Brother Gregor Never Spoke And Often Spooked The Neophytes With His Appearance, But He Was A Gentle Soul

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Tatler magazine, London, May 16, 1928

Marcel Proust, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Marcel Proust

Forest Scene (1870) by Thomas Moran

The haunting ancient Celtic carnyx being played for an audience. This is the sound Roman soldiers would have heard their Celtic enemies make.

Just found an absolute gem in one of my diaries that I'd forgotten about, here it goes:

"I think the reason I keep making excuses not to even try is that if I don't and I fail I can tell myself I still have this ✨potential✨, this magical, wobbly mass that may never be touched because if I use it, I might just learn it's limits, which, after an entire life of everyone telling me I could do anything, scares me into a state of academic paralysis.

And what if, what if I try, really try, and I fail? Then I will lose the piece of self-worth that is tied to thinking I am the smartest person in the room."

Maybe someone finds it relatable, cause I certainly did when I found it again

Me logging into ao3 to read fanfics about my ships after i just said good night to my family and that im already sleepy be like: