It’s so true it hurts.
(Source: somethomas, via rokedbegeshem)
Justin and me on a day off.
(Source: bulbouscorm, via bohemea)
The latest from the series “Blank on Blank” by PBS Digital Studios: “Jim Morrison on Why Fat is Beautiful” http://to.pbs.org/ZpAz76
Loving this.
Seriously considering dreads. I long to cut my hair super short again and my good friend suggested I try dreads first. Once I’m tired of them, cut em off and, ta-da, short hair!
Decisions, decisions.
(Source: rauhan-of-jah)
The book-lover’s dilemma, via Rena Maguire
Going to The Last Bookstore today. Let’s see if I can get away with just one.
(Source: theparisreview, via booklover)
Lately I’ve been enjoying the night ride even though it gets bitter cold. All that brisk air rushing past my face gets my heart a-pumping, my blood rushing and, it’s cheesy, but damn if it doesn’t make me feel positively alive. There is something incredible and simple and sweet about riding a bike.
My Author and Disposer, what thou bidd’st
Unargu’d I obey; so God ordains,
God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more
Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise.
With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
When first on this delightful Land he spreads
His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow’r,
Glist’ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming-on
Of grateful Ev’ning mild, then silent Night
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
And these the Gems of Heav’n, her starry train:
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow’r,
Glist’rng with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering Starlight without thee is sweet.
But wherefore all night long shine these, for whom
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?
—Eve
John Milton, Paradise Lost. Book IV, Lines 635-658. (via mineral-spirits)
(Source: cottondandy)
“Sit perfectly still! Only I may dance!”
Stuff
