Little tidbits of glory wrapped up in a single page.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Be at peace, Son of Gondor
(Source: daaria)
“I have been in denial for some time, knowingly burning the candle at both ends and finding that it often gives a lovely light. But for precisely that reason, I can’t see myself smiting my brow with shock or hear myself whining about how it’s all so unfair: I have been taunting the Reaper into taking a free scythe in my direction and have now succumbed to something so predictable and banal that it bores even me. Rage would be beside the point for the same reason.”
— Rest in peace, Mr. Hitchens. You were a beautiful and brilliant man. I’m going to miss you terribly.
We lost a great man today.
Breaking: Author Christopher Hitchens dies at the age of 62
Love him or hate him, he was an incredible author unafraid to confront issues like his own mortality, politics, and morality. RIP, Mr. Hitchens.
Damn.
This is a great loss.
(Source: NPR)
(Source: ohhellosugar)
The most spiritual men, as the strongest, find their happiness where others would find their destruction: in the labyrinth, in hardness against themselves and others, in experiments. Their joy is self-conquest. Difficult tasks are a privilege to them; to play with burdens that crush others, a recreation. They are the most venerable kind of man: that does not preclude their being the most cheerful and the kindliest.
Friedrich Nietzche (via thouartgod)
(Source: human-voices)
(Source: drunkonstevphen)
People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.
You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.
Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.
You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.
The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever. The true life takes place when we’re alone, thinking, feeling, lost in memory, dreamingly self-aware, the submicroscopic moments.
Don DeLillo - Point Omega (via riotousheart)
My favorite band of all time is going on hiatus.
Life has no meaning.
Dead are all gods: now we want the overman to live.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
If you’re twenty-two, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel— as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them— wherever you go.
Anthony Bourdain via travel-bugg (via petitpoulailler)
This is what I should be doing with my life, sadly there is a great importance placed on schooling.
(via moderndayclassic)
(Source: emotional-algebra)
The Cŵn Annwn, found in ancient Welsh folklore, were spectral hounds thought to be associated the Annwn, the Otherworld of Welsh folklore. Annwn was, unlike most modern Otherworld myths, a land of delights and eternal youth beyond the imagination of mortal man.
The hounds were supposed to hunt only on specific nights of the year, roaming the Welsh countryside in packs. It was said that the hounds were louder at a distance, their growling and howling fading as the neared their target. At the moment they were no longer audible, it was said that your death was a certainty.
(I would humbly suggest to the reader that they make no attempt to pronounce the Welsh words here. It’s just embarrassing for everyone involved.)
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Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.
Mitch Albom (via kincadealex)
(Source: absentheart)
