When our ranks begin to form, will you take your place with me?
My place is here, I fight with you

themaraudersaredead#this friendship is soooo important #who cares about marius’ lonely soul #you do e i see it in those eyes aw you softie

( shakespeareandpunk )

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Kimye on the cover of Vogue. [gif]


all these dicks and you decide to suck the fun outta this party 

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liam is hilarious on twitter and people should appreciate it


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!!!   RELEVANT   
You have my permission not to love me;
I am a cathedral of deadbolts
and I’d rather burn myself down
than change the locks.

- Rachel McKibbens (via kaseynese)

(via jessieflux)

We don’t forget, but something vacant settles in us.

- Roland Barthes, “Mourning Diary” (via dustyshelf)

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truth   relevant   grief   mourning   quotes   roland barthes   
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

- Philip Larkin, from “The Mower” (via proustitute)
I believe in the essential goodness of human beings, and if that’s radical, then I guess I’m radical. I believe human beings would rather hop into bed with each other and do tender things to each other than run through the jungle and shoot each other. If that’s a radical thought, then I’m a radical. I believe that poetry can save the world. And shoot, that one has always been a radical thought, I guess. So maybe I am a radical, you know?

- Ten Little Indians, by Sherman Alexie (via victrazing)
i want to tell the story again.

re-read jeanette winterson’s weight in the library today, waiting for the rain to stop so i could walk home instead of taking the bus.  copied down a bunch of quotes, and so, instead of spamming you with them, i’m just going to dump them all here.

i have another notebook somewhere, likely in the box of them that’s still in storage, that has all of these quotes and probably more from this book in it.  weight wasn’t, i don’t think, my first winterson, but it was the first time while reading her that i sat up and went “oh.  oh.” and so i count it as the beginning of my love affair with her.  (i don’t think it was my first because i’m pretty sure i read at least one of her longer works in junior high, when i would go the library next to the grounds every day after school, and wander around, choosing books to take out based on their covers or titles as much as their descriptions.  i gobbled up so many books then, i’d be surprised if i remembered even half of them.  (even so, i read less in junior high than i did in elementary, if only because i had actual friends for the first time, as opposed to one, singular, friend.)  but i am pretty sure that i read at least one winterson then.)

weight speaks to me, like much of winterson’s work, because of her willingness to put herself into the narrative.  she is writing herself, and she is doing a beautifully heartbreaking job of it.  i identify with all of these so fucking hard.


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