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Caligula Would Have Blushed
Every new event—everything I did for the rest of my life—would only separate us more and more: days she was no longer a part of, an ever-growing distance between us. Every single day for the rest of my life, she would only be further away.
Donna Tart, The Goldfinch.
A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ’50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up.

Stephen Scobie, on the Naropa Institute’s 1994 tribute to Allen Ginsberg  (via thisisendless)

FUCK

(via femmeboyant)

I’m just frozen. Absences of women in history don’t “just happen,” they are made.

(via queereyes-queerminds)

(bolded emphasis mine)


To be fair, they were also being used for food, shelter and sex and generally being treated like useful objects of convenience by the male writers, as well. 

(via imnopicasso)

hermionejg:

RIP Richard Griffiths, a tremendous actor.

She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation.
In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via foxesinbreeches)
Up they trooped, solemn and radiant, in many sizes, all beautiful as only the young can be beautiful. Even the ugly ones were beautiful, even the surly ones, the fat ones, even the spotty ones. None of them understands this - how beautiful they are.
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via manycoloureddays)
Scrolling through the Waterstone’s Twitter is my new favourite pastime

at-the-barricades-of-freedom:

Let’s take a look at a few of my favs so far;

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Sassy Waterstones worker, I love you,

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And well this is true:

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Sometimes I do worry about their psyche though:

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They make up cool new words;

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They’re a sassy little shit.

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And best of all, the Holden debacle;

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And one more for good luck:

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There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other involves orcs.
John Rogers (via barrier-trio)
In the end we had the pieces of the puzzle, but no matter how we put them together, gaps remained, oddly shaped emptinesses mapped by what surrounded them, like countries we couldn’t name.
Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides
asgardian-poledance:

girlsinkhearts:

YOU OTHER READERS CAN’T DENY
WHEN A BOOK WALKS IN WITH A GOOD PLOT BASE
AND A BIG SPINE IN YOUR FACE YOU GET SPRUNG
WANNA PULL OUT YOUR PENS
‘CAUSE YOU NOTICED THAT BOOK WAS DENSE
READING, HALF-RIMS I’M WEARING
I’M HOOKED AND I AIN’T CARING
OH BABY I WANT AN E-READER
AND A MEANINGFUL METER
MY TEACHERS TRIED TO TRAIN ME
THAT BOOK YOU GOT MAKES ME SO BRAINY

OH MY GOD.
And then I died…
rapping this forever

BLESS THIS POST

asgardian-poledance:

girlsinkhearts:

YOU OTHER READERS CAN’T DENY

WHEN A BOOK WALKS IN WITH A GOOD PLOT BASE

AND A BIG SPINE IN YOUR FACE YOU GET SPRUNG

WANNA PULL OUT YOUR PENS

‘CAUSE YOU NOTICED THAT BOOK WAS DENSE

READING, HALF-RIMS I’M WEARING

I’M HOOKED AND I AIN’T CARING

OH BABY I WANT AN E-READER

AND A MEANINGFUL METER

MY TEACHERS TRIED TO TRAIN ME

THAT BOOK YOU GOT MAKES ME SO BRAINY

OH MY GOD.

And then I died…

rapping this forever

BLESS THIS POST