The rules of this blog are fairly simple: If I like something, I'll reblog it. So, sometimes it's a pretentious hipster photo blog, and other times a social justice blog, but it's always a Gong Yoo appreciation blog. But then sometimes I completely disregard all of that and post whatever the hell I feel like -- then it's mostly a lot of attractive people looking attractive, fields of poppies, personally victimizing gif sets of life-ruining otps, and landscapes at sunset. If you don't like it, you can find the unfollow button at the top.
Tagged with virginia woolf
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
mrs. dalloway by Chris Drumm on Flickr
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
With her mind she had always seized the fact that there is no reason, order, justice: but suffering, death, the poor. There was no treachery too base for the world to commit; she knew that. No happiness lasted; she knew that.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
What does the brain matter compared with the heart?
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
I’m good, she thought at fact-collecting. But what makes up a person -, (she hollowed her hand), the circumference, - no, I’m not good at that.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
Why should I be bothering myself with questions which shall eternally remain unanswered? How queer that wave of agony; melancholy paralyzing my senses, beautifully, yet for nothing.
I don’t know when I have suffered more; and yet why did I suffer? And what did I suffer? I said, “I love life”; disillusion filled me: all belief fell off me. Hopelessness broke my bones.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
Still I gape, like a young bird, unsatisfied, for something that has escaped me. I cannot keep myself together. I am like a log slipping smoothly over some waterfall.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
This gloom, this surrender to the dark waters which lap us about, is a modern invention.
Virginia Woolf, Night & Day.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
Sitting alone among the clean cups at the long table, she felt cut off from other people, and able only to go on watching, asking, wondering; what does it mean then? What can it all mean?
I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
Nevertheless, life is pleasant, life is tolerable. Tuesday follows Monday; then comes Wednesday. The mind grows rings; the identity becomes robust; pain is absorbed in growth. Opening and shutting, shutting and opening, with increasing hum and sturdiness, the haste and fever of youth are drawn into service until the whole being seems to expand in and out like the mainspring of a clock. How fast the stream flows from January to December! We are swept on by the torrent of things grown so familiar that they cast no shadow. We float, we float…
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
On the whole, what I like is to flash and dash from side to side, goaded on by what I call reality. If I never felt these extraordinarily pervasive strains - of unrest, or rest, or happiness, or discomfort - I should float down into acquiescence. Here is something to fight: And when I wake early I say to myself Fight, fight. If I could catch the feeling, I would: the feeling of the singing of the real world; the sense that comes to me of being bound on a perpetual adventure; of being strangely free to do anything.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
