This is fun. Try it in fullscreen. Extra points if you tilt your head. You’re only human.

My face was literally this:


instant reblog omg

My heart was racing throughout the whole thing, with immediate goosebumps when it ended. #love


link for fullscreen

(Source: danforth, via for-the-love-of-classical-music)


Hayao Miyazaki - The wind rises, 2013

Leibniz was somewhat mean about money. When any young lady at the court of Hanover married, he used to give her what he called a “wedding present,” consisting of useful maxims, ending up with the advice not to give up washing now that she had secured a husband. History does not record whether the brides were grateful.
- Bertrand Russell, History of Western Philosophy

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
- Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath


Taxi Driver


Taxi Driver

No other life forms know they are alive, and neither do they know they will die. This is our curse alone.
- Thomas Ligotti, The Conspiracy Against the Human Race (via heresay)

(via heresay)

In speaking of depression and its defining effect of driving its victim to the point of caring nothing for anything, the American talk-show host Dick Cavett once remarked that “when you’re downed by this affliction, if there were a curative magic wand on the table eight feet away, it would be too much trouble to go over and pick it up.” No better elucidation has ever been proffered vis-à-vis the uselessness of reason in the absence of emotion. In the recumbence of depression, your information-gathering system collates its intelligence and reports to you these facts: (1) there is nothing to do; (2) there is nowhere to go; (3) there is nothing to be; (4) there is no one to know. Without meaning-charged emotions keeping your brain on the straight and narrow, you would lose your balance and fall into an abyss of lucidity. And for a conscious being, lucidity is a cocktail without ingredients, a crystal clear concoction that will leave you hung over with reality. In perfect knowledge there is only perfect nothingness, which is perfectly painful if what you want is meaning in your life.
- Thomas Ligotti, The Conspiracy against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror (via ludimagister)

What is in all this beauty for me when every minute, every second I am obliged, forced to know that even this tiny gnat, buzzing near me in the sunlight now, is taking part in all this banquet and chorus, knows its place in it, loves it, and is happy, and I alone am an outcast.
- Fyodor Dostoevsky || The Idiot (via socratic-thinker)

(Source: whyallcaps.us, via blacktout)

Lord Byron, no.
- Everyone who knew him, probably (via fyeahgothicromance)

(Source: reginaldshoe, via spookyabuki)

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe, from “A Dream Within a Dream” (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via strange-to-be-anything-at-all)

(Source: felixsturner, via maderilien)

I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.
- A Self-Portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton (via mirroir)

(Source: estrangera, via mirroir)

  • the oresteia: well that aeschylated quickly

So often, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me and reminded me that there are good things in the world.
- Vincent Van Gogh  (via oiseauperdu)

(Source: littledallilasbookshelf, via persephones)