Passionately curious

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse.


Particle Tracks On Film from the Fermilab Bubble Chamber.

(via crookedindifference)

It is difficult to be sat on all day, every day, by some other creature, without forming an opinion on them.

On the other hand, it is perfectly possible to sit all day, every day, on top of another creature and not have the slightest thought about them whatsoever.


Douglas Adams

this quote was literally in my sociology book 

(via marinashutup)


(via applejackismyhomegirl)

(via noragami-jones)

“There are people who read to anesthetize themselves—they read to induce a vivid, continuous, and risk-free daydream. They read for the same reason that people grab a glass of chardonnay—to put a light buzz on. The English major reads because, as rich as the one life he has may be, one life is not enough. He reads not to see the world through the eyes of other people but effectively to become other people.”

—   Mark Edmundson, The Ideal English Major (via datbombadil)

(via aliform)

(Source: ava--gardner, via noragami-jones)

Zoe Saldana for Latina Magazine by Yu Tsai

(Source: guardiansofthegalaxy, via suicideblonde)


Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, James Whistler


Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, James Whistler

(via legss)

(Source: northgang, via wickedmystery)

“I was on fire
and you used me
to light your cigarette”

—   dulldrops (via shakethecobwebs)

(Source: dulldrops, via noragami-jones)


Excerpt from Home by Clementine von Radics


Excerpt from Home by Clementine von Radics

(via clementinevonradics)

(Source: highpulp, via loveyourchaos)

When did we become so small and so apologetic? Why do we apologize for our humanity? Love what you love, and make no apologies. This is your identity. The most horrendous suspensions of freedom are self-imposed. We imprison ourselves daily, hourly.

We have one life, one shot at all the glorious things of life, and we walk about constricted, apologetic, afraid. We have so little time; we have so little space upon which to spread our love and our talents and our kindness. Run toward life fulsomely and freely.

It runs from us so quickly, like a frightened dog or youth or daylight. Chase it and care for it.

Of course art should be about something big. Something terribly big must be at stake. I don’t see this anymore. Our art is becoming terribly polite and apologetic, much like us. It slinks away like a sagging breast, empty of milk or promise or comfort.

We need to get very fervent again. We need to get jacked up.

—   Tennessee Williams (via hollywoodhepcat)

(Source: commovente, via bits-and-pisces)

Henry Gorse