rosityler:

Happy 43rd Birthday, David Tennant! (18/04/1971)

(via trashybooksforladies)

colin-fucking-morgan:

thagirlwhocan:

jjlj13:

lumos5000:

lumos5000:

lumos5000:

peenchesters:

can you document the exact moment your life started going downhill?

image

i can

image

me too

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can’t forget this one

image

image

nothing is more accurate.

(Source: ughsammy, via sodamnrelatable)

"Until you’re about the age of twenty, you read everything, and you like it simply because you are reading it. Then between twenty and thirty you pick what you want, and you read the best, you read all the great works. After that you sit and wait for them to be written. But you know, the least known, the least famous writers, they are the better ones."

Rest in peace, Gabriel García Márquez. (via theatlantic)

(via fscottfitzgerald)

(Source: mattsmithphotos, via doctorwho)

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

(Source: dragonflaly, via disimba)

crownofkingmoriarty:


TARDIS
All of time and space, everywhere and anywhere. Every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?

A simple painting of the TARDIS. (x)

crownofkingmoriarty:

TARDIS

All of time and space, everywhere and anywhere. Every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?

A simple painting of the TARDIS. (x)

(Source: shakespeareanhermit, via doctorwho)

gif meme:  tenth doctor + tickles my pickle

(via doctorwhoblog)

kimsbirkin:

celebstarlets:

3/18/14 - Emma Watson at LAX Airport.

No

kimsbirkin:

celebstarlets:

3/18/14 - Emma Watson at LAX Airport.

No

(via fscottfitzgerald)

suchaprettyworld:

Anna Ilnytska photographed by Pascal Chevallier for Vanity Fair Italia (2011).

suchaprettyworld:

Anna Ilnytska photographed by Pascal Chevallier for Vanity Fair Italia (2011).

(via suicideblonde)

Natalie Dormer - GQ USA - April 2014

(Source: sylviagetyourheadouttheoven, via suicideblonde)

Thoughts on a Clock

And now it’s time for one last bow

Like all your other selves

Eleven's hour is over now

The clock is striking twelve's.

queenmorriarty:

Time and Relative Dimension in Space

queenmorriarty:

Time and Relative Dimension iSpace

(via doctorwho)