Venus Nightshade
"The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain." -Byron
 
 
 
He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

Friedrich Nietzsche 

(via ophidianorgy)

(Source: fridarocks)

 
 
 
 

electrikthunder:

Amazing stereographic drawings by Dain Fagerholm.

 
 
I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.
—William Faulkner, As I lay Dying
 
 
 
 

(Source: mountheavy)

 
 

amiquote:

Jacques Derrida on love and being

“The difference between the who and the what at the heart of love, separates the heart. It is often said that love is the movement of the heart. Does my heart move because I love someone who is an absolute singularity, or because I love the way that someone is? (…)

That is to say, the history of love, the heart of love, is divided between the who and the what. The question of Being, to return to philosophy - because the first question of philosophy is: What is it “to Be?” What is Being? The question of Being is itself always already divided between who and what. Is ‘Being’ someone or some thing? I speak of abstractly, but I think that whoever starts to love, is in love, or stops loving, is caught between this division of the who and the what. One wants to be true to someone - singularly, irreplaceably - and one perceives that this someone isn’t x or y. They didn’t have the qualities, properties, the images, that I thought I’d loved. So fidelity is threatened by the difference between the who and the what.”(tnx myserendipities)

 
 
Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat, but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.
John Steinbeck (via miketodd07, thirdworldgirl-)
 
 
Auld Lang Syne  by Robert Burns Should auld acquaintance be forgot,And never brought to mind?Should auld acquaintance be forgotAnd auld lang syne?Chorus:For auld lang syne, my dear,For auld lang syne,We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yetFor auld lang syne!We twa hae run about the braes,And pu’d the gowans fine,But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fitSin auld lang syne.We twa hae paidl’t in the burnFrae morning sun till dine,But seas between us braid hae roar’dSin auld lang syne.And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,And gie’s a hand o’ thine,And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waughtFor auld lang syne!And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stowp,And surely I’ll be mine,And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yetFor auld lang syne!

Auld Lang Syne  by Robert Burns

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne?

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit
Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl’t in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stowp,
And surely I’ll be mine,
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

 
 

“They want to buy books”

“But why me?  Why do they come to ME?”

“Because you sell books.”

“Oh, yeah.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
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