Dostoevski & The Paper Street Soap Co.

A Simpsons appreciation blog.

heatherbat:

stunningpicture:

‘Cause people seem to only post the 20-something Audrey Hepburn.

Audrey Hepburn was the granddaughter of a baron, the daughter of a nazi sympathizer, spent her teens doing ballet to secretly raise money for the dutch resistance against the nazis, and spent her post-film career as a goodwill ambassador of UNICEF, winning the presidential medal of freedom for her efforts.
…and history remembers her as pretty.

heatherbat:

stunningpicture:

‘Cause people seem to only post the 20-something Audrey Hepburn.

Audrey Hepburn was the granddaughter of a baron, the daughter of a nazi sympathizer, spent her teens doing ballet to secretly raise money for the dutch resistance against the nazis, and spent her post-film career as a goodwill ambassador of UNICEF, winning the presidential medal of freedom for her efforts.

…and history remembers her as pretty.

(via rhianablaugher)

sheisajar:

“Today I pulled three baby snakes out of moss and dirt, where the wild strawberry vines toss and turn,
I told them, “you will grow to be something inventive and electric; you are healthy, you are special, you are present.” Then I let them go…

“Today I pulled three green frogs out of leaf and bark, where the grape vines climb a convenient barn,
I told them, “you will grow to be something tenacious and exalted; you are mighty, you are gracious, you are lauded.” Then I let them go…

“Today I pulled three ghost crabs out of rock and sand, where the low tide showcased a promised land,
I told them, “you will grow to be something dynamic and impressive; you are patient you are gallant you are festive.”
Then I let them go.

Oh…”

(Source: youtube.com)

beccaoneal:

yeah

beccaoneal:

yeah

(Source: u-could-be-mine)

As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.

A robin with no Christian name ran through
The Robin-Anthem which was all it knew,
And rustling flowers for some third party waited
To say which pairs, if any, should get mated.

Not one of them was capable of lying,
There was not one which knew that it was dying
Or could have with a rhythm or a rhyme
Assumed responsibility for time.

Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep:
Words are for those with promises to keep.

—   

W.H. Auden

“Their Lonely Betters”

1950

(Source: yimmyayo, via jesuisperdu)