Loving life is easy when you are abroad. Where no one knows you and you hold your life in your hands all alone, you are more master of yourself than at any other time.
Hannah Arendt (via macrolit)
“I tried to argue that Ophelia resonated because Shakespeare had made an extraordinary discovery in writing her, though I had trouble articulating the nature of that discovery. I didn’t want to admit that it could be something as simple as recognizing that emotionally unstable teenage girls are human beings. … When Ophelia appears onstage in Act IV, scene V, singing little songs and handing out imaginary flowers, she temporarily upsets the entire power dynamic of the Elsinore court. When I picture that scene, I always imagine Gertrude, Claudius, Laertes, and Horatio sharing a stunned look, all of them thinking the same thing: “We fucked up. We fucked up bad.” It might be the only moment of group self-awareness in the whole play. Not even the grossest old Victorian dinosaur of a critic tries to pretend that Ophelia is making a big deal out of nothing. Her madness and death is plainly the direct result of the alternating tyranny and neglect of the men in her life. She’s proof that adolescent girls don’t just go out of their minds for the fun of it. They’re driven there by people in their lives who should have known better.”
— B.N. Harrison, from “The Unified Theory of Ophelia”
(via shakespeareismyjam)
great tv recommendations: the hollow crown
↳ “For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d.”“Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
trying to kinkshame me is futile. like oh, great, you sure shamed the hell out of me–never getting off to THAT again. u just got like 39489348348 more kinks to shame now until i have nothing but pure, unproblematic vanilla fantasies. It’s like some sort of dark fetish hydra where every head you destroy just spawns ten new kinks, each viler than the last. Give it up, buddy, you can’t fucking win against such a bottomless well of perversion, I’m gross and unstoppable.
The saddest aspect of life is that there is no one on earth whose happiness is such that he won’t sometimes wish he were dead rather than alive.
The Histories, Herodotus (via macrolit)
CELEGORM THE FAIR
the third son of Fëanor, constant companion of his younger brother Curufin
“…a hunter was Celegorm, who in Valinor was a friend of Oromë and often followed the Vala’s horn. Celegorm went rather to the house of
Oromë, and there he got great knowledge of birds and beasts, and all their tongues he knew.”
Heartofoshun's place 