The Feminine Urge To Murder Agamemnon Whenever He Is Being Sexist In Tsoa

“In college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.”

— Nicholas Rombes, The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)

*seductively lays across your lap and starts crying*

WE ARE *BANGS HEAD AGAINST WALL* NEVER EVER EVER *THROWS CHAIR* GETTING BACK TOGETHER *JUMPS OFF A CLIFF*

if somebody held their arms out to me and softly told me “c’mere” i would simply break down

do u ever change the way that u talk depending on who youre with

like some people you talk to like youre both english majors and then others u talk 2 like youre having a mental breakdown

I honestly feel that working in a little old bookstore would solve all of my problems.

Ahh the inherent romanticism of waking up on a cold September morning, stepping outside in an oversized sweater to read while drinking a hot drink in the cold crisp weather.

You can’t put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren’t.

Jenny Han (via a-thousand-words)

snail as old as slime