I had the lonely child’s habit of making up stories and holding conversations with imaginary persons, and I think from the very start my literary ambitions were mixed up with the feeling of being isolated and undervalued. I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure in everyday life. — George Orwell, Why I Write (via saygoodnightnotgoodbye)
(Source: seabois, via girlwithg0ldeyes)
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what is it called when you hate someone but at the same time want to stick your tongue down their throat
(Source: kimsfairytalewedding, via releasethemurderbirds)
He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same. — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights (via starklywolves)
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Headline of the year.
[latimes]
(via releasethemurderbirds)
au where gatsby and nick get married and gatsby’s vows are all addressed to old sport and when the preacher asks if he takes nicholas carraway to be his lawfully wedded husband, gatsby just stands there in confusion for a few minutes and eventually confesses that he has no idea who nicholas carraway is he’s here to marry old sport
(via bymyfae)
I suppose it would be like deciding to eat a giant piece of banana and then changing your mind a bunch of times.
I can’t believe Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, bought tumblr
Well I’ll be dimmadamned.
(via vikingstorytime)
na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na
(via ofdarklands)
when i was
a young boy
my father
took me into the city
to see a marching band
he said, “son when—”
(via vikingstorytime)
(Source: lucy-in-desguise, via strangeorchid)
i need you to fuck me as hard as i hate myself
(via girlwithg0ldeyes)
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