DON'T PANIC

[[I read because one of these days I'm going to get out of this town, and I'm going to go everywhere and meet everybody, and I want to be ready.]]
~ Monday, May 28 ~
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a Work in Progress. 

a Work in Progress. 


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~ Thursday, May 17 ~
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scuig:

estebito:

Just after you think you’ve seen everything, and that there’s nothing that can surprise you anymore, you come across this.

What is this?! I don’t even..

So many questions..

Dafuq I just saw

I just can’t stop laughing, I just can’t


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~ Monday, May 7 ~
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(Source: lukeskinner)


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(Source: wbsloan)


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Home is where the heart your library is. 

Home is where the heart your library is. 


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the-shade-of-sonic-lipstick:

But to me, Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all. Certainly the most popular great painter of all time. The most beloved. His command of color, the most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world. No one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange wild man who roamed the fields of Provence, was not only the world’s greatest artist but also one of the greatest men who ever lived.


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PENIS. 

PENIS. 

(Source: mellifluousamanda)


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~ Tuesday, May 1 ~
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i feel like my tumblr has a lot of men, recently. 
[hottt men].  


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So sexy. 

So sexy. 


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…hottt.

(Source: chrisevansed)


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The world fills me with awe. 

The world fills me with awe. 


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~ Tuesday, April 17 ~
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You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

— Aaron Freeman

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