Photoset reblogged from This must be Thursday... with 349,047 notes
“I’m sad.”
“OK. I’ll lick you until you’re not sad.”
“…OK.”
Source: dailyanimals
Link reblogged from isaac's real mother with 652 notes
The Western Lit Survival Kit (Part I) →
yosb:
Greece: Cradle of (Greek) Civilization
- Homer: Iliad, Odyssey
- Hesiod: Theogony, Works and Days
- Sappho, Pindar
- Aeschylus: Promotheus Bound, The Oresteia
- Sophocles: Oedipus Rex / Oedipus at Colonus / Antigone
- Euripides: Medea
- Aristophanes: Lysistrata, The Clouds, The Frogs, The Birds
Rome: When the World Was Ruled by Italians
- Catallus, Propertius, Tibullus
- Virgil: The Eclogues, The Georgics, The Aeneid
- Ovid: The Metamorphoses, The Art of Love
- Horace: Epodes and Satires, Odes
- St. Augustine of Hippo: Confessions
The Middle Ages and Points Between
- Beowulf
- The Song of Roland
- Chrétien de Troyes: Lancelot, le chevalier de la Charrette (Knight of the Cart)
- Thomas Mallory: Le Morte d’Arthur
- Peter Abélard and Héloïse d’Argenteuil: The History of My Misfortunes, Letters
- Romance de la Rose (Romance of the Rose)
- Geoffrey Chaucer: Troilus and Criseyde, The Canterbury Tales
- Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
- Dante Alighieri: La Vita Nuova, Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso
The Renaissance: Back to the Future
- Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch): Il Canzoniere
- Giovanni Boccaccio: The Decameron
- Benvenuto Cellini: Autobiography
- François Villon: poems
- François Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel
- Michel de Montaigne: essays
- Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra: Don Quixote
- Christopher Marlowe: The Jew of Malta, Doctor Faustus, Edward II
- Edmund Spenser: The Faerie Queene
- William Shakespeare: see below
- Ben Jonson: Volpone, The Alchemist
William "Look At Me, I Get My Own Chapter" Shakespeare
- The Tragedies: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello, Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet, Cymbeline, Coriolanus
- The Histories: Richard II, King Henry IV (Part One, Part Two), Henry V, Richard III
- The Comedies: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, The Taming of the Shew, The Merchant of Venice, The Tempest, The Comedy of Errors, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Twelfth Night, As You Like It
- sonnets
Here Come the Puritans: Parade, Meet Rain
- Cavaliers: Robert Herrick, Richard Lovelace, John Suckling, Thomas Carew
- Metaphysics: John Donne, George Herbert, Henry Vaughn, Abraham Cowley, Richard Crawshaw, Andrew Marvell
- John Bunyan: Grace Abounding, Pilgrim’s Progress
- John Milton: Paradise Lost, poems
you’re fucking welcome
Source: yosb
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Ariadne and Dionysus
I am your labyrinth...
Post reblogged from exit smiling with 267 notes
i’ll be honest with you, it’s only going to get gayer and weirder from here on out.
Source: rhamphotheca
Photo reblogged from This must be Thursday... with 2,508 notes
Every. Night.
booksofadam.com
Source: booksofadam
Post reblogged from Smaragdina with 10,775 notes
“Persephone Lied”
The truth is, I was bored.
My mother blissing ahead of me, rosebuds rising in her footsteps,
And I skulking behind, thinking,
Oh look. She walks in beauty.
Again.Her power could boil rivers, if she chose.
She doesn’t choose. She scatters
Heliotrope behind her.And me, I’ve no powers. I think she’d like
A decorative daughter. A link to the humans
She feeds with her scattered wheat.
A daughter wed to a swineherd’s just the thing
To show that Demeter’s a down-to-earth
Kind of goddess.Do you know what swineherds talk about?
Swine.
Diseases of, ways to cook;
“That ‘un’s got no milk for ‘er shoats;
Him, there, he’s got boggy trotters.”And when he leaned in, smiling,
While we sat in a bower sagged with Mother’s honeysuckle,
When he said, “Now,
My herd’s growing and I’m thinking I could feed a wife—”
That’s when I snapped, I howled, I ran.And when a hole opened up, a beautiful black, in all the pastels of my mother’s sowing.
Let me fix the lie: Nobody grabbed, nobody pulled.
I jumped.I thought it was a tiny earthquake,
Thought I was killing myself,
Starting a long journey to Hades.
It was a more direct trip
Then I’d imagined—
I landed in his lap.He just looked at me, said “Well,”
And kept driving his chariot down,
Flicked his leather reins near my face.
He did not give me flowers.
He never spoke of pigs.Didn’t speak much at all. Just took me down in darkness
And did dark things.
I liked them.I stumbled through his grey gardens, after,
Sore and smiling.
And the gardener said, “Little girl,
Little sunlit flower,
You belong in the world above.
Trust that they’ll come for nyou,
But while you wait
Don’t eat the food of the dead, for it will trap you here.”
And I said give me the fucking fruit.But when I ate I could hear her howling,
See her spreading winter on the world.
My poor mother, who missed me after all;
My poor swineherd, starving.
Huddled up for warmth with the few he hadn’t eaten.I spat out half the seeds.
So now I suffer through the summers,
Smile at the swineherd who tells me
Which shoat is off its feed.
Smile at my mother and walk behind her.
My powers have come to me now, and in her candy-colored wake I scatter
Sundew and flytrap, nettles and belladonna.I smile and wait for November,
For when I come back to you.
Your clever cold hands and your hard black boots.
I don’t ask what the leather is made from.
I don’t think I want to know.
Source: spuffyduds.livejournal.com
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