Lavinia Spalding, from Writing Away
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Calling all incurable romantics!
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❝ I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
— Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
Louise Bourgeois, To Unravel a Torment You Must Begin Somewhere, no. 8 of 9, from the series What is the Shape of this Problem?, 1999
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Black cats seamless pattern [original]
Do you ever make a graphic and you get at the point where you have to choose a font and think “if only there were some way to get an overview of all the fonts I have already installed”? Well you can. At wordmark.it you just type in any word you want, it then shows that word in every font you have installed on your computer.
I can’t wait to turn 27 so I can go around saying “I’m 27 years old. I’ve no money and no prospects. I’m already a burden to my parents”
It will be the year of Charlotte Lucas status. Hollla.
❝ Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old gray mountain, slowly, taking
the rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleeping
under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks.
I want to see how many stars are still in the sky
that we have smothered for years now, a century at least.
I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,
and peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.
All that urgency! Not what the earth is about!
How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.
I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.
Paradise Kiss, “Designer” (ep. 9)