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"A text is not a line of words releasing a single ‘theological’ meaning (the ‘message’ of the Author-God) but a multi-dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash."
Roland Barthes, The Death of the Author (via thingsiveunderlined)
(Source: evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com, via n3cr0phelia)
(Source: removetheheaddestroythebrain, via n3cr0phelia)
(via n3cr0phelia)
The future.
I want to high five this kid
I want to give him the highest of fives
(via lewie4)
Human centipede!
1929
“The Centipede” performed by dancers in Brussels.
(via vintagegal)
Princess Leia and her stunt double sunbathing on Jabba the Hutt’s ship.
(Source: s1th-happens)
"And you’re the reason I’m losing all my sleep at night
Oh, ‘cause I just can’t get what I want
I’m spinning out I’m pocket sized
I’m gonna catch that flyer
I’m gonna see it shine
yeah you’re waking up my one desire
but I cant get a line"
Old 97’s I Can’t Get a Line
"
Improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis?
Cruel Love, to what do you not drive mortal hearts?
"Vergil, Aeneid 4.412.
Dido
Heu vatum ignarae mentes! quid vota furentem,
quid delubra iuvant? Est mollis flamma medullas
interea, et tacitum vivit sub pectore volnus.
Uritur infelix Dido, totaque vagatur
urbe furens, qualis coniecta cerva sagitta,
quam procul incautam nemora inter Cresia fixit
pastor agens telis, liquitque volatile ferrum
nescius; illa fuga silvas saltusque peragrat
Dictaeos; haeret lateri letalis arundo.
“But priests, as we know, are ignorant. What use are prayers and shrines to a passionate woman? The flame was eating the soft marrow of her bounds and the wound lived quietly under her breast. Dido was on fire with love and wandered all over the city in her misery and madness like a wounded doe which a shepherd hunting in the woods off Crete has caught off guard, striking her from long range with steel-tipped shaft; the arrow flies and is left in her body without his knowing it; she runs away over all the wooded slopes of Mount Dicte, and sticking in her side is the arrow that will bring her death.”
Vergil, Aeneid 4.65-73. David West translator.
