I honestly think that crying over a book is one of the most prominent sign of compassion for humanity. You’re crying over someone who isn’t really there, doesn’t really exist, but you still feel for them as if you have known them your entire life.
“His impassive temerity astounds me. He lives alone, which renders him a little sad, perhaps; Enjolras complains of his greatness, which binds him to widowhood. The rest of us have mistresses, more or less, who make us crazy, that is to say, brave. When a man is as much in love as a tiger, the least that he can do is to fight like a lion. That is one way of taking our revenge for the capers that mesdames our grisettes play on us. Roland gets himself killed for Angelique; all our heroism comes from our women. A man without a woman is a pistol without a trigger; it is the woman that sets the man off. Well, Enjolras has no woman. He is not in love, and yet he manages to be intrepid. It is a thing unheard of that a man should be as cold as ice and as bold as fire.”
Joke of the day.
An Englishman, a Frenchman, a Spaniard and a German are all standing watching a street performer do some excellent juggling. The juggler notices that the four gentlemen have a very poor view, so he stands up on a large wooden box and calls out, “Can you all see me now?”
Took me about ten minutes to finally understand this
stupidest/most awesome joke ever
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN, MADONNA,
WAY BEFORE NIRVANA,
THERE WAS U2 AND BLONDIE,
AND MUSIC STILL ON MTV,
HER TWO KIDS IN HIGH SCHOOL TELL HER THAT SHE’S UNCOOL
BUT SHE’S STILL PRETTY PREOCCUPIED
You were waiting for this weren’t you
I waited my entire Tumblr career for this.