You know, I’ve only been to New York City once. It was on my seventh birthday. All I wanted was a soft pretzel and one of those horse and cart rides through Central Park. It’s lame. I was seven. I got taken to see Cats. Fucking Cats.
Jane Austen really said ‘I respect the “I can fix him” movement but that’s just not me. He’ll fix himself if knows what’s good for him’ and that’s why her works are still calling the shots today.
Meanwhile Emily Brönte just said “We can make each other worse.”
supporting artists and writers and humans in general is so important actually. leave a few comments or give a nice compliment to those who have touched your soul. so important actually
That’s all those of you who don’t produce drawings or comics,
fics or drabbles.
All of you who just reblog,
only comment, don’t do anything but look and read.
This one’s for you.
Because you’re the likers, the sharers, the taggers, the
ask-senders. The reviewers, the praise-givers, the supporters, the flailers.
The response, the feedback, the reward for all that hard work. Sometimes the
difference between giving up and continuing.
You’re the cornerstone, the heart and soul of this
community. It wouldn’t exist without you. Please don’t ever ever think
otherwise. Please don’t ever think you shouldn’t talk to the creators whose
stuff you enjoy.
I think I’m always chasing that particular high you only get from certain rare stories - the ones that resonate with you on a strange personal level, like an implacable aroma that reminds you of something that was once very dear to you but has somehow been forgotten. Those stories that rewire your brain just a little, just for a while. Not every great story has this effect - I have enjoyed many excellent books and movies that did not change me.
It’s just that now and then, if you’re very lucky, you’ll come across a story that feels like home, or a like limb you didn’t even know you had or how you got by all these years without using it. These stories haunt you and become part of your personal canon.
