(Source: dream-within-a-dream, via mykehuntissxc)
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.
Franz Kafka
(Source: doubledaybooks)
(via mykehuntissxc)
(Source: thechocolatebrigade)
(Source: holymotherofrowling, via thepinkwalrus)
It all came down to six.
I just couldn’t get rid of American for some reason. Silly glitchy Common App.
Princeton is already in the bag. I can’t really imagine going anywhere else- but who knows?
One more semester?
Merry Christmas!
Shocked. Relieved. Lucky. Ecstatic. Grateful. Accepted.
princeton class of 2016.
(Source: totalfilm)
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
(Source: pleatedjeans, via thepinkwalrus)
