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you  say  :    ❛   𝘿𝙤𝙣  𝘾𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚  ,    𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚  𝙢𝙚  𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚 .   ❜   𝐁𝐮𝐭  𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭  𝐚𝐬𝐤  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 .     independent  ,    private  ,    &&    highly  selective  Vito  Corleone  from  The  Godfather   &&    The  Godfather  II  ,    by  mandinha .

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I am on @machaera for the time being for anyone recently checking out this blog but I'm working on seeing what I am going to do here

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taps mic is anyone still here

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when vito goes “But I am a superstitious man...and so if some unlucky accident should befall my youngest son, if some police officer should accidentally shoot him, or if he should hang himself in his cell, or if my son is struck by a bolt of lightning, then I will blame some of the people here. That, I could never forgive“ in the movie vs: 

“But let me say this. I am a superstitious man, a ridiculous failing but I must confess it here. And so if some unlucky accident should befall my youngest son, if some police officer should accidentally shoot him, if he should hang himself in his cell, if new witnesses appear to testify to his guilt, my superstition will make me feel that it was the result of the ill will still borne me by some people here. Let me go further. If my son is struck by a bolt of lightning I will blame some of the people here. If his plane show fall into the sea or his ship sink beneath the waves of the ocean, if he should catch a mortal fever, if his automobile should be struck by a train, such is my superstition that I would blame the ill will felt by people here. Gentlemen, that ill will, that bad luck, I could never forgive” in the book

[artfoli]

Still Life with Flowers, 1665, by Willem van Aelst (1627-after 1682 )

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malluck

𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 ,      𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 ,      for evidence      lies      in the way      dull irises drop ,      become      cognizant      to staples      of      corridor      –      how they fall      sober      in light      of      utterance .      a fool      in      a sea of men ,     solidifying form      of      close - mouthed      regret      as fringes      of impetuous instincts      agitate ,      𝚘𝚗𝚎      𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎       𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝      in all his haze ,      skewing judgement      between      paranoia      and       logic .      he stands there ,      motionless .      ❝     and what will happen       after i      walk      out      of here ?     ❞

          IT IS THEN when the garlands of shadows dovetail the room as if there had always been their rightful belonging    &&    in those pools of onyx ,     within their gilded hems ,     is the rare unmasking of their true nature :     some private joke only don corleone could savor .      he smiles ,     &&    though it attempts no menace it does not reach his eyes which bear a harrowing starkness .      a pledge made in blood    &&    redeemable in blood only .      caved    &&    drawn as if within funeral cloth .         ❝        if i am to guess ,     i would say a tired man should head home    &&    rest .      but what you do when you step out there is no business to me .        ❞

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          ❝        i said i would see you because i've heard you're a serious man  ,     to be treated with respect  .  .  .        ❞          the don    &&    the reflection of the don in the pierglass carried about them an air of severity .      untempered waters but ‘lo ,     steel - colored is the horizon .      his hands unfold ,     opening his palm in a gesture of sympathy as if against his will .          ❝        but i have to say no to you .        ❞

@nekuromansa​       🥀

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malluck​

𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚜 ,      𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑      staggering      lids      as he fails      to keep them     pried open ,      sober ,     as if      final stages      of      slumber      have      taken him over ,      and he’s already      sleep walking .      ❝     i’m tired    (  …  )     ❞      plain      against      debilitation ,      albeit agitated ,      contending towards      another’s voice ,      as 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎       𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 ,      tapers off      𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 ,      begrudging       𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚛 .      ❝     m’ tired      of      listening      to you .      tired of doin’       what      you      say .     ❞

@andolini​​

          ❝        then why are we talking ?      why do you waste my time by coming here ?    ––– ––– ––– -       . . . is there a gun against your head ?        ❞          clink of a decanter’s the pin drop in a silent room .      the vacuous preponderance of a silent breath hanging heavy over the tables ,     the glozy bloom of yellow lamplights over the hum of electric ancillary running a fenceline through anomic corridors ,     the wilt of his eyelids before he waves a dismissive gesture to tom    &&    stands motioning towards the door all have about them a sense of novel callousness  .          ❝        it’s not mine if there is .        ❞

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one liner starter call lets go....

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I was going to post the opening scene because despite it being quoted so much & so early on , it’s an amazing scene that does a good job at introducing us to Vito and showing us what kind of person he is but. I’m going to leave these two here instead.

