This Gave Me “Midnight In Paris” Vibes. Imagine Just Casually Talking And Having Tea With Uncle Willy

OMG! This is everything.

cute date idea: we go to a locally owned bookstore and cafe to buy greek history books and shakespeare. seeing your brown eyes in the sun makes me believe in miracles and hearing your voice recite soliloquies makes me believe in aphrodite

Ahahah….same

post as much as possible while the women are offline so they can have something to read for breakfast when they are awake.

Unorganized thoughts; equations written all over a whiteboard; black coffee; determination; cigarette breaks; messy hair; curiosity; not wanting to start and then not wanting to finish; double checking almost every calculation; old wooden desks; having anxiety attacks thinking about the meaning of life; not sharing most of your thoughts with anyone; frustration; appreciating the little things; re-reading the practise questions in hope for a new perspective; notebooks full of chaotic notes; dreams about discovering something new; 

ALBERT EINSTEIN AND ACADEMIA

The Liberty of Doctrine—Á Propos of the Gumbel Case

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture-rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst after truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what Nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing to-day. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought. In those days men strove for a larger political unity, which at that time was called Germany. It was the students and the teachers at the universities who kept these ideals alive.

To-day also there is an urge towards social progress, towards tolerance and freedom of thought, towards a larger political unity, which we to-day call Europe. But the students at our universities have ceased as completely as their teachers to enshrine the hopes and ideals of the nation. Anyone who looks at our times coolly and dispassionately must admit this.

We are assembled to-day to take stock of ourselves. The external reason for this meeting is the Gumbel case. This apostle of justice has written about unexpiated political crimes with devoted industry, high courage, and exemplary fairness, and has done the community a signal service by his books. And this is the man whom the students, and a good many of the staff, of his university are to-day doing their best to expel.

Political passion cannot be allowed to go to such lengths. I am convinced that every man who reads Herr Gumbel’s books with an open mind will get the same impression from them as I have. Men like him are needed if we are ever to build up a healthy political society. Let every man judge according to his own standards, by what he has himself read, not by what others tell him. If that happens, this Gumbel case, after an unedifying beginning, may still do good.

Finally came in the post!

Wow it’s scary how relatable this is

Chaotic academia (dark academia without the elegance):

Having one dusty record on the turntable that hasn't been touched in weeks.

Spare change shoved deep into pockets.

Rips in the lining of a wool coat.

Dyeing a shirt black to fit the occasion instead of getting a new shirt.

Listening to the same tape over and over and over.

Taking half an hour to get to the point of your anecdote.

Word vomit.

Bending a paperback in half when you read it.

Bobbing a foot up and down when you sit with your legs crossed.

Tea stains.

Tea rings on every surface.

Empty cups everywhere.

Plants that somehow manage to cling to life.

Piles of newspapers in the bathroom, kitchen, next to the sofa, everywhere.

Old light bulbs because new ones are bright white and inferior.

Being very passionate about many things at the same time.

Knowing a little bit about a lot of things.

Essentially being a glorified hoarder.

tchaikowsky donating his skull to the royal shakespeare company in the hopes of becoming yorick is the most dramatic ass dark academia shit ever and you can’t convince me otherwise 

Give a more iconic title for a book dedicated to your life, I’ll wait.

Colette, tr. by Matthew Ward, from The Collected Stories; “The Accompanist, //Charles Bukowski