The Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything

“I am selfish, private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?”
that’s all a shadow is—and though you might be prejudiced against the dark, you ought to remember that that’s where stars live, and the moon and raccoons and owls and fireflies and mushrooms and cats and enchantments and a rather lot of good, necessary things. thieving, too, and conspiracies, sneaking, secrets, and desire so strong you might faint dead away with the punch of it. but your light side isn’t a perfectly pretty picture, either, i promise you. you couldn’t dream without the dark. you couldn’t rest. you couldn’t even meet a lover on a balcony by moonlight. and what would the world be worth without that? you need your dark side, because without it, you’re half gone.

—catherynne m. valente  (via mirroir)

(Source: theoryoflostthings, via starseas)

The apocalypse was quiet. It had a way about it, a certain charm. It could be called graceful. It was taking a long time.

People prepared for an apocalypse that they could take up arms against, bunker down with. People hoarded filtered water, canned corn, dry milk, batteries. They published books on how to get things done in the new post-world, a world that they always imagined as being much like our own, only missing one or two key things. They might imagine, for example, that survivors would reemerge onto a planet stripped of all vegetable and plant life. First, the animals would grow vicious and then starve. It would be important to hoard as many of these animals as possible, pack them in salt and hide them away to keep. You’d want to have a supply of emergency seed to grow in a secure location, maybe using sterilized soil that you had already hoarded. Then you’d want to gather a crew. One muscle man with a heart of gold, a scientist type, an engineer, a child, and somebody that you thought maybe you could love, if you survived long enough to love them.
therumpus:

The Rumblr’s in-house astrologer, Madame Clairevoyant, presents her latest dispatch from the stars:
Taurus: You’re going to be so busy this week, busy just building the best life you can, busy growing older, busy growing up. There might be hints of magic and there might be signs of a glowing future somewhere up ahead, but this will mostly be a week for keeping your head, for keeping your feet on the ground, for staying honest. Try to keep believing in your own life. Try to keep believing that all this work matters. Try to get enough sleep. It’s going to be a very good week.
 Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.

therumpus:

The Rumblr’s in-house astrologer, Madame Clairevoyant, presents her latest dispatch from the stars:

Taurus: You’re going to be so busy this week, busy just building the best life you can, busy growing older, busy growing up. There might be hints of magic and there might be signs of a glowing future somewhere up ahead, but this will mostly be a week for keeping your head, for keeping your feet on the ground, for staying honest. Try to keep believing in your own life. Try to keep believing that all this work matters. Try to get enough sleep. It’s going to be a very good week.

 Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.

"Such a waste of talent. He chose money over power. In this town, a mistake nearly everyone makes. Money is the Mc-mansion in Sarasota that starts falling apart after 10 years. Power is the old stone building that stands for centuries. I cannot respect someone who doesn’t see the difference."

tv meme; 1/5 shows: house of cards

(via icarising)

When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. he sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamppost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it.

When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *academical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on.

But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.

And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.

—Brenda UelandIf You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit

(Source: nyctaeus, via howelljenkinspendragon)