Give me dragons, spaceships, strange worlds, wonderful heroics, lionhearted men and women, blinking sunlight, fluttering hearts, green women, elves with silver hair, tree branches stretching skyward, smooth pebbles, the heady smell of a rose, swimming in the sea, underground caves, the magic of fingertips touching for the first time, tree houses, cats whiskers, dashing chivalry, wild adventure, duels, devotion, and a proper tea time.
What they did not want you to ever find out is that your generation, the generation born between 1980-1995, actually outnumbers the Baby Boomers. They knew that if you ever turned your eye towards political reform, you could change the world. They tried to keep you sated on vapid television shows and vapid music. They cut off your education and fed you brain candy. They took away your music and gave you Top Ten pop stations. They cut off your art and replaced it with endless reality shows for you to plug into, hoping you would sit quietly by as they ran the world. We as a society are only as strong as our weakest link. Give ‘em hell, kids.
I’ve never loved a post so much in the history of tumblr
If someone says you can’t change things, think about why they are telling you that, what their motives for discouraging you, for keeping you apathetic - then prove them wrong.
"She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope."
Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bone (via sewnthistle)
"Do you think we mortals will find you gods easier to bear if you’re beautiful? I tell you that if that’s true we’ll find you a thousand times worse. For then (I know what beauty does) you’ll lure and entice. You’ll leave us nothing; nothing that’s worth our keeping or your taking. Those we love best - whoever’s most worth loving - those are the very ones you’ll pick out. Oh, I can see it happening, age after age, and growing worse and worse the more you reveal your beauty: the son turning his back on his mother and the bride on her groom, stolen away by this everlasting calling, calling, calling of the gods. Taken where we can’t follow. It would be far better for us if you were foul and ravening. We’d rather you drank their blood than stole their hearts. We’d rather they were ours and dead than yours and made immortal."