I have once again, started a blog. But this time it’s on Wordpress so it’ll be so much better, right? 

bewbin:

Do you have a moment to talk about Jesus 

bewbin:

Do you have a moment to talk about Jesus 

282,493 notes

uncle-anwar:

thesherlockednerdfighter:

What the actual fuck

????????????

(Source: lnthefade)

111,978 notes

emilygould:

sarahluz:

earlhofert:

boomboomfroom:

thegits:

BroadFUCKINGCity

I can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

I love them.

MY GOD.

crying tears of joy looking at this image

emilygould:

sarahluz:

earlhofert:

boomboomfroom:

thegits:

Broad
FUCKING
City

I can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

I love them.

MY GOD.

crying tears of joy looking at this image

1,777 notes

theparisreview:

“I had scarcely begun when I realized that what I had here at the very least was the Great American Novel. I sent off the first 150 pages to [agent Bernice Baumgarten] and hung around the post office for the next two weeks. At last an answer came. It read as follows: ‘Dear Peter, James Fenimore Cooper wrote this 150 years ago, only he wrote it better, Yours, Bernice.’ On a later occasion, when as a courtesy I sent her the commission on a short story sold in England, she responded unforgettably: ‘Dear Peter, I’m awfully glad you were able to get rid of this story in Europe, as I don’t think we’d have had much luck with it here. Yours, Bernice.’ Both these communications, quoted in their entirety, are burned into my brain forever—doubtless a salutary experience for a brash young writer. I never heard an encouraging word until the day Bernice retired, when she called me in and barked like a Zen master, ‘I’ve been tough on you because you’re very, very good.’ I wanted to sink down and embrace her knees.”
Peter Matthiessen, on his first novel.

theparisreview:

“I had scarcely begun when I realized that what I had here at the very least was the Great American Novel. I sent off the first 150 pages to [agent Bernice Baumgarten] and hung around the post office for the next two weeks. At last an answer came. It read as follows: ‘Dear Peter, James Fenimore Cooper wrote this 150 years ago, only he wrote it better, Yours, Bernice.’ On a later occasion, when as a courtesy I sent her the commission on a short story sold in England, she responded unforgettably: ‘Dear Peter, I’m awfully glad you were able to get rid of this story in Europe, as I don’t think we’d have had much luck with it here. Yours, Bernice.’ Both these communications, quoted in their entirety, are burned into my brain forever—doubtless a salutary experience for a brash young writer. I never heard an encouraging word until the day Bernice retired, when she called me in and barked like a Zen master, ‘I’ve been tough on you because you’re very, very good.’ I wanted to sink down and embrace her knees.”

Peter Matthiessen, on his first novel.

246 notes

I look at her and I think, “What more could I want?”

387 notes

gogetthatbody:

k-lionheart:

themaidenofthetree:

I want you to imagine a ten year old version of yourself sitting right there on this couch. Now this is the little girl who first believed that she was fat, and ugly, and an embarrassment.

This is groundbreaking

this is my third time rebloging this today. this is so important.

267,726 notes