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Yield With Conviction

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http://gentleness-evident.tumblr.com/post/91093418735/ivorytowermind-dominique-inique-inique.

ivorytowermind:

dominique-inique-inique:

everybody seems to think ravenclaw is a quiet place to read but i quite disagree

i mean maybe the fact that it’s so light and airy is because they need to be able to open the windows when jack blows something up while experimenting with charms…

(Source: theresstillme, via domatilla)

shanemaxwell:

I found this copy of Thoreau’s Walden buried in the park.  I opened it and saw these roots growing between the pages. I don’t know whether to frame it or put it back in the ground.

(via stapledwords)

haltsmaulduhurensohn:

June | via Tumblr unter We Heart It.

(via lifeontheshelf)

(Source: colombadoro, via lifeontheshelf)

“ In early June the world of leaf and blade and flowers explodes, and every sunset is different. ”

—    The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck (via balltillifall)

(via lifeontheshelf)

“ And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. ”

—    The Great Gatsby

(Source: story-dj, via ladyhaleth)

“ I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages. ”

“ And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable? ”

—    Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (via ladyhaleth)

(Source: youngeyesignite, via stapledwords)