New Study Finds Humans Shouldn’t Spend More Than 5 Consecutive Hours Together
(Source: popsonnet, via harkerling)
I trailed into the cathedral precinct, and lay there on the grass, and watched its huge west front, covered over with bad sculpture, but very correct and proper still, in the manner of the town. There is a remoteness about cathedrals now-a-days — :they are things I could not contribute to, if they were still a-building: and in front of Wells today there was a white-frocked child playing with a ball; the child was quite unconscious of the cathedral (feeling only the pleasure of smooth grass) but from my distance she was so small that she looked no more than a tumbling daisy at the tower-foot: I knew of course that she was an animal: and I began in my hatred of animals to balance her against the cathedral: and knew then that I’d destroy the building to save her. That’s as irrational as what happened on our coming here, when I swerved Snowy Wallis and myself at 60 m.p.h. on to the grass by the roadside, trying vainly to save a bird which dashed out its life against my side-car. And yet had the world been mine I’d have left out animal life upon it.
[The clergyman] took me round the bishop’s palace-garden, pumping me to learn how I endured camp life (living promiscuous seemed to his imagination horrible, and he by profession a shepherd of sheep!), and I hinted at the value of constrast which made all Wells crying-precious to me: and then we leaned over the wall and saw the fish in the moat, and it came upon me very hardly how excellent was their life. Fish are free of mankind you know, and are always perfectly suspended, without ache or activity of nerves, in their sheltering element.
We can get it, of course, when we earth-in our bodies, but it seems to me that we can only do that when they are worn out. It’s a failure to kill them out of misery, for if there isn’t any good or evil but only activity, and no pain or joy, only sensation: then we can’t kill ourselves while we can yet feel. However I’d rather be the fish (did you ever red Rupert Brooke’s ’ “And there shall be no earth in heaven” said fish’) or the little bird which had killed itself against me that morning.
There, my letters always end in tears!
T.E. Lawrence to Lionel Curtis, June 27, 1923.
There’s so much going on in this letter, I don’t even know where to start.
Here’s the Wikipedia article on Wells, for reference, and a photograph of the west front of the cathedral. The line he’s trying to quote is Brooke’s “And in that Heaven of all their wish, There shall be no more land, say fish.” This was written during what was arguably the most miserable time of his life; i.e., the Tank Corps.
(Source: fennist, via thecontradictionsofmymind)
tbh if you want free weed just tell a group of stoners you’ve never smoked before and then boom free weed
Also, there’s a whole lot of talk about Fluellen going on right now and I’m continually surprised by how much people like him until I remember how I used to kind of like him until I played Gower opposite the World’s Smelliest Mansplainer and his performance and offstage behavior ruined the character for me forever.
Some of the things people have been posting about Robin Williams, mental health and suicide are just so fucking patronizing.
And I can’t even really talk or THINK about the other shit that’s going on so I just… I don’t know.
What even IS this week.