One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.
— Sigmund Freud (Austrian neurologist; 1856-1939) via theriverjordyn
(Source: mbacani, via lajoiedespetiteschoses)
viadeiserpenti: ca 1887 Vincent van Gogh (Dutch, 1853-90) ~ Piles of French Novels and Roses in a Glass (“Romans Parisiens”)
(Source: berfrois, via madamescherzo)
vwcampervan-aldridge: Steps in the woods, Hartshill Country park, Nuneaton, Leicestershire, England [All Original Photography by http://vwcampervan-aldridge.tumblr.com]
horneddolphines: Tree Jumping
windypoplarsroom: Jan van Kessel (Flemish, 1626-79) ~ A Cockchafer, Beetle, Woodlice, and Other Insects, with a Sprig of Auricula
(Source: embracethevision, via lajoiedespetiteschoses)
(Source: togifs, via runrantanplan)
When young we are faithful to individuals, when older we grow loyal to situations and to types. — Cyril Connolly (English intellectual, literary critic, writer; 1903-74)
capngrimbeard: Tis a fine lookin’ blade in a most sinister kitchen wear sense! Nevertheless, someone draw steel against ye, no matter how pretty th’ blade, make sure ye ready t’ cut them down!
Petit: g’night, all xo sweetest dreams
aleyma: Marginal figure pulling over a block of text that was accidentally omitted from the main text. From a copy of The Regiment of Princes by Thomas Hoccleve, made in England, 1411-32 (source)
mostlycatsmostly: by haridelle
At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.
— Alberto Manguel (Argentine-born writer, translator, editor; 1948) via thelifeofabookjunky
(Source: gyclli, via hugsforbears)