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Niccolò Machiavelli, Il Principe, original manuscript (1513)
(via fuckyeahmanuscripts)
conspiracy keanu
Just packed up my entire dorm room. Where the hell did all this crap COME FROM?
“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
— Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey (via whatshewanted)
favourite films
How to be Awkward, brought to you by Pride and Prejudice (2005):1. Accidentally let slip to the girl you like you can’t read.
2. Bow to a lady with a dirty hemline.
3. Be Mr. Collins.
4. Gawk at Jane.
5. Wave your glove around like a dag instead of proposing like a man.
6. Nearly get elbowed by Darcy.
7. Be Mr. Collins.
8. Try not to enjoy yourself staring at Pig’s testies.
9. Try to have eye sex with the man you rejected.
(via edithcrawleys)
“The wallflower sat reading in the Paris restaurant. There used to be so many categories of wallflower: the anxious, smiling, tense ones who leaned forward, trying; the important, busy, apparently elsewhere preoccupied ones, who were nonetheless waiting, waiting in the carpeted offices of their inattention, to be found. There were wallflowers who clustered noisily together, and others who worked a territory, resolute and alone. And then, there were wallflowers who had recognized for years that the thing was hopeless, who had found in that information a kind of calm. They no longer tried, with a bright and desperate effort, to sustain a conversation with somebody’s brother, somebody’s usher, somebody’s roommate, somebody’s roommate’s usher’s brother, or, worst of all, with that male wallflower who ought — by God, who ought — to be an ally, who could, in dignity and the common interest, join forces to make it through an evening, but who, after all, had higher aspirations, and neither the sense nor the courtesy to conceal it, who, in short, scorned the partner fate and the placement had dealt him, worst of all. The category of wallflower who had given up on all this was very quiet, not indifferent, only quiet. And she always brought a book.”
— Speedboat, Renata Adler (via kelsfjord)
“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
— Fernando Pessoa (via larmoyante)
