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[bellezzapredatori-blog]

We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving … We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins … We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive are our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers … We are the daughters of the feminists who said, “You can be anything,” and we heard, “You have to be everything.

Courtney Martin, from Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters

Christ. That’s like my biography.

(via hermionejg)

[buzzfeed]

[fruitsgardens]

that was the biggest fucking overreaction im laughing so hard

[violence-of-action-deactivated2]

How do Red Pandas even survive in the wild?

[thecutestofthecute]

I will never not reblog this omg

[nerdonawire-deactivated20180323]

I love how the other one is just all “…you okay Frank”

[gethporno]

CALM DOWN PHIL

[zvoggy]

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[zvoggy]

Je le sais et vous aussi, les lundis sont cruels. Il faut se trainer, recommencer la semaine, regretter ou espérer. Pour les adoucir, je vous propose un rendez vous régulier chez zolbeyrt : chaque lundi nous dégusterons un poème, murmuré tout doucement ou scandé à grand cri, c'est comme vous voulez... Aujourd'hui un poème de W.B. Yeats et sous le cut, la traduction d'Yves Bonnefoy.

THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

L’ÎLE SUR LE LAC, À INNISFREE

Que je me lève et je parte, que je parte pour Innisfree, Que je me bâtisse là une hutte, faite d’argile et de joncs. J’aurai neuf rangs de haricots, j’aurai une ruche Et dans ma clairière je vivrai seul, devenu le bruit des abeilles.

Et là j’aurai quelque paix car goutte à goutte la paix retombe Des brumes du matin sur l’herbe où le grillon chante, Et là minuit n’est qu’une lueur et midi est un rayon rouge Et d’ailes de passereaux déborde le ciel du soir.

Que je me lève et je parte, car nuit et jour J’entends clapoter l’eau paisible contre la rive. Vais-je sur la grand route ou le pavé incolore, Je l’entends dans l’âme du coeur.

[zvoggy]

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