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cecilyjeanne:

stunningpicture:

Moving out of the apartment

This is, without a doubt, the saddest photo I have ever seen in my ENTIRE LIFE.

cecilyjeanne:

stunningpicture:

Moving out of the apartment

This is, without a doubt, the saddest photo I have ever seen in my ENTIRE LIFE.

boneycircus:

beastlyart:

cchtml:

This feeling when you walk into big art supply stores …

Nghnnn, when I visited friends in Atlanta, GA and Orange County, CA respectively, the first place they took me was Pearl’s Art Supply and the Art Supply Warehouse. The closest thing we have to those here are the craft giants like Michael’s, so I was basically comatose on the floor for an hour. 

hogoddddd Pearl’s in NYC feels.

{ x }

starfleetrambo:

thefaultinourunicorns:

plot twist: your teacher accidentally calls you mom

I’ve been teaching people twice my age since I was 19. Believe me, it happens.

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tastefullyoffensive:

[paperkutrob]
snazziest:

awwww-cute:

She looked perfectly into the camera

she looked perfectly into eternity u mean

snazziest:

awwww-cute:

She looked perfectly into the camera

she looked perfectly into eternity u mean

sixpenceee:

THE BOY WHO LOVED TO READ
Unknown author
Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of 50$.
However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.
There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$

sixpenceee:

THE BOY WHO LOVED TO READ

Unknown author

Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of 50$.

However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.

There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$

sixpenceee:

The Catacombs of the Capuchins in Palermo, Sicily, Southern Italy. I got the pictures from here 

pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand.