescoeurs:

Interior with Mirror and Fireplace, Ethel Sands

51

The Property Room by Arthur Hughes, 1879

The Property Room by Arthur Hughes, 1879

(Source: cybertronian)

63
stilllifequickheart:

Page H. Laughlin
Mirror, Mirror
2000

stilllifequickheart:

Page H. Laughlin

Mirror, Mirror

2000

57
artofobsession:

A gif of progress shots.
I’m working on a painting of Tom Hiddleston.

artofobsession:

A gif of progress shots.

I’m working on a painting of Tom Hiddleston.

71
dancing-shadow:

The Dancer in Her Dressing Room by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1885

dancing-shadow:

The Dancer in Her Dressing Room by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1885

123
dancing-shadow:

The Dancer in Her Dressing Room by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1885

dancing-shadow:

The Dancer in Her Dressing Room by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1885

123

(Source: versaillesadness)

snowflyer:

bowtieblackbird:

I found this at the supermarket today.

guys you don’t understand it says “VERY TINY FISH” and i’m crying

snowflyer:

bowtieblackbird:

I found this at the supermarket today.

guys you don’t understand it says “VERY TINY FISH” and i’m crying

(via astock)


Ethiopian Welo Opal New gem found looks like the ocean in rock

Ethiopian Welo Opal New gem found looks like the ocean in rock

(Source: stunningpicture, via change-is-good-sometimes)

earthandanimals:

iphotographlove:

aiminghigherthanb4:

luanlegacy:

dannymrowr:

monkeysaysficus:

hiddenlex:

Knowing that he wouldn’t be there for her wedding, a terminally ill father walked his 11-year-old down the ‘aisle’ years early with the pastor sweetly pronouncing them ‘daddy and daughter’.

Jim Zetz, 62, from Murrieta, California, who has stage 4 pancreatic cancer, proudly held his daughter, Josie’s hand during their backyard ceremony on March 14 and placed a sparkling ring on her index finger.” 

JESUS CRISTOS :’(

Omg this is the saddest thing in the world.

i cry a thousand tears

This is the only post on Tumblr that I have ever shed tears for.

5 seconds in and i am crying like a baby

I really really wish my Dad and I had done this. :(

(Source: englishsnow, via earthandanimals)