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(Source: hugepupils)

Play count: 48 Reblogged from: A Bloody Mess / Post was created by: hugepupils Reblog notes: 5 notes
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linzo:

always reblog

linzo:

always reblog

(Source: wehopeyourrulesandwisdomchokeyou)

Reblogged from: linzo / Post was created by: wehopeyourrulesandwisdomchokeyou Reblog notes: 52,725 notes
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“In 1979, when the minimum wage was $2.90, a hard-working student with a minimum-wage job could earn enough in one day (8.44 hours) to pay for one academic credit hour. If a standard course load for one semester consisted of maybe 12 credit hours, the semester’s tuition could be covered by just over two weeks of full-time minimum wage work—or a month of part-time work. A summer spent scooping ice cream or flipping burgers could pay for an MSU education. The cost of an MSU credit hour has multiplied since 1979. So has the federal minimum wage. But today, it takes 60 hours of minimum-wage work to pay off a single credit hour, which was priced at $428.75 for the fall semester.”
The Myth of Working Your Way Through College - Svati Kirsten Narula - The Atlantic (via infoneer-pulse)
Reblogged from: linzo / Post was created by: infoneer-pulse Reblog notes: 37,582 notes
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the-final-sentence:

the-final-sentence:

March 6 - Gabriel García Márquez
Bio:  Born on March 6, 1928, writer Gabriel García Márquez grew up listening to family tales. After college, he became a journalist. His work introduced readers to magical realism, which combines fact and fantasy. His novels Cien años de soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude) and El amor en los tiempos del cólera (Love in the Time of Cholera) have drawn worldwide audiences. He won a Nobel Prize in 1982. [2]
Anecdotes:
The highly political Marquez has long been a friend of Cuban president Fidel Castro. [3]
He claims that he wrote the book “One Hundred Years of Solitude” barricaded in his study in Mexico, after receiving a vision. One day, while he and his wife and children were in their car driving to Acapulco, he saw that he “had to tell [his] story the way his grandmother used to tell hers, and that [he] was to start from that afternoon in which a father took his child to discover ice.” He made an abrupt U-turn on the highway, the car never made it to Acapulco, and he locked himself in his study. Fifteen months later, he emerged with the manuscript, only to meet his wife holding a stack of bills. They traded papers, and she put the manuscript in the mail to his publisher. [4]
He has a yellow rose or tulip on his writing desk each day. [5]
When he was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, he gamely declared to the world that the disease was an “enormous stroke of luck” because it finally forced him to write his memoirs. [6]
Final sentences:






‘Forever,’ he said.

from Love in the Time of Cholera (translated by Edith Grossman)











[He stumbled on the last step, but he got up at once. “He even took care to brush off the dirt that was stuck to his guts,” my Aunt Wene told me.] Then he went into his house through the back door that had been open since six and fell on his face in the kitchen.

from Chronicle of a Death Foretold











[And she, with a sad smile—which was already a smile of surrender to the impossible, the unreachable—said: “Yet you won’t remember anything during the day.” And she put her hands back over the lamp, her features darkened by a bitter cloud.] “You’re the only man who doesn’t remember anything of what he’s dreamed after he wakes up.

from Eyes of a Blue Dog (short story)

Only then did she understand that three thousand years had passed since the day she had had a desire to eat the first orange.

from Eva is Inside Her Cat (short story)

Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.

from One Hundred Years of Solitude





Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

RIP Gabriel García Márquez

the-final-sentence:

the-final-sentence:

March 6 - Gabriel García Márquez

Bio:  Born on March 6, 1928, writer Gabriel García Márquez grew up listening to family tales. After college, he became a journalist. His work introduced readers to magical realism, which combines fact and fantasy. His novels Cien años de soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude) and El amor en los tiempos del cólera (Love in the Time of Cholera) have drawn worldwide audiences. He won a Nobel Prize in 1982. [2]

Anecdotes:

  • The highly political Marquez has long been a friend of Cuban president Fidel Castro. [3]
  • He claims that he wrote the book “One Hundred Years of Solitude” barricaded in his study in Mexico, after receiving a vision. One day, while he and his wife and children were in their car driving to Acapulco, he saw that he “had to tell [his] story the way his grandmother used to tell hers, and that [he] was to start from that afternoon in which a father took his child to discover ice.” He made an abrupt U-turn on the highway, the car never made it to Acapulco, and he locked himself in his study. Fifteen months later, he emerged with the manuscript, only to meet his wife holding a stack of bills. They traded papers, and she put the manuscript in the mail to his publisher. [4]
  • He has a yellow rose or tulip on his writing desk each day. [5]
  • When he was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, he gamely declared to the world that the disease was an “enormous stroke of luck” because it finally forced him to write his memoirs. [6]

Final sentences:

‘Forever,’ he said.

from Love in the Time of Cholera (translated by Edith Grossman)

[He stumbled on the last step, but he got up at once. “He even took care to brush off the dirt that was stuck to his guts,” my Aunt Wene told me.] Then he went into his house through the back door that had been open since six and fell on his face in the kitchen.

from Chronicle of a Death Foretold

[And she, with a sad smile—which was already a smile of surrender to the impossible, the unreachable—said: “Yet you won’t remember anything during the day.” And she put her hands back over the lamp, her features darkened by a bitter cloud.] “You’re the only man who doesn’t remember anything of what he’s dreamed after he wakes up.

from Eyes of a Blue Dog (short story)

Only then did she understand that three thousand years had passed since the day she had had a desire to eat the first orange.

from Eva is Inside Her Cat (short story)

Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.

from One Hundred Years of Solitude

Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

RIP Gabriel García Márquez

Reblogged from: The final sentence. / Post was created by: the-final-sentence Reblog notes: 805 notes
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lunar-rayne:

”..The God Graveyard, old gods that have been worshiped throughout our history but are no longer prayed to, how many more will be thrown into the wind?…”

Reblogged from: A Wish Upon A Shooting Star / Post was created by: lunar-rayne Reblog notes: 235,651 notes
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camillamorelli:

Swirlies, 1993

camillamorelli:

Swirlies, 1993

Reblogged from: VOLTAIRE NO. 6 / Post was created by: camillamorelli Reblog notes: 116 notes
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today is my birthday hey btw

today is my birthday hey btw

(Source: potsi-miau)

Reblogged from: we all live secret lives / Post was created by: potsi-miau Reblog notes: 55,833 notes
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sharped0:

rottenmeats:

killbenedictcumberbatch:

*white guy shoots up jewish community center*
*kills 3 men*
*member of the kkk*
*yells ‘heil hitler’ before being apprehended by police*
"were still unclear on a motive for the suspect"

Npr said he was a grand dragon too in the kkk

The clues dont add up what does it mean

Reblogged from: STFU Fauxminists! / Post was created by: killbenedictcumberbatch Reblog notes: 16,136 notes
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“Undermining the ego’s thought system must be perceived as painful, even though this is anything but true. Babies scream in rage if you take away a knife or scissors, although they may well harm themselves if you do not. In this sense you are still a baby.”
from A Course in Miracles (via outshiningvoid)
Reblogged from: life is art / Post was created by: outshiningvoid Reblog notes: 14 notes
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(Source: luciid-dr3ams)

Reblogged from: The Secret Architecture Of The Middleman / Post was created by: luciid-dr3ams Reblog notes: 199,515 notes
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