"It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we’re talking about when we talk about love."

Raymond Carver. Also, read this.

oldhollywood:

Jean Seberg in Breathless (1960, dir. Jean-Luc Godard)

I mean, obviously.

"Finally—and perhaps this is all I need to say—Maine has an L.L. Bean outlet* that is open 24 hours, 365 days a year. Who needs flannel pajamas or a monogrammed tent at 3a.m.? Who is the person that is rushing to the Bean at the crack of dawn for river waders and maple candy in the shape of a moose head? I can tell you that these people live in Maine. And that they will offer you mussels and sweetbreads and perfect omelets if you play your cards right."

“Portland, ME: A Small City with Big Eats,” Jauntsetter (via angelawublog)

(Source: jauntsetter.com)

youmightfindyourself:

Flower Seller, Dal Lake, Kashmir, 1996 by Steve McCurry

(Source: audreyhepburncomplex)

RIP, Mr. Greenland.

bingo.

(changetheratio)

oldhollywood:

The Red Balloon (1956, dir. Albert Lamorisse) Full film online here.

this one’s for my mama. (via: theimpossiblecool)

"Feeling sorry, as I trust you will sadly learn, is something of a habit of mine. I am always apologizing, afraid that I have offended someone. This is because I am a person who wishes to be liked all the time. Even by hateful people. Even by historical figures I will never meet. Even by strangers and children and, naturally, by you."

Funny, sad, sweet. And true. John Hodgman on being an only child.

Your Blinded Hand

Suppose that

everything that greens and grows

should blacken in one moment, flower and branch.

I think that I would find your blinded hand.

Suppose that your hand and mine were lost among numberless cries

in a city of fire when the earth is afire,

I must still believe that I would find your blinded hand.

Through flames everywhere

consuming earth and air

I must believe that somehow, if only one moment were offered,

I would

find your hand.

I know as, of course, you know

the immeasurable wilderness that would exist

in the moment of fire.

But I would hear your cry and you’d hear mine and each of us

would find

the other’s hand.

We know

that it might not be so.

But for this quiet moment, if only for this

moment

and against all reason

let us believe, and believe in our hearts,

that somehow it would be so.

I’d hear your cry, you mine –

And each of us would find a blinded hand.

-Tennessee Williams

"My advice for young female writers would be to shoot high and not cower."

Jennifer Egan, in the Wall Street Journal, just minutes after winning the Pulitzer. (via anaees) (via angelawublog)

(Source: emmainpictures)

For some reason, everybody seems reluctant to talk about this….

via

It’s March, so, yeah, this again.

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the promise of life
It’s the joy in your heart