It’s okay,’ you know? It’s okay to be you. It’s okay to just not be okay. It’s okay to not be okay.
(via inthelandofkristen)
(via madeofglass-)
Chris Hemsworth braves the rain after enjoying dinner at the Bumpkin restaurant in Notting Hill. The hunky actor even posed with a fan before heading home on Monday night, April 9.
(via brokenheartedfestivities)
Malcolm T Liepke (born 1953) American, attended the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena and has, in the last decade, established himself as a leading contributor in today’s resurgence of figurative painting. Bold brushstrokes, rich buttery surfaces and most importantly, the timeless humanity of his classically inspired imagery have been heralded in successful one-man exhibitions around the world. Mr. Liepke’ works are in the collections of both the Brooklyn Museum and the Smithsonian Museum, as well as many prestigious private collections.
(via brokenheartedfestivities)
(Source: aplacethatdoesntknowmyname, via lucy-vanpelt)
A British soldier “shakes hands” with a kitten on a snowy bank, Neulette, 1917.
(via totundra)
"
Physics says: go to sleep. Of course
you’re tired. Every atom in you
has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes
nonstop from mitosis to now.
Quit tapping your feet. They’ll dance
inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.
Geology says: it will be all right. Slow inch
by inch America is giving itself
to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.
You aren’t alone. All of the continents used to be
one body. You aren’t alone. Go to sleep.
Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow,
Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle,
Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so
Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town
and
History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.
— : Albert Goldbarth, The Sciences Sing a Lullabye (via clavicola)
"My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since well before any kiss. And now the prospect of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back. The notion of them continuing for what is traditionally terrifying forever excites me to an unfamiliar degree."
— Alex Turner’s love letter to Alexa Chung (via tinyneedles)
(Source: forbleuskies, via fleurishes)
"‘Explore me’ you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know."
— Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body (via ampersanddd)
(via thiscouldbeacity)
