Inglourious Basterds (2009) dir. Quentin Tarantino

Before you speak, ask yourself, is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence?
— Sai Baba  (via stayinflyyy)

You said it yourself, bitch, we’re the guardians of the galaxy.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not solid. I’m hollow. There’s nothing behind my eyes. I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.
Sylvia Plath (via insanity-and-vanity)

You opened them up, and they realize their destiny as Sailor Guardians.

Sailor Moon Crystal | Jupiter Power Make Up

to the people who have followed me lately that I did not greet

image

Before we begin you must all be warned, nothing here is vegetarian.

There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via larmoyante)

“I play alpha women quite a lot,” she admits, and has only one reason for that. “I am an alpha woman.”
Gillian also has no issue affirming that she is a natural born badass.
"I’m definitely a punk at heart and I feel like I have to keep that aspect of myself in check on a daily basis,” she says. “I don’t think the rebel ever leaves. That’s probably why people come to me for that type of character, and I’m down with that.”
MarcAndrew.ca, September 2014

“I play alpha women quite a lot,” she admits, and has only one reason for that. “I am an alpha woman.”

Gillian also has no issue affirming that she is a natural born badass.

"I’m definitely a punk at heart and I feel like I have to keep that aspect of myself in check on a daily basis,” she says. “I don’t think the rebel ever leaves. That’s probably why people come to me for that type of character, and I’m down with that.”

MarcAndrew.ca, September 2014

Dean Young, “Changing Genres”

poem-locker:

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you,
jar of octopus, cuckoo’s cry, 5-7-5,
but now I want a Russian novel,
a 50-page description of you sleeping,
another 75 of what you think staring out
a window. I don’t care about the plot
although I suppose there will have to be one,
the usual separation of the lovers, turbulent
seas, danger of decommission in spite
of constant war, time in gulps and glitches
passing, squibs of threnody, a fallen nest,
speckled eggs somehow uncrushed, the sled
outracing the wolves on the steppes, the huge
glittering ball where all that matters
is a kiss at the end of a dark hall.
At dawn the officers ride back to the garrison,
one without a glove, the entire last chapter
about a necklace that couldn’t be worn
inherited by a great-niece
along with the love letters bound in silk.