Unironically Enthusiastic
If all your pain is caused by loving and being loved, you have a good life.
My 10th grade English teacher about Jane Eyre, and about us. More than three years later I still think about it all the time.

boromirs:

even if you were too small to understand why

awkwardsituationist:

to mark world theatre day, held on march 27, one hundred young syrians from jordan’s zaatari refugee camp acted in an adapted production of king lear. the play — which tells a story of exile, of a ruler losing touch with reality, and of a land divided by rival groups — was directed was nawar bulbul (third photo), a popular syrian actor who fled his country after appearing in anti government protests.

"i wanted to show that these children are not worthless …that they have something real to contribute." he said. “the show is meant to bring back laughter, joy and humanity” and "help [the children] express themselves." the kids — all under the age of fifteen — were actively involved in the costuming, for example.

many of the children cried when they heard the applause of onlookers at the play’s end. said one child, “i do not feel lonely any more in this place.” their parents described the project as a rare point of light in a bleak camp existence. after the show, they boasted of their children’s talent.

the production, months in the planning, was also meant to help counteract the effects of a war that has caused young syrians to miss vital years of education. about 60,000 of the refugees at the zaatari camp are younger than eighteen, and fewer than a quarter regularly attend school. many fear the war is creating a lost generation of children.

photos are by warrick page for the new york times and jared kohler for unhcr. for more on syria’s refugee crisis, see #withsyria, care international, oxfam syria crisis appeal, human care syria and free syrian voices

(it’s interesting to note that shakespeare actually mentions the city of aleppo in mabeth, which serves as a reminder that syria is one of our oldest centers of civilization.)

bobbycaputo:

The Adventures of Star Wars Figurines in Nature |  Zahir Batin

Hey...I was just wondering if you would be more likely to answer my question if I submit it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

edwardspoonhands:

nooooooooooooooo

4gifs:

Platypus playtime

4gifs:

Platypus playtime

"Of course I don’t want to help her anymore. In fact, this whole thing’s ruined me for helping anyone ever again."

Dylan Thomas | Fern Hill

anaesthesia4aesthetes:


Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

       The night above the dingle starry,

               Time let me hail and climb

       Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

               Trail with daisies and barley

       Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns

About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,

       In the sun that is young once only,

               Time let me play and be   

       Golden in the mercy of his means,

And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,

               And the sabbath rang slowly

       In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air

       And playing, lovely and watery

               And fire green as grass.

       And nightly under the simple stars

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars

       Flying with the ricks, and the horses

               Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all

       Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

               The sky gathered again

       And the sun grew round that very day.

So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm

       Out of the whinnying green stable

               On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,

       In the sun born over and over,

               I ran my heedless ways,

       My wishes raced through the house high hay

And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows

In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs

       Before the children green and golden

               Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me

Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,

       In the moon that is always rising,

               Nor that riding to sleep

       I should hear him fly with the high fields

And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,

               Time held me green and dying

       Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

ohberyn:

no

But, but… Oh, come on! It’s a palace made of ice. Ice is my life!

Sometimes people ask me for romantic advice. My advice? Hang your future girlfriend’s painting right-side up for God’s sake.

unclefather:

anyone would be lucky to date me. i was “a pleasure to have in class”