Urgent security update


Bad news. A major vulnerability, known as “Heartbleed,” has been disclosed for the technology that powers encryption across the majority of the internet. That includes Tumblr.

We have no evidence of any breach and, like most networks, our team took immediate action to fix the issue.

But this…


To the horizon and beyond
with a piece of happiness dangling
from the arms of summer
I hop on to the tide
that take me away
Away than away.


To the horizon and beyond

with a piece of happiness dangling

from the arms of summer

I hop on to the tide

that take me away

Away than away.

“We’ve hated each other for many things…but I swear, I swear I loved you even while I hated you, and you didn’t love me!”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via dollymyfolly)

(via dostoyevsky)

“She was looking up at him, her eyes liquid, and she was smiling her gap-toothed smile like no bad thing would ever befall her so long as he stood at her side.”

Khaled Hosseini, And the Mountains Echoed
“She will never know that even though I love her more than anything, I will always hate myself a tiny bit more.”

Shehan Karunatilaka, Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew
“However, not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”

William Bruce Cameron, Informal Sociology: A Casual Introduction to Sociological Thinking
“It was one of those events which at a crucial stage in one’s development arrive to challenge and stretch one to the limit of one’s ability and beyond, so that thereafter one has new standards by which to judge oneself.”

Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day


  • "Words always end up on the wrong side of the meaning."
  • "That's not true."
  • "See there. I wasn't asking you. I was telling."


I heard
Death is knocking on doors
Looking for me.
Will someone kindly point him to my door?

I’ll be on the balcony
On the way down

“I know I ought to kill myself, to sweep myself off the earth like a vile insect; but I’m afraid of showing magnanimity. I know it will be one more deceit—the last deceit in an endless series of deceits.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Demons (via blacktout)

(via dostoyevsky)

“But how could you live and have no story to tell?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights (via fyodors)

(via dostoyevsky)


The Tiny Project   |   http://tiny-project.com

The Tiny Project is Alex Lisefski's attempt to live a simpler, more conscious, debt-free life, and in doing so helping to set and example and educate the community about alternative, affordable, more sustainable ways of living.

The tiny house movement is rapidly gaining popularity in the US and elsewhere around the world. Though no two tiny homes are identical, they share many core principles, and of course, they are all quite tiny! Though a tiny house can be built on a foundation, many people choose to build on a flatbed trailer, in order to make the house mobile, and to avoid minimum square footage requirements that most municipalities have in place for permanent structures.

Building on a trailer means the house is considered more like an RV, and does not need to adhere to the same permits, codes, and rules associated with building a normal home. The trick with trying to live full-time in a pseudo-RV is where to park it. 

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“For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.”

John Milton, Areopagitica, 1644. (via eclectic-like-furniture)

(via prettybooks)

Wasn’t love (or faith, in fact) a matter not of feelings but of actions, and those actions measured by how many of them you’d have done without the love (or faith)?

Pico Iyer, The Man Within My Head

I don’t know why I do what I do. If I did know, I probably wouldn’t feel the need to do it. All I can say, and I say it with utmost certainty, is that I have felt this need since my earliest adolescence. I’m talking about writing, in particular writing as a vehicle to tell stories, imaginary stories that have never taken place in what we call the real world. Surely it is an odd way to spend your life -sitting alone in a room with a pen in your hand, hour after hour, day after day, year after year, struggling to put words on pieces of paper in order to give birth to what does not exist -except in your own head. Why on earth would anyone want to do such a thing? The only answer I have ever been able to come with is: because you have to, because you have no choice.

Paul Auster