Reader. Dreamer. Person.
I live & breathe books and delve into films of wonder and splendour.
Music is oxygen. Family is everything.
Love comes slowly, wondrously.
Life is simple, beautiful.
The world is an art.
EMBRACE YOUR INNER LUNATIC. FUN TIMES GUARANTEED.
it is the q u a l i t y of ones convictions that determines success,
not the number of followers.
LOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT THIS, MEN WHO DO THIS, AND FEEL FOOLISH
The amount of questions Bastille asks in thier songs really stresses me out
are you gonna age with grace? do you like the person you’ve become? can you fill the silence? how am i gonna be an optimist? how am i gonna get myself home?
like idk dan you figure it out
This appeared on my dash as I was listening to Bad Blood, right on the lyric ‘how were we to know?’ Like that’s some professor x shit right there
My attitude towards politics and society is constantly “angry but unsurprised”
1 universe, 9 planets, 7 seas, 7 continents, 809 islands, 204 countries, and I had the unfortunate luck of meeting u
THERE ARE 8 PLANETS, YOU UNCULTURED SWINE.
VIVA LA PLUTO FUCK YOU
I’m pretty sure “Viva la Pluto fuck you” is the best sentence I’ve heard all week.
DID THE PERCY JACKSON FANDOM JUST HIGHJACK A POST???
- book one: professor mcgonnagal and the you put a WHAT in our WHERE albus
- book two: professor mcgonnagal and the we have a WHAT IN OUR WHERE ALBUS
- book three: professor mcgonnagal and the ministry is sending us WHAT because of WHO
- book four: professor mcgonnagal and the ARE YOU SHITTING ME ALBUS
- book five: professor mcgonnagal and the we have WHO telling us to do WHAT
- book six: professor mcgonnagal and the albus do something NO NOT THAT
- book seven: professor mcgonnagal and the I FINALLY GET TO BLOW SHIT UP THANK YOU WIZARD GOD
*breaks into j k rowling’s house in the middle of the night* no it’s okay i’m not here to steal anything i just think we need to talk about harry naming one of his kids after snape
No one before Bernini had managed to make marble so carnal. In his nimble hands it would flatter and stream, quiver and sweat. His figures weep and shout, their torses twist and run, and arch themselves in spasms of intense sensation. He could, like an alchemist, change one material into another - marble into trees, leaves, hair, and, of course, flesh.
- Simon Schama’s Power of Art. Bernini