Frederick Said " Your Problem Is That You Still Believe You Own Your Life" And Then He Decided He Wasn't

Four Houses as Famous Poems

Ravenclaw: O Me! O Life! By Walt Whitman 

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?                                       Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Hufflepuff: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Gryffindor: Night (O you whose countenance) by Rainer Maria Rilke

Night. O you whose countenance, dissolved in deepness, hovers above my face.

You who are the heaviest counterweight to my astounding contemplation.

Night, that trembles as reflected in my eyes, but in itself strong; inexhaustible creation, dominant, enduring beyond the earth’s endurance;

Night, full of newly created stars that leave trails of fire streaming from their seams as they soar in inaudible adventure through interstellar space:

how, overshadowed by your all-embracing vastness, I appear minute!— Yet, being one with the ever more darkening earth, I dare to be in you.

Slytherin: The Best Thing in the World by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What’s the best thing in the world? June-rose, by May-dew impearled; Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; Truth, not cruel to a friend; Pleasure, not in haste to end; Beauty, not self-decked and curled Till its pride is over-plain; Light, that never makes you wink; Memory, that gives no pain; Love, when, so, you’re loved again.

What’s the best thing in the world? —Something out of it, I think.

• An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.

• A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.

• A bar was walked into by the passive voice.

• An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.

• Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”

• A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.

• Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.

• A question mark walks into a bar?

• A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.

• Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type."

• A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.

• A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.

• Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.

• A synonym strolls into a tavern.

• At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.

• A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.

• Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.

• A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.

• An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.

• The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.

• A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.

• The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.

• A dyslexic walks into a bra.

• A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.

• A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.

• A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.

• A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony

- Jill Thomas Doyle

oresteia, robert icke / from the nebraska plant, the mountain goats / jayme ringleb, from “a little learning” / black sails / blue nights, joan didion / pentimento definition / myers’ psychology for the ap® course, c. nathan dewall and david meyers / pink, sylvie baumgartel / perforated heart, eric bogosian

Anne de Marcken, from It Lasts Forever and Then It's Over [ID'd]

1) Mother and daughter Art Print by Natalia Tejera // 2) Pinterest // 3) Michal Pudelka // 4) Emma Neill // 5 - 9) Please Look After Mom by Kyung-Sook Shin

its been 2 months since i read cloud cuckoo land by anthony doerr and i havent really talked about it cause its not "fandomizable" or whatever but i started thinking about it again out of nowhere today so i gonna get my thoughts out here.

as you may know for the past several months ive been really into finding obscure music to listen to. not because i want to feel elite or superior or win the obscure music competition, but because its such an intimate experience to me. its like the artist is reaching across time and space to deliver me the song personally and entrusting it to me and I have to take care of it and share it with the people in my life so it can be loved and grow up big and strong. its especially true for songs that are 15 or 20 or 30 or more years old cause it makes me wonder where the artist is now and how theyre doing. their musical career may not have taken off, but it made its way to me all these years later. its touching, you know?

now imagine instead of a song from a decade or two ago that you can stream on spotify, it's a manuscript that's thousands of years old. five times over, across millenia, somebody discovered a story that was doomed to be lost forever and singlehandedly worked to rescue and preserve and share it so that it could keep on living, because it was important to them. whether the story is "good" or not, hell whether its even complete or legible, is not what matters. what matters is that for their own reasons, some part of it resonated with each of them, and they felt a responsibility to pass it on so it would not die with them.

to put it more crassly, cloud cuckoo land is basically a story about lost media. the need to preserve and record and recover information no matter how trivial it may seem is such a human thing to do and i love that

parent-child dynamics are soooo crazy. i love you i resent you i can't stand you i adore you i pity you. and still watching your hair get a little more grey every time i see you makes my stomach feel weird

You are stuck in a time loop.

This Road by Poe / post by @janemorris / Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (1990), dir. Tom Stoppard / Circles by Marion Ethel Hamilton / Happy Death Day (2017), dir. Christopher Landon / Alan Wake II / Fatigue Empire by Cynthia Cruz / Black Sails episode XXXII

✨ happy 125th, fc barcelona ✨

❝i extend my congratulations to barça on its 125th anniversary. it fills me with pride to be part of this incredible club and to call myself a fan.❞ — lionel messi

the question Inception asks is "what would you risk it all for?". the question Interstellar asks is "what would you live for?" and the question Tenet asks is "what would you die for?". and the answer to all three is love.