Imagine a city where graffiti wasn’t illegal, a city where everybody could draw...– Banksy, Wall and Piece (via justinamoafo)
Time Team is on, and I am so happy. In my head, my fantasy of being Indiana Jones has resumed.
Every language has its own version of um. French has euh, Korean eum, Finnish...– Read the full text here: http://mentalfloss.com/article/50173/when-and-why-did-people-start-saying-um-when-they-talk#ixzz2R13HfDuP —brought to you by mental_floss! (via mjlogue)
when I try to express, to speak, the words get caught somewhere in the vicinity of my lungs. they lodge there, like small stones, or small knots, that I must breathe around. when they are denied the freedom of statement, of being said, the intent - the emotion - beyond them, seems to crawl up my throat. it settles there, swells, prevents clear speech. and all I am left with, is muffled...
Both the Refugee Convention and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights...– UNHCR Spokesperson (via harrisjaden)
I wish I wrote the way I thought Obsessively Incessantly With maddening...– Benedict Smith / “I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought” (via thicklet)
I. our kiss is a secret handshake, a password. we love like spies, like...– “This Is The Nonsense Of Love” by Mindy Nettifee (via mentalexotica)
Goodbye, said the fox. And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is...– Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (via farewell-kingdom)
But I don’t want to go among mad people,” said Alice. “Oh, you can’t help that,”...– Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (via farewell-kingdom)
Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to...– Charles Bukowski (via razorshapes)
Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems, I love poems. Ravish me with your...– Anne Boleyn (via larmoyante)
You can’t be this afraid of losing everything if you don’t love everything...– Catalina Ferro (x) I love this poem (via myasuoka)
In that not quite drunk state, in that land of tipsy turvy, where thoughts are languid creatures who act as they wont and my mind is surrounded (eclipsed) by the fog of sound that is my struggling laptop. My tongue is a sloth, is limp, is a reflection of the lack of being, by the quiet that has sunk deep into my bones. The quiet will not relinquish me.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you...– Haruki Murakami (via razorshapes)
I want to write you poems on post-it notes that way losing can be a metaphor...– M. Yasuoka (via myasuoka)
Considering yourself a serious reader doesn’t mean you can’t read light books....– Lauren Leto, Judging a Book by Its Lover (via kgillsrpc)
Richard Brody on why “The Great Gatsby” endures →
The next time we want to run the race toward closure, to be the first to tweet...– Maria Konnikova explains why human beings quickly seek closure in a crisis, and what we can learn from the misinformation that plagued professional news outlets during the Boston bombings (via newyorker)