Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it. Because...– Stephen Colbert (via mirroir)
The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom...– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (via liquidnight)
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to...– Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral (via enflurane) This reminds me of one of my favorite moments from Third Rock from the Sun, when Dick gives a eulogy for a fellow physicist: “How can we honor the memory of a man like Leonard Hanlon? Well, he was governed by the laws of...
the-fandoms-are-cool: how I discovered I was pansexual shit that guy’s hot oh fuck that girl’s hot too wait what trans people are hot as well damn sweet jesus I’m not sure what gender you are but you’re very hot is there a term for this condition
I look away, toward the hundreds and hundreds of people who have been driven out...– Lauren Oliver, Requiem (via wordsinbooks)
Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to...– Kami Garcia & Margaret Stohl, Beautiful Chaos (via wordsinbooks)
There is a secret shield in all of us. I call it quiet strength. It is the...– Secret Option C: Set Your Own Standards. Kaiwen Leong. Singapore’s Lost Son. (via lebovarysme)
In August of 1990 I found myself laying on my stomach in the woods with a pair...– Kathleen Hanna, Our Hit Parade (via colporteur)
I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I’m frightened of the...– John Cage (via funeral)
Mark J. Mitchell, "Archeological"
“Ecstasy does not use the same symbol twice.” —Jorge Luis Borges The temple was ruined last year after the rains, before the sun dried the ground. A small tremor near the river (assumed willed by one of the gods) felled that wall. A nun was killed, but the monks all escaped leaving the sacrifice undone. Nature is quick here, stones are draped with new growth, disguising their...
Yes, the empire is sick, and, what is worse, it is trying to become accustomed...– Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino
You’re a ghost driving a meat coated skeleton made from stardust, what do you...– ~ Porkbeard (via mirroir)