♡

  • Photo “I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.” -Shel Silverstein, ‘Rain’

    “I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.” -Shel Silverstein, ‘Rain’

  • Photo Another promo that doesn’t deliver as advertised.

    Another promo that doesn’t deliver as advertised.

  • Photo Hey, cool…

    Hey, cool…

  • Link 24
    Notes Ralphabet Soup: There is no meaning to life.

    ralphabetsoup:

    From an evolutionary view point there is none. The continuation of life is merely the side effect of not dying. A cell that can reproduce is only successful because another one can not. But we are fortunate enough to have acquired consciousness. And from consciousness we have thrived. We, for some reason of survival, have become aware. We have also become very comfortable. For us humans it is no longer about the continuation of life. It is now the quality of life. Life is meaningless but from our consciousness we can create one. As I sit here, beer in hand, I contemplate what I want life to mean for me. 

    Today was really the first day in a long time when  I had no immediate obligations. I had the whole day to myself. I ended up doing nothing. That freedom I had was overwhelming. So much so that I froze. I was inundated with options. I did not know what to do and so I did nothing. Too worried that the choice I make, any choice really, would be the wrong one. 

    And this is how I got to this point. Imagine my day, times an entire lifetime! That is my worry. That kind of freedom is overwhelming. And so I worry that my life will ultimately be nothing because I have done nothing and I have done nothing because I don’t know what to do. So I am taking this time to think and eventually decide on something, NOW. You don’t wait for life to happen. Life starts now. Do something. Do anything, because no matter what you do, it’s better than doing nothing. With something, even if you realize it’s wrong, at least you get experience. 

    I really was just writing this as I go along but if there’s anything to take from my musings it’s this:

    Don’t be afraid of making wrong choices, be afraid of growing stagnant. 

    I may or may not edit this when I sober up.

  • Photo 8
    Notes

    (via tgswenson)

  • Photo 32
    Notes catropo:

Dear Vampire Weekend,
Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma? I do.

    catropo:

    Dear Vampire Weekend,

    Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma? I do.

    (via catropo-deactivated20120413)

  • Photo Fail.

    Fail.

  • Photo Orange🍊Camera 📷 👉 FREE at the Apple App Store UNTIL JAN.31,2012👈 #igers #instagram #instagramhub #instagood #instafun #phototoaster #kimija #ios5 #ipad #ipadcam #ipadography #primeshots #orangecamera #xproii #colorful #red

    Orange🍊Camera 📷 👉 FREE at the Apple App Store UNTIL JAN.31,2012👈 #igers #instagram #instagramhub #instagood #instafun #phototoaster #kimija #ios5 #ipad #ipadcam #ipadography #primeshots #orangecamera #xproii #colorful #red

  • Photo KBO!

    KBO!

  • Photo “Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh”

-Robert Frost, ‘The Need of Being Versed in Country Things’

    “Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh”

    -Robert Frost, ‘The Need of Being Versed in Country Things’

For Tumblr
By Peter Vidani
Theme: Papercut
  • Photo via tgswenson
    Photo via tgswenson
  • Photo via poetsorg

    From the Academy Archives: Donald Hall, Grace Schulman, John Ashbery, Brad Leithauser, gathering at the American Museum of Natural History....

    Photo via poetsorg
  • Photo via poetsorg

    A birthday photo from the archives of Edgar Allan Poe.

    Photo via poetsorg
  • Photo via poetsorg
    Photo via poetsorg
  • Video via poetsorg
    Video

    journalofanobody:

    “Under Milk Wood” (prologue) by Dylan Thomas (poetry reading) (by SpokenVerse)

    Video via poetsorg
  • Photo via poetsorg

    Edna St. Vincent Millay.

    Photo via poetsorg
  • Photo via poetsorg

    From “Going for Water” by Robert Frost:

    Now drops that floated on the pool...
    Photo via poetsorg
  • Photoset via poetsorg

    believermag:

    The first in a series of posts documenting the home library of poet, Joshua Beckman.

    Photoset via poetsorg