“How do you love? Like a fist. Like a knife.”
ADA LIMÓN || “The Good Fight” from Bright Dead Things (2015)
today was an interesting day. the first picture is the “functions rainbow” I made in maths class, while we were learning some new functions and how to use the graphic calculator. it’s been really fun using it. loving maths aside... spent most of my study hours preparing for my portuguese test tomorrow, on the first two parts of Os Lusíadas by Luís de Camões. I really like studying this true masterpiece but sweet Lord is it tuff to understand and memorize all of this... couldn’t we just learn and not do tests on this? physics course does not request my top grade understanding of this. well I hope the test goes well so my grade can go a bit more up. wish me luck !!
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i cannot die until i read classic literature to someone in a large field on a warm day.
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mr darcy probably: once i get over my social anxiety it's over for you bitches
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I’d absolutely live for a film adaption of Dracula that was faithful to the book
The road is before us!
It is safe— I have tried it— my own feet have tried it well— be not detain'd!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! Let the money remain unearn'd!
Let the school stand! Mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! Let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?
Song of the Open Road, Walt Whitman
Where is the boy who would love it when I read Keats to him while he lays on my lap, who would keep my handwritten notes safely in his favourite book, who would get all giddy when I give him flowers, who would intertwine our fingers while walking down the paths... where is he? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE??
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“Cinderella never asked for a Prince. She asked for a night off and a dress.”
-Like not once did she say, “I want a prince to come and rescue me from my situation.”
She just wanted to look cute and turn the fuck up at the party.
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I am currently making my way through ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.’ I am partially half way through this novel and it is... ok so far...
I mean, Huck is definitely on one adventure and I cannot grasp how he gets involved in so many- random event and peoples lives. I would describe Huckleberry as an uncontrollable terrier. A wild and disobeying animal that appears to be small and scrappy but somehow thinks they are similar to a German Shepherd.
The blatant racism however, encourages me to put this novel down, it was published in 1885 which is sadly expected from these older authors such as Mark Twain. (This definitely does not condone racism).
Hopefully, as the chapters go on, I’ll be able to feel more of a connection towards this book.
Atlas wanted to learn what women would have to endure. So he lifted the heavens on his shoulders and kept them there for an eternity.
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Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie
We're all so desperate to be understood, we forget to be understanding.
- Beau Taplin
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tuesday, may 18th, 2021 | 2/100 days of productivity
hello! sorry i’ve been a bit mia for over a month now, but i had decided to take an unexpected break from all social media for a bit. with the semester wrapping up, everything was kicked into over drive—and i know it’s kinda ironic that an academia/study blog goes inactive right during prime studying season— it was all getting a bit overwhelming.
i have one more exam until i’m free, but do not fret because the summer will not be lacking any study posts as next school year will only get crazier. thanks for sticking around during my inactivity. you are all so wonderful, stay safe<3
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Started reading Rebecca and now I desperately want to go to the South of France and fall in love with a mysterious aristocrat...
gift me annotated poetry or second hand books of classic literature or write me letters on cream coloured, crinkly parchment with an old fountain pen and ink and seal them with wax and dried flowers and i’ll cherish them and love you for the rest of my days
They asked "Do you love her to death?"
I said "Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life" "
“قالوا: تموت بها حباً؟
قلت: ألا أذكروها على قبـري لتحييني
— 𝙈𝙖𝙝𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝
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I was compelled to love you not because you are the fairest, but because you are the deepest. For a lover of beauty is usually a fool.
ليس لأنك الأجمل ، بل لأنك الأعمق فعاشق الجمال ف العادة أحمق
— 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗱 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 (1941–2008)
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• curling up with your favourite book with a mound of blankets on the windowsill and listening to the soft pitter patter of the rain drops hitting the glass
• finding a quaint little café or coffee shop and sitting in a secluded booth while writing your novel or poetry or perhaps sketching the people around you
• writing love letters late at night by candlelight that will never be sent
• dancing with your lover in the dark of the night in an abandoned museum or castle with no rhythm to guide you but the steady beats of the rain hitting the outside of the building
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