MRS
You do not even think of your own past as quite real; you dress it up, you gild it or blacken it, censor it, tinker with it…fictionalize it, in a word, and put it away on a shelf—your book, your romanced autobiography. We are all in the flight from the real reality.
— John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman (via exoticwild)

bongsboysandbutts:

foreheadxkisses:

Body comparisons. 

this is so beautiful 

Valentin Yudashkin sent down an absolutely gorgeous and delicately feminine collection for his Spring/Summer 2015 collection. Flower appliqué and immaculately precise stitching accompanied ethereal silhouettes. There were billowing skirts, elegant daywear and pink floral pieces that personified Hans Christian Andersen’s Thumbelina. Hand-painted watercolors and pastels juxtaposed the metallic filigree in a strikingly luxurious way. When you lacquer something in gold, it becomes that much more precious.

The models looked like walking vases - an open canvas for blooming life and rejuvenation. The dresses could be mistaken for floral couture, as if a garden was blooming directly on them. A palette that consisted of the colors of clouds could only be fit for a modern Disney princess and her woodland nymph counterpart.

Photographed by Vogue Italia

I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can’t really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, ‘If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we’ll talk.’ All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don’t want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.
— Ray Bradbury (via observando)

aseaofquotes:

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

Submitted by a-sea-of-memories.

When you, like Perez Hilton, equate being ‘fierce’ with black womanhood, you are not simply complimenting black women’s perceived awesome sassiness. You are saying that we are overtly strong, both emotionally and physically, which leads to us being denied the facets of femininity that white women are so easily given. This is dangerous in ways I cannot completely describe, but I’m going to try: Black women are raped more often than white women, because our ‘fierceness’ is linked to ideas of sexual promiscuity – rapists believe we ‘want it more’. When we are raped the police believes us less than white women, because our ‘fierceness’ makes them think we could have fought back if we really wanted to. When we are beaten by our partners, the same applies. When we argue with people, we are seen as immediately aggressive. If we raise our voices or get angry, it isn’t because you’ve done something stupid, it’s because we are black and we are female and our innate ‘fierceness’ makes us unreasonable and unworthy of being listened to. When we lose our children to violence, when we have to survive on food stamps and benefits, even when we go to prison, it’s all a-ok because black women are the fiercest of the fierce and so none of that is a problem and we can handle anything that’s thrown at us – and all of this has lead to a point where when we knock on a door to ask for help because our car has broken down, we are not given hugs and a cup of tea. We, like a young American woman called Renisha McBride, whose killer claimed self defence, are shot in the face at point blank range because we are fierce, and therefore aggressive, unpredictable, and worthy of the mocking, fear and scorn that the world looks at us with.
I didn’t say I liked it. I said it fascinated me. There is a great difference.
Oscar Wilde, adapted from The Picture of Dorian Gray (via lifeinpoetry)

I’m like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other. (Breakfast at Tiffany’s 1961)