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❝      𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎  𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜  𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐  𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑  ?      ❞        there’s  a  skitter  ,    an  imposterous  shadow  scampering  beneath  his  desk  .      a  cold  blooded  cat  pandering  in  resplendent  gray  furs  ,    tilting  her  nose  upwards  in  ignorant  mockery  .      sometimes  it’s  scoffed  ,    snuffed  in  the  fabric  of  an  italian  -  tailored  dress  shirt  ,    the  repetitive  coin  indenting  mahogany  or  the  willow  of  a  structure  creating  an  illusion  entirely  nautical  .      (  barking  faux  soldiers  stampeding  into  boroughs  lined  with  eyes  that  watched  without  hope  ,    without  wonder  or  despair  .      a  gold  mallet  that  swayed  in  the  direction  of  copper  instead  of  the  wind  ,    called  justice  .  )      he  pours  her  a  drink  before  turning  his  palm  upward  ,    as  if  it  to  say  what  a  shame  .        ❝      i  could  have  helped  with  the  judge  if  you’d  spoken  to  me  about  it  .      but  i  can  understand  why  you  don’t  want  to  .    ❞   /   @asperad​

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hm.

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        𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲  𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭  𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞  𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧  𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝  𝐭𝐨  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧  𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐚  𝐧𝐞𝐰  𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞  𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲  𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 .    the  iron  gray  glaucoma  adopting  the  sky   &&    draping  a  traffic  labored  ghostland  in  beaded  curtains  of  icelets  that  clung  to  the  don    &&    relented  against  the  dry  breaths  of  the  hotel  room’s  radiators  .    he  had  been  the  one  to  opt  for  a  change  in  scenery  from  the  comfort  of  his  study  where  meetings  of  this  nature  erupted  occasion  to  occasion  ,    with  names  illegitimate  or  names  of  politicians  that  have  frothed  at  capitol  hill    &&    likely  the  other  man’s  mouth  in  conversation  ,    &&    if  for  that  reason  Christopher  Brady  suspected  the  don  intended  to  treat  him  unlike  any  other  well  received  guest  ,    the  well  tailored  furnishings    &&    immaculate  tidiness  of  the  open  floor  suite  they  intend  to  occupy  not  more  than  a  few  hours  indicate  different  .

the  don’s  courtesy  was  not  to  be  confused  as  an  act  a  friendship  any  more  than  it  was  politeness  .      as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  rare  that  Hagen  ,    who  sat  in  a  grass  toned  leather  chair  ,    watched  him  act  coldly    –    only  extending  a  brief  handshake  in  welcoming  ,    &&    rarer  that  his  patience  cut  short  ,    lidding  his  eyes  almost  closed    &&    with  the  coarseness  of  sandpaper  returning  ,      ❝    in  what  position  can  any  man  afford  to  look  ridiculous  ?    a  man  with  a  good  reputation  on  him  has  the  support  to  bring  himself  back  up  from  a  bad  situation  .    now  let  that  be  a  man  with  nothing  but  everything  to  lose  .    ❞      

a  sheet  of  smoke  rose  from  his  mouth  ,    twisting  with  ashen  faces  towards  the  buildings  weighed  with  murk  past  the  unveiled  window  at  the  pushed  back  wall  .      ❝    i’m  not  a  mind  reader  .    if  you’re  asking  me  for  a  favor  ,    it’s  better  you  be  clear  with  it  .    ❞    /    🥀 @newsworth​

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ilpadrinho   >   andolini

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i hope you're having an absolutely lovely day

omg anon...  i hope u r too <33

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asperad·:

“  That’s  not  how  I  work.  ”          A  pause,    brow  lifted,    sight  fixated  on  the  other,    not  daring  to  falter.          “  I  don’t  play  by  your  rules,    Mr  Corleone. ”

        ❝       that much i am aware   ,       ❞      don corleone starts   ,     raising a hand to refer to something before turning his palm upward thus perpetually miring it in the anonymity wafted in the faux niches of the walls  .        ❝       but it isn’t what i meant  .       ❞

his hand drops   ,     heavy like the pendulum of a grandfather clock dislocating from a copper stem  .       hardly any sound erupts from the woodentop it lands on  .        ❝       you could have saved yourself a trip  .       ❞

[brody75]

The Godfather: Part II (1974)