I'm Jonathan, I'm twenty one, and I'm having a mad, passionate affair with every book I've ever read.
" Some of the Quaker doctrines seemed a little curious to those not accustomed to them. I remember my mother-in-law explaining that she was taught to the consider the Lord’s Prayer ‘gay’. At first this remark caused bewilderment, but she explained that everything done by non-Quakers but not by Quakers was called ‘gay’, and this included the use of all fixed formulas, since prayer ought to be inspired by the Holy Spirit. The Lord’s Prayer, being a fixed formula, was therefore ‘gay’. On another occasion she informed the dinner table that she had been brought up to have no respect for the Ten Commandments. They were also ‘gay’. "
Reading Bertrand Russell’s autobiography from a modern day perspective can be fun.

(Source: sangfroidwoolf)


Man Ray, Matisse, Bonnard, Duchamp, Breton, Cocteau, Joyce, Benjamin, Beauvoir - photographs by Gisèle Freund. 

(via theblahinspirations)

" Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you’ll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit. "
Neil Gaiman

(via le-manja)

" A young lady rushed up to me in Pasadena and said she was writing a book about you and me. Isn’t that nice for us? "
Vita Sackville-West, in a letter to Virginia Woolf, dated 28 March 1933.

(Source: sangfroidwoolf)

" Oh, I was in such a rage of jealousy the other night, thinking you had been in love with Hilda [Matheson] that summer you went to the Alps together! Because you said you weren’t. Now, were you? Did you do the act under the Dolomites? Why should I mind this, when its all over - that tour - I don’t know. But I do. D’yu remember coming to confession, or rather justification, in my lodge? And you weren’t guilty then, were you? You swore you weren’t. Anyhow my Elizabeth [Bowen] comes to see me, alone, tomorrow… "
Virginia Woolf, in a letter to Vita Sackville-West, dated 18 October 1932.

(Source: sangfroidwoolf)

" The French called this time of day “l’heure bleue.” To the English it was “the gloaming.” The very word “gloaming” reverberates, echoes—the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour—carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows. During the blue nights you think the end of day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice: the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone. "
Joan Didion, Blue Nights 

(via le-manja)

Anonymous asked: Do those of us who've stumbled upon you on Grindr get to see it there? :P

Sometimes I think that London is vast and endless and expansive but it always turns out that there’s only about twelve people that live there and they’re all gay and they’ve all seen my dick. Ugh.

let-them-eat-cute asked: Your text posts are consistently risqué atm and I am 100% okay with this

My life is like perhaps 68% risqué so I think it’s only appropriate that I use this platform to appropriately and adequately discuss my love for dick (which is abundant.) 

Anonymous asked: Just wondering, but what books did you pack?

I had seven books on The Waves that I was perusing for my dissertation, Joyce’s Ulysses, ‘Shakespeare: Staging the World’, Vilette, The Complete Poems of T.S. Eliot, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Heart of Darkness, and Middlemarch. The latter is what I began reading two weeks ago, and I’m still only half way through. It’s like trudging through Victorian smelling mud in an endless field of nineteenth century neologisms and references. 

" …the obscure soul of the world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. "
James Joyce, from Ulysses

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

" Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise? "
Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie (via the-r-world)

(Source: feellng, via themanicdoll)

" Language is a complex, specialized skill, which develops in the child spontaneously, without conscious effort or formal instruction, is deployed without awareness of its underlying logic, is qualitatively the same in every individual, and is distinct from more general abilities to process information or behave intelligently "
Steven Pinker, ‘The Language Instinct’, 1994, p. 18. (via linguisticious)

(via justanoldsport)

Everyone around me on this train is flat out asleep apart from me and the creepy curly headed kid sat directly opposite me, who is occasionally staring.

Guys I refuse to die at the hands of an insufferable looking little kid. I dislike kids too much for that crap.