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A British soldier ‘shakes hands’ with a kitten on a snowy bank in Neulette, Pas-de-Calais. 17th December 1917. © IWM (Q 6400) (Colourised by Doug UK).

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Lord Byron gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom … at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don’t suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer. Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… . [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective … . I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes.

Percy Bysshe Shelley on the lifestyle of Lord Byron (via timemarauder)

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I would date an actor just so I can tell people that my boyfriend’s an actor and then they’d be like “oh? What’s he been in?” And I’d say “me” and raise my wine glass and laugh because in this scenario I’m at a fancy cocktail party.

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“We met at university– so there was an audition that night for this show, and I saw this guy, kinda leaning over this girl and he had this reggae hat on– like a Jamaican flag, crochet hat– and you know, he’s a good looking guy, he’s very confident, and I just instantly disliked this guy.” –Jemaine Clement 

 “If you print a picture of me in the nineties and show it to Jemaine, just a little shadow ripples through him, and he has to look at me now to remind himself that he likes me.” –Taika Waititi

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Denizler Kitabevi Bookshop in Istanbul, specializing in antique maps and maritime books.

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someone: you been sick?

me: no, crying

someone (reluctantly): oh. how come?

me: i lost something

someone: what did you lose?

me: my pride and my self respect holla (starts crying again)

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Witches like the slow jamz

Witches going to their Sabbath (1878), Luis Ricardo Falero / Slow Jamz, Kanye West feat. Twista, Jamie Foxx

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We got a world premiere right here, now get live!

Hell (1450), Dirk Bouts / Drop It Like It’s Hot, Snoop Dogg feat. Pharell Williams

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so many deaths this year. bowie, prince, taylor swift and now brangelina. when will it stop?

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fuckin gmail is a real friend not like u fake friends

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me: back on tumblr for the first time in a year  

me: unfollows literally all my fandom blogs and mark ruffalo

me: follows a fuckton of history meme blogs

me: lives my best life

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I LEARNED RECENTLY THAT PLATO WON THE GOLD MEDAL IN THE OLYMPICS FOR WRESTLING THREE TIMES. THIS PUTS A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON THINGS. I ALWAYS IMAGINED PLATO TO BE FRAIL AND MISSHAPEN BUT HE MUST HAVE BEEN FRICKEN RIPPED. I WONDER IF ARISTOTLE EVER FELT ANXIETY ABOUT GETTING PHYSICALLY (I.E. NOT JUST METAPHYSICALLY) DISMANTLED BY PLATO. PLATO WAS PROBABLY PISSED OFF BY AT LEAST A HANDFUL OF QUESTIONS ARISTOTLE ASKED HIM. ARISTOTLE WAS A LITERAL GENIUS TOO. IMAGINE PLATO LECTURING AND WRITING ON A BLACKBOARD AND ARISTOTLE THROWING A COMMENT OUT THERE ABOUT SOME COMPLEX MISSTEP IN PLATO’S LOGIC AND PLATO’S CHALK JUST SNAPS AND ARISTOTLE’S TESTICLES SUCK WAY BACK UP TO WHERE THEY DROPPED FROM, THEN PLATO IN A BLUR APPEARS BESIDE ARISTOTLE SITTING AT HIS DESK AND HE PICKS HIM UP AND SUPLEXES HIS MACEDONIAN ASS.

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Rosamund Pike as Grace Kelly for the Guardian