However

a little bit of everything

[ginjointsandwhiskeyshots-deacti]

The memorial tablet commemorating the Bronte sisters in Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey -

“With courage to endure”

[however]

Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. Love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves it’s own mark. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.

J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone)

[however]

I Miss you Mum, my shining light. Thank you for all the happy memories.

Love you forever.

[however]

“It also proved, nine pages into his first novel, that the writer, Colin Dexter, was as deft with the misdirection and playfulness of cryptic cluing as he was with the same elements of the whodunnit.” (via The Guardian)

Thank you and RIP Colin Dexter.

[murderorriblemurder]

Colin Dexter, creator of Inspector Morse, dies aged 86 - BBC News

The crime writer died peacefully at his home in Oxford on Tuesday, his publisher says.

Ensanguining the skies How heavily it dies    Into the west away; Past touch and sight and sound Not further to be found, How hopeless under ground    Falls the remorseful day.

[however]

[however]

Sisters, Wanda Robson and Viola Desmond.

  'It's a really big day to have my big sister on a banknote.'   —Wanda Robson, 89

[however]

Black rights activist Viola Desmond to be 1st Canadian woman on $10 bill.

[cosmoniac-deactivated20210412]

Home is where mom is.

[thedustdancestoo]

To the storytellers: type, scribble, scrawl, write, scream your story into existence, and whatever you do, don’t look back.

thedustdancestoo (via thedustdancestoo)

[however]

[however]

For my beloved mother, my endless love. Always remembered.

[materialleisure]

Pre-internet days: instead of Tumblr, we used bulletin boards and magazine clippings, usually for an audience of (n)one. 

[seabois]

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running - that’s the way to live.

Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums  (via seabois)

[everysinglewordspoken]

[wnq-music]

No one is you and that is your power.

Dave Grohl (via moaka)

[lifeinpoetry]

I’m tired, can’t think of a thing, and my sole wish is to lay my head in your lap, feel your hand on my head, and stay that way through all eternity—

Franz Kafka, from Letters to Milena (via lifeinpoetry)