There are certain texts….certain people….certain things…all of which shouldn’t be done after midnight. My insistent hardheadedness is uncanny.
I don’t like pretense. If I like something, I want to just say that instead of using a zillion words to hide a simple point.
Need a Valentine’s Day pick-me-up? These nice celebrity humans are here to hit on YOU.
“Where we’re going, we don’t need arms.”
(Source: teamcoco.com)
wellllll.
Edward Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
Mr. Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at Adèle and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and jaw—yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his physiognomy…My master’s colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth.
Maybe I didn’t really know you. Maybe you were just a mirage. Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we’re all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it’s not your fault. I’m been thinking about all these things and… you’re probably standing there monitoring. And one more thing - about the letter. Nuke it. Flame it. Destroy it. - It hurts me to know it’s out there. Later. - Lloyd Dobbler. Say Anything.
