Simon & Garfunkel - Mrs. Robinson
26,525 plays

in-with-mcguinn:

Mrs. Robinson- Simon & Garfunkel- 1968

Colin O’Donoghue’s reaction to the suggestion of a happily ever after for Neal and Emma.

anotherjourneybytrain:

australian-government:

I hate when people ask questions during movies like do you not understand that the movie purposly doesn’t tell you things in order to build suspense

"Who are they?" "What’s going on?" I DON’T KNOW, I HAVE BEEN WATCHING THE FILM AT THE SAME TIME AS YOU, I DID NOT WRITE THE FUCKING SCRIPT.

dartranna-alurath:

buzzfeed:

Dunno if this is relevant to your interests, but this dog rides and trains horses.

awwwwww <3

mizzjade:

troublelovesmetroubleneedsme:

notsolodolo:

"And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it’s time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies, that make the babies
And since a man can’t make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you’re fed up ladies, but keep your head up”
- Tupac Shakur 

Always reblog this.

^

mizzjade:

troublelovesmetroubleneedsme:

notsolodolo:

"And since we all came from a woman

Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman

I wonder why we take from our women

Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?

I think it’s time to kill for our women

Time to heal our women, be real to our women

And if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies

That will hate the ladies, that make the babies

And since a man can’t make one

He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one

So will the real men get up

I know you’re fed up ladies, but keep your head up”

- Tupac Shakur 

Always reblog this.

^

jaclcfrost:

i’m frequently visited by three spirits at night

  • the ghost of i fucked up
  • the ghost of i’m currently fucking up
  • and the ghost of i’m probably going to fuck up in the future

I Know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm
Like squeezing into last year’s prom dress
I know girls who are low rise, mac eye shadow, and binge drinking
I know girls that wonder if they’re disaster and sexy enough to fit in
I know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their skin
Playing Russian roulette with death; it’s never easy to accept that our bodies are fallible and flawed
But when do we draw the line?
When the knife hits the skin?
Isn’t it the same thing as purging
Because we’re so obsessed with death
Some women just have more guts than others

The funny thing is women like us don’t shoot
We swallow pills, still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue
Still proceeding to put on make-up
Still hoping that the mortician finds us fuckable and attractive
We might as well be buried with our shoes and handbags and scarves, girls
We flirt with death every time we etch a new tally mark into our skin
I know how to split my wrists to reveal a battlefield too
But the time has come for us to reclaim our bodies

Our bodies deserve more than to be war-torn and collateral
Offering this fuckdom as a pathetic means to say,
“I only know how to exist when I am wanted.”

Girls like us are hardly ever wanted, you know
We’re used up and we’re sad and drunk and
Perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up and tell us that we did good
Well, you did good.

(I know I am because I said, “I am.”
My body is home)

Try this
Take your hands over your bumpy love body naked
And remember the first time you touched someone
With the sole purpose of learning all of them
Touched them because the light was pretty on them
And the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did
Touch yourself with a purpose
Your body is the most beautiful royal
Fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore
Are not your razor, no
Put the sharpness back
Lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin
I once touched a tree with charred limbs
The stump was still breathing
But the tops were just ashy remains
I wonder what it’s like to come back from that because
Because sometimes I feel forest fires erupting from my wrists
And the smoke signals sent out are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen

Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
And brother arm wrapping shoulders, and remember
This is important

You are worth more than who you fuck
You are worth more than a waistline
You are worth more than beer bottles displayed like drunken artifacts.
You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim in the shadows,
More than a man’s whim or your father’s mistake
You are no less valuable as a size 16 than a size 4
You are no less valuable as a 32a than a 36c
Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood
It is wisdom
You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out
Reborn

Mary Lambert (Body Love)  (via notsufferingfrominsanity)

unicorn-sparkle-bug:

zeklos:

crumbled-paper-hearts:

i—need—a—doctor:

When you quote a fictional character around a friend or family member and they don’t notice

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when you quote a fictional character around a stranger or new friend and they notice

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this is how i feel literally EVERY DAY

Four years after the war, Ginny and Harry were finally getting married. In a frenzy, Molly began barking out orders to everyone. Without thinking, she turned to George and said “Fred go find your sister and make sure she gets dressed!” Realizing her mistake, she fell into the nearest chair and began to sob. George hugged his mother tight, and his only words were, “Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?” in a soft voice.

peteswench:

harrypotterfan1999:

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WHO THE FUCK WOULD DO THAT GO SIT IN THE CORNER