Marlon Brando on the set of Mutiny on the Bounty, 1962.

(via oscarisaacs)

“We are the generation of nostalgia. We grew up in the age of transition. From hand-written letters to electronic mails. From film to digital. We were fascinated by new things, neglecting the way we spend our afternoons. Cupcakes and tea. Play-Doh and Polly Pockets. Young and naive. Technology completely changed the way we waited and we grew up too fast. The simple things in life seems more meaningful now. We grew up in the age of transition and have become the generation of nostalgia.”
— Unknown (via exoticwild)

(via smudgeofpaint)

rainysolitude:

"I Can’t Hear You" - The Dead Weather

sapphicnymph:

leaving Laverne Cox off of the Time top 100 despite the overwhelming support she received is an act of violence and erasure towards trans women

(via flintlock)

artwodetwo:

Me at parties.
“You tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake…You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that.”
— Warsan Shire (via paveo)

(via smudgeofpaint)

crying good tears bc my re: FAT poem reached over 100 hearts on hitRECord and my poetry blog surpassed 200 followers.

thank you i love you <3

Teatro Della Fenice, Venice

(via personettes)

It was easy to be intimidated by Marilyn, and I was. She was so goddamned beautiful. Luscious. Sweet. But the intimidation disappeared fast because she was so committed and so ready to get better. She listened like no one else, and she worked to the point of a migraine, and I would tell her to lighten up, go easy on yourself, but she couldn’t: She wanted to be taken seriously; she wanted to get it right. I bitch about my upbringing, and my sad mother and sad aunts and no men around and nothing but dead ends all around, but I had love and food and the space and the silence to dream. Marilyn didn’t have that. She told me once that she just wanted her own bedroom, her own bed, and a door she could close. And grass. Grass to run in. Trees to hug and flowers to pick. This was a girl who had nothing but the great gem that she was, and everyone got to hold and fondle that gem, and then put it back when they were done with it. She was happiest—for a time—when she married Arthur [Miller], and there was a country house and trees and fruit and flowers—and silence and doors.

-Maureen Stapleton in an interview with James Grissom, 1991 [x]

(via adefaultsmile)

“You are enough. You are so enough, it is unbelievable how enough you are.”
— Unknown

(via thatkindofwoman)

Howard Hughes’ Hell’s Angels (1930)