Little tidbits of glory wrapped up in a single page.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Jesus Christ, I would commit murder for that Thus Spoke Zarathustra poster.
Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you- it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you… Hopefully, you leave something good behind.
Anthony Bourdain (via penseesduchoeur)
(Source: rainbowdevotchka)
^^^
My girlfriend does this to me…
(Source: barbaricman)
Death doesn’t exist. It never did, it never will. But we’ve drawn so many pictures of it, so many years, trying to pin it down, comprehend it, we’ve got to thinking of it as an entity, strangely alive and greedy. All it is, however, is a stopped watch, a loss, an end, a darkness. Nothing.
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
Rest in peace, Mr. Bradbury. My words cannot do justice to your incredibly influential life.
I met one of my musical idols tonight. He also asked myself, a friend of mine, and three other guys to harmonize with him during one of his songs. There are only a couple moments which trump how awesome it was to meet him and sing with him. Greg Laswell, you are the best.
The Lord of Light wants them burned. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?
Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones (S2E8)
Great question, Tyrion. Great question.
Flee from the dangers of sleeping in the arms of a witch; let her not hold you close to her. She will make you disregard the assemblies of the people and the words of the prince; you will refuse to eat and shun the company of other men, and you will feel sad when you go to your bed.
from the Norse Prose Edda (via spectralradiance) (via spectralradiance)
We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable.
Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things (via excessivebookshelf)
We conceive of the individual animal as a small world, existing for its own sake, by its own means. Every creature is its own reason to be. All its parts have a direct effect on one another, a relationship to one another, thereby constantly renewing the circle of life; thus we are justified in considering every animal physiologically perfect. Viewed from within, no part of the animal is a useless or arbitrary product of the formative impulse (as so often thought). Externally, some parts may seem useless because the inner coherence of the animal nature has given them this form without regard to outer circumstance. Thus…[not] the question, What are they for? but rather, Where do they come from?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Suhrkamp ed., vol 12, p. 121; trans. Douglas Miller, Scientific Studies (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
(Source: gifstyle)
(Source: cassiopeiatapiocapudding)
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Cassius, Julius Caesar (Act I, Scene II)
Be at peace, Son of Gondor
(Source: daaria)
