Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

Sylvia Plath

fuck every single time that last line gets quoted without the rest

(via sadjailbait)

yeah, well, fuck even more this quote always leaving out this "From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable femininity."because talking about ovaries and penises upsets everyone’s delicate nature… (via ginandbird)

(Source: raccoonwounds)

lambhoof:

i have a special folder for photos of small dogs snoozing on large sleeping places

f-l-e-u-r-d-e-l-y-s:

Truth is Beauty by Marco Cochrane

One of the most eye-catching artworks at this year’s Burning Man festival was a 55-feet tall sculpture of a woman in a beautifully elegant pose. Truth is Beauty is the second of three sculptures in a series called The Bliss Project by artist Marco Cochrane. Constructed of welded steel rods and balls and covered in stainless steel mesh skin, the massive sculpture had interactive lighting effects that made it constantly change.

If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness.

A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner (via inthemiddleeast)

(Source: notclarissa)

boys-and-suicide:

Just remember in about 40 seconds someone is about to commit suicide as we sit here blogging. This post goes out to the teens who took and will take their lives. Please just reblog this post to recognize them and don’t question whether or not you should. I promise it won’t ruin your blog type.

When my husband [Carl Sagan] died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again.

Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful.

The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.

Ann Druyan (via whats-out-there)

fakehouseresidentt:

phototoartguy:

The adorable and unlikely friendship between a fox and a dog that’s being turned into a children’s fairytale book

Photographer Torgeir Berge

Oh no.