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feferi-captor:

get out your VCR’s it’s time to watch The Prince of Egypt. or you can watch it here.

please don’t watch exodus: gods and kings because it’s icky and racist. you deserve better. you deserve the prince of egypt.

(via dragonfiretwistedwire)

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gabriels-moose:

strangesadday:

define-werewolf:

things you should totes not view as positive portrayals of love/romance:

  • the great gatsby
  • romeo & juliet
  • the phantom of the opera
  • snape
  • Fifty Shades of Grey

(via dragonfiretwistedwire)

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The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

(Source: zoeysbensons, via dragonfiretwistedwire)

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howtocatchamonster:

A lot of actors act intelligent, but Philip was the real thing: a shining, artistic polymath with an intelligence that came at you like a pair of headlights and enveloped you from the moment he grabbed your hand, put a huge arm round your neck and shoved a cheek against yours; or if the mood took him, hugged you to him like a big, pudgy schoolboy, then stood and beamed at you while he took stock of the effect.
 Philip took vivid stock of everything, all the time. It was painful and exhausting work, and probably in the end his undoing. The world was too bright for him to handle. He had to screw up his eyes or be dazzled to death. Like Chatterton, he went seven times round the moon to your one, and every time he set off, you were never sure he’d come back, which is what I believe somebody said about the German poet Hölderlin: Whenever he left the room, you were afraid you’d seen the last of him. And if that sounds like wisdom after the event, it isn’t. Philip was burning himself out before your eyes. Nobody could live at his pace and stay the course, and in bursts of startling intimacy he needed you to know it. 
No actor had ever made quite the impact on me that Philip did at that first encounter: not Richard Burton, not Burt Lancaster or even Alec Guinness. Philip greeted me as if he’d been waiting to meet me all his life, which I suspect was how he greeted everyone. But I’d been waiting to meet Philip for a long time. I reckoned his “Capote” the best single performance I’d seen on screen. But I didn’t dare tell him that, because there’s always a danger with actors, when you tell them how great they were nine years ago, that they demand to know what’s been wrong with their performances ever since. 
There was a problem about accents. We had really good German actors who spoke English with a German accent. Collective wisdom dictated, not necessarily wisely, that Philip should do the same. For the first few minutes of listening to him, I thought, “Crikey.” No German I knew spoke English like this. He did a mouth thing, a kind of pout. He seemed to kiss his lines rather than speak them. Then gradually he did what only the greatest actors can do. He made his voice the only authentic one, the lonely one, the odd one out, the one you depended on amid all the others. And every time it left the stage, like the great man himself, you waited for its return with impatience and mounting unease. 
We shall wait a long time for another Philip. - John le Carré (X)

howtocatchamonster:

A lot of actors act intelligent, but Philip was the real thing: a shining, artistic polymath with an intelligence that came at you like a pair of headlights and enveloped you from the moment he grabbed your hand, put a huge arm round your neck and shoved a cheek against yours; or if the mood took him, hugged you to him like a big, pudgy schoolboy, then stood and beamed at you while he took stock of the effect.

Philip took vivid stock of everything, all the time. It was painful and exhausting work, and probably in the end his undoing. The world was too bright for him to handle. He had to screw up his eyes or be dazzled to death. Like Chatterton, he went seven times round the moon to your one, and every time he set off, you were never sure he’d come back, which is what I believe somebody said about the German poet Hölderlin: Whenever he left the room, you were afraid you’d seen the last of him. And if that sounds like wisdom after the event, it isn’t. Philip was burning himself out before your eyes. Nobody could live at his pace and stay the course, and in bursts of startling intimacy he needed you to know it.

No actor had ever made quite the impact on me that Philip did at that first encounter: not Richard Burton, not Burt Lancaster or even Alec Guinness. Philip greeted me as if he’d been waiting to meet me all his life, which I suspect was how he greeted everyone. But I’d been waiting to meet Philip for a long time. I reckoned his “Capote” the best single performance I’d seen on screen. But I didn’t dare tell him that, because there’s always a danger with actors, when you tell them how great they were nine years ago, that they demand to know what’s been wrong with their performances ever since.

There was a problem about accents. We had really good German actors who spoke English with a German accent. Collective wisdom dictated, not necessarily wisely, that Philip should do the same. For the first few minutes of listening to him, I thought, “Crikey.” No German I knew spoke English like this. He did a mouth thing, a kind of pout. He seemed to kiss his lines rather than speak them. Then gradually he did what only the greatest actors can do. He made his voice the only authentic one, the lonely one, the odd one out, the one you depended on amid all the others. And every time it left the stage, like the great man himself, you waited for its return with impatience and mounting unease.

We shall wait a long time for another Philip. - John le Carré (X)

(via dragonfiretwistedwire)

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"I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live– if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love."

— Hayao Miyazaki (via milktalk)

(Source: nitrateglow, via dragonfiretwistedwire)

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"Otters have a skin flap that forms a pocket so they can keep their favorite rock with them. They use this rock to break open mollusks when eating. Some otters go their entire lives carrying the same rock!” source

"Otters have a skin flap that forms a pocket so they can keep their favorite rock with them. They use this rock to break open mollusks when eating. Some otters go their entire lives carrying the same rock!” source

(Source: metamorphosis-of-a-soul, via niehaws)

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amy-cool:

By- Jenney Peckham resort 2014

amy-cool:

By- Jenney Peckham resort 2014

(via lcubes)

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hellosmitten:

Bobby’s Garden by Megan Rogers

hellosmitten:

Bobby’s Garden by Megan Rogers

(via lcubes)

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"Friendzoning is a terrible thing. The idea of a friend zone is like a terrible, male…have you ever heard a girl say she’s in the friend zone? It’s a thing I think men need to be really careful about using. When they were kicking around titles for What If, before What If was chosen, I think that came up, and I was like, ‘No! Don’t do that!’ Do I think men and women can be friends? Yes, absolutely. Do I think men and women who are sexually attracted to each other can just be friends? Eh, it will probably become an issue at some point whether you deal with it, and talk about it and just move on, but it will always sort of get dealt with eventually…I definitely think the idea of friend zone is just men going, ‘This woman won’t have sex with me.’"

Daniel Radcliffe, getting it (via whokilledcookie)

(Source: lizdexia, via yahighway)