Alleged-Scrupulousness

Things I am excited for:

• Being at the cabbage
• Forever

vardaesque:

auntymana:

Radioactive (Music Box Version) - Imagine Dragons

(via peabodysfedora)

awkwardsituationist:

98 year old dobri dobrev, a man who lost his hearing in the second world war, walks 10 kilometers from his village in his homemade clothes and leather shoes to the city of sofia, where he spends the day begging for money.

though a well recognized fixture around several of the city’s chruches, known for his prostrations of thanks to all donors, it was only recently discovered that he has donated every penny he has collected — over 40,000 euros — towards the restoration of decaying bulgarian monasteries and churches and the utility bills of orphanages, living entirely off his monthly state pension of 80 euros and the kindness of others.

(via keeganelisabeth)

sfux:

i feel like people who eat breakfast really have their lives together

Tulip Fields in Netherlands

(via spockology)

fyeahmandolins:

Chris Thile rocking out on his vintage Gibson mandolin.

I am no longer a teenager. Happy birthday to me. 

(via spockology)

I’m turning 20 on Tuesday. Weird. 

yorkshiregold:

Wisconsin

Wisconsin is the best state. It’s science. 

robotique:

Vague Protest. (by The Vision Beautiful)

(via kaitmo)

Today I learned that Debussy’s Clair de Lune was originally inspired by Paul Verlaine’s poem.

French Translation:
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.

English translation:
Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Of being sad in their fantastic trim.
The while they celebrate in minor strain
Triumphant love, effective enterprise,
They have an air of knowing all is vain,—
And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise,
The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,
That makes to dream the birds upon the tree,
And in their polished basins of white stone
The fountains tall to sob with ecstasy.