Tomorrow: BIFFY CLYRO

Good old Zampanò’s notes seem quite popular…

lulusnini:

What the fuck. I didn’t know that Simon Neil has got a tattoo in German. :)

In den finsteren Zeiten
Wird da auch gesungen werden?
Da wird auch gesungen werden.
Von finsteren Zeiten.

O_O

How could I not know…?

(Reblogged from sheispuzzled)
You don’t remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.

from An Abundance Of Katherines 

by John Green 

oneworthfightingfor:

libraryland:

remedyloame:

rickjacques:

Finally finished book cover for twenty-thousand leagues under the sea. All handmade Copper spine was etched with acid to reveal the letters, lettering on front was wood burned, inside is a stripped paper back version of the book wrapped in leather paper then glued on to the spine, and the back has a heat transfer of the summary of the book.

I wish all my books had covers like this!

(Reblogged from oneworthfightingfor)

lareinadelsimulacro:

“I read somewhere… how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong… but to feel strong.”

(Reblogged from lareinadelsimulacro)

The view over the Rhine at the panorama of Cologne at night is too beautiful to be captured in one photograph.

Can’t think of a better excuse for forgetting my camera again and again.

(Reblogged from theboatwasnamedafteryou)
Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.

Zampanò in House of Leaves

by Mark Danielewski