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Isn’t it time to acknowledge the ugly side? I’ve grown quite weary of the spunky heroines, brave rape victims, soul-searching fashionistas that stock so many books. I particularly mourn the lack of female villains — good, potent female villains. Not ill-tempered women who scheme about landing good men and better shoes (as if we had nothing more interesting to war over), not chilly WASP mothers (emotionally distant isn’t necessarily evil), not soapy vixens (merely bitchy doesn’t qualify either). I’m talking violent, wicked women. Scary women. Don’t tell me you don’t know some. The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.
– Gillian Flynn (via rabbitinthemoon)

(via marioncotillard)

wmagazine:

Mornings with Marion
Photograph by Juergen Teller; styled by Zoe Bedeaux; W magazine February 2013. 

wmagazine:

Mornings with Marion

Photograph by Juergen Teller; styled by Zoe Bedeaux; W magazine February 2013. 

(via suicideblonde)

Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists… it is real… it is possible… it’s yours.
– Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged (via tellmefive)

(Source: observando, via tellmefive)

I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.
– Michelle Williams (via tellmefive)

(Source: seabois, via tellmefive)

Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

(Source: sothoros, via suicideblonde)

Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.
– Charles Caleb Colton (via mycolorbook)
If most of us remain ignorant of ourselves, it is because self-knowledge is painful and we prefer the pleasures of illusion.
– A. Huxley (via mycolorbook)
books0977:

Interieur (1951). Edgar Fernhout (Dutch, 1912-1974). Centraal Museum Utrecht.
In his early period, Fernhout painted still lifes and portraits. He was initially influenced by his mother’s realistic style. He began to experiment with other styles and subjects, but through the influence of his mother, he returned to a precise realism.

books0977:

Interieur (1951). Edgar Fernhout (Dutch, 1912-1974). Centraal Museum Utrecht.

In his early period, Fernhout painted still lifes and portraits. He was initially influenced by his mother’s realistic style. He began to experiment with other styles and subjects, but through the influence of his mother, he returned to a precise realism.

(via mycolorbook)

Isn’t it time to acknowledge the ugly side? I’ve grown quite weary of the spunky heroines, brave rape victims, soul-searching fashionistas that stock so many books. I particularly mourn the lack of female villains — good, potent female villains. Not ill-tempered women who scheme about landing good men and better shoes (as if we had nothing more interesting to war over), not chilly WASP mothers (emotionally distant isn’t necessarily evil), not soapy vixens (merely bitchy doesn’t qualify either). I’m talking violent, wicked women. Scary women. Don’t tell me you don’t know some. The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.
– Gillian Flynn (via rabbitinthemoon)

(via marioncotillard)

wmagazine:

Mornings with Marion
Photograph by Juergen Teller; styled by Zoe Bedeaux; W magazine February 2013. 

wmagazine:

Mornings with Marion

Photograph by Juergen Teller; styled by Zoe Bedeaux; W magazine February 2013. 

(via suicideblonde)

Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists… it is real… it is possible… it’s yours.
– Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged (via tellmefive)

(Source: observando, via tellmefive)

I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.
– Michelle Williams (via tellmefive)

(Source: seabois, via tellmefive)

Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

(Source: sothoros, via suicideblonde)

Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.
– Charles Caleb Colton (via mycolorbook)
If most of us remain ignorant of ourselves, it is because self-knowledge is painful and we prefer the pleasures of illusion.
– A. Huxley (via mycolorbook)
books0977:

Interieur (1951). Edgar Fernhout (Dutch, 1912-1974). Centraal Museum Utrecht.
In his early period, Fernhout painted still lifes and portraits. He was initially influenced by his mother’s realistic style. He began to experiment with other styles and subjects, but through the influence of his mother, he returned to a precise realism.

books0977:

Interieur (1951). Edgar Fernhout (Dutch, 1912-1974). Centraal Museum Utrecht.

In his early period, Fernhout painted still lifes and portraits. He was initially influenced by his mother’s realistic style. He began to experiment with other styles and subjects, but through the influence of his mother, he returned to a precise realism.

(via mycolorbook)

"Isn’t it time to acknowledge the ugly side? I’ve grown quite weary of the spunky heroines, brave rape victims, soul-searching fashionistas that stock so many books. I particularly mourn the lack of female villains — good, potent female villains. Not ill-tempered women who scheme about landing good men and better shoes (as if we had nothing more interesting to war over), not chilly WASP mothers (emotionally distant isn’t necessarily evil), not soapy vixens (merely bitchy doesn’t qualify either). I’m talking violent, wicked women. Scary women. Don’t tell me you don’t know some. The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids."
"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists… it is real… it is possible… it’s yours."
"I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship."
"Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm."
"If most of us remain ignorant of ourselves, it is because self-knowledge is painful and we prefer the pleasures of illusion."

About:

She was born and then she was eighteen and still she was looking in wonderment at the veins of leaves that matched the veins in her neck. Staring into a mirror she looked and looked and did not find anything but a constellation of freckles and two eyes like oil wells. Black, reflecting rainbows and an unrelenting trap for those who let themselves fall in.

Singapore born, educated in the Northeast.

This is my scrapbook.

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