“—how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints— all that glorious, temporary stuff.”
— Mary Oliver, excerpt of “On Meditating, Sort Of”, in Blue Horses (via antigonick)
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Antoine Verard 1494
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ur early 20s are about being obsessed with kindness and mary oliver and seasonal fruits and recreating comfort foods you ate as a child and learning how to love and crying because you have no choice but to live the life before you and finding god on the bus back from the grocery store
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“Spirit” by George Roux, 1885
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imagine you as a child, rummaging around in the current version of your room. what would they be drawn to?
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I respect bees more than I respect white men in positions of power
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I don't want a fucking job I want to be that elegant woman you see studying in the library all day with her cat and a cup of coffee, pouring over ancient texts with a maddening half-smile on her face.
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obsessed with this review
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I grieve for younger me.
You deserved better and you really didn’t know.
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“But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn’t exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared?”
M. Bulgakov ~ The Master and Margarita
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honestly i’m sick of white women talking about normalizing “ugliness” when they’re talking about features that majority of people of color have and only a few white people have. like you’re gonna complain about your nose which is a little big and crooked and u’d look at other people of color who are just minding their own business and tell them we need to normalize ugliness!!!! like stop we’re not ugly, your ancestors decided that we’re ugly and now we’re still trying to unlearn it i know u thought you were saying in it in a feminist way but it’s actually racist af. like this belief that the point isn’t about being beautiful it’s about learning to accept yourself is worth nothing because u choose to give women of color a label anyway. your sentiments come from racism, like what if i tell you today that i don’t want to think of myself as ugly lmao.
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Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Pride and prejudice : a novel, 1833.
*2004G-11
Houghton Library, Harvard University
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Source.
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Imagine not reinventing yourself with each piece of writing you read
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