Home

Advertisement

Im selling this Marc Jacobs Marissa bag for $240 I was asking $400 because it is such a rare bag and it is in new condition hardly worn. Comes with dustbag and tags!
Photobucket
Read more... )

kafka, the trial

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 2:02 AM
Logic may indeed be unshakeable, but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live. Where was the judge he had never seen? Where was the High Court he had never reached? He raised his hands and spread out all his fingers. But the hands of one of the men closed round his throat, just as the other drove the knife deep into his heart and turned it twice.

tolstoy, the kingdom of god is within you

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 1:52 AM
The only significance of life consists in helping to establish the kingdom of God; and this can be done only by means of the acknowledgment and profession of the truth by each one of us.
The most difficult subjects can be explained to the most slow-witted man if he has not formed any idea of them already; but the simplest thing cannot be made clear to the most intelligent man if he is firmly persuaded that he knows already, without a shadow of doubt, what is laid before him.

tolstoy, anna karenina

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 1:51 AM
All happy families resemble one another; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

thoreau, walking

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 1:48 AM
A truly good book is something as natural, and as unexpectedly and unaccountably fair and perfect, as a wild-flower discovered on the prairies of the West or in the jungles of the East. Genius is a light which makes the darkness visible, like the lightning's flash, which perchance shatters the temple of knowledge itself,—and not a taper lighted at the hearth-stone of the race, which pales before the light of common day.

nietzsche, notebooks (1886-1887)

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 1:47 AM
There are no facts, only interpretations.

the journals of søren kierkegaard

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 1:43 AM
It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite.

I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to chose where we come from, we can still chose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we try to feel okay about them.

 

Some kids look at me strange in the hallways because I don't decorate my locker, and I'm the one that beat up Sean, and cried about it after he did it. I guess I'm pretty emotional.

 

We accept the love we think we deserve.

 

And in that moment, I swear, we felt infinite.

 

He's a wallflower.

 

I hope it's the kind of second side that he can listen to whenever he drives alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad. I hope it can be that for him.

 

I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.

 

Girls are weird, and I don't mean that offensively. I just can't put it any other way.

 

I look at people holding hands in the hallways and I try to think about how it all works. At the school dances, I sit in the background, and I tap my toe, and I wonder how many couples will dance to "their song." In the hallways, I see the girls wearing the guys' jackets, and I think about the idea of property. And I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are. I really hope they are.

 

Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.

 

It was the kind of kiss that I could never
tell my friends about out loud. It was the
kind of kiss that made me know that I was
never so happy in my whole life.

 

So, this is my life.
And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and

I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

 


       "Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in ours souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood."
       "That's rather a broad idea," I remarked.
       "One's ideas must be as broad as Nature if they are to interpret Nature," he answered.

Lost Girls by Alan Moore

  • Dec. 27th, 2009 at 9:01 PM
-->"I recall there was something very important, very fragile. But then a terrible thing happened and it got broken. Forever. Nobody could ever mend it." -Alice

-->"They are bright and exciting. Like America. Like its women." -Bauer

-->"One's memory is such a curious place. You see, there's the way things seemed, and then there is the way things were...and one is so often the total reverse of the other." -Alice

Suggestive text behind this cut )

Probably one of the best graphic novels ever written.

Dec. 27th, 2009

  • 8:54 PM
 "Game shows are designed to make us feel better about the random, useless facts that are all we have left of our education."

Invisible Monsters
by Chuck Palahniuk 

Benjamin Franklin

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 12:05 AM
Any society which would give up a little liberty to gain a little security deserves neither and loses both.

Icons

  • Dec. 28th, 2009 at 12:03 AM
[40] Brothers & Sisters
[08] Eastwick
[08] Flash Forward
[44] Gilmore Girls
[16] Glee
[44] Mad Men
[04] Milo Ventimiglia (Oldboy)
[08] Rachel Griffiths
[20] The Good Wife

Preview



more here

Dec. 27th, 2009

  • 10:47 PM
"There are the wheels, Watson. Quick, man, if you love me! And don't budge, whatever happens--whatever happens, do you hear? Don't speak! Don't move! Just listen with all your ears."

-Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Dying Detective.

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

  • Dec. 27th, 2009 at 1:39 PM
I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand.

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
"Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

Dec. 27th, 2009

  • 9:01 PM
One knew nothing. One lived and walked about on the earth or rode through the forests, and so many things looked at one with such challenge and promise, rousing such longing: an evening star, a bluebell, a lake green with reeds, the eye of a human being or of a cow, and at times it seemed as if the very next moment something never seen but long yearned for must happen, as if a veil must drop from everything. But then it passed, and nothing happened, and the riddle was not solved, nor was the secret spell lifted, and finally one became old... and perhaps one still knew nothing, would still be waiting and listening.

Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund.

Dec. 27th, 2009

  • 3:38 PM
 
Whatever road you may be on, know you're never too far gone.
~

Savushun by Simin Daneshvar

  • Dec. 27th, 2009 at 12:35 PM
If only the world were in the hands of women, Zari thought. Women give birth. They are creators, and they know the value of their creation, the value of endurance, patience, monotony, and being unable to do anything for oneself. Perhaps because men have never been creators, they'll take any risk to create something. If the world were in the hands of women, how could there be wars? If they take the blessings that you have away from you, what then?

Profile

cute tatou
[info]lovelaughter
lovelaughter

Latest Month

April 2006
S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
30      
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Michael Rose