Bookaholic and Proud of it!

  • 22nd
  • April
  • 2014
Reading is primarily a symptom. Of a healthy imagination, of our interest in this and other worlds, of our ability to be still and quiet, of our ability to dream during daylight.
Carmen Callil (among MANY others), Stop What You’re Doing and Read This (via quoted-books)

(via lightispaintingshadows)

  • 21st
  • April
  • 2014
kawaiig0ff:

colleenclarkart:

I made a comic with pretty much the same punchline as this other comic I made maybe no one will notice

Literally me every summer.

kawaiig0ff:

colleenclarkart:

I made a comic with pretty much the same punchline as this other comic I made maybe no one will notice

Literally me every summer.

(via littlebitchtrollfromhell)

Jane Eyre (2011)

"I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high."

(Source: waitingformrrochester, via booksandquills)

  • 20th
  • April
  • 2014

"You do realize you’re talking about a fictional character, right?":

backrowforlife:

image

(via dran-chan)

veschwab:

Some Baby King for your Easter. 

(Source: people.com)

  • 19th
  • April
  • 2014

juliajm15:

This is when you realize how many songs this movie has O.O

I think I don’t have an excuse, I just wanted to draw these ‘-‘

(via serenataimmortalevis)

tooquirkytolose:

tooquirkytolose:

Made this in an exercise of ‘Actually start something and then finish it, God dammit’.

reblogging for the 15 people who followed me based solely on this

(via serenataimmortalevis)

frahnkei:

bummerfriends:

April 2014: Horrorscopes for thefreshzine

This is funny cuz I’m taurus and I actually feel rlly alone.

(via nemumpoucoepico)

  • 18th
  • April
  • 2014

nprbooks:

Via Paste magazine, David Tennant reads Shakespeare’s Sonnet 126:

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time’s fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
Her audit (though delayed) answered must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.

C…c…can’t talk, drooling.

— Petra

h0odrich:

BITCH IS TOO REAL

h0odrich:

BITCH IS TOO REAL

(Source: fatitalianbroad, via serenataimmortalevis)