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Saturday, July 31, 2010





anna dello russo, my hero, via sartorialist
favorites from stockholmstreetstyle

Friday, July 30, 2010

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

brown sugar





how come you taste so good?

more to come.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Ginger Snap








rather be dead, than red in the head.

missing red hair

Friday, July 23, 2010

Thursday, July 22, 2010

young hearts










young hearts be free tonight,
time is on your side <3

Friday, July 16, 2010

at my back i hear, times winged chariot drawing near


To his Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.




plath quotes this poem in her journal from smith college.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

cruel summer







leaving me here on my own.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

boyfriend




i have one.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

About Me

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i love cats, theatre, fashion, and sleeping.

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