a tiny glimpse.

there are too many beautiful thoughts floating around my head, and i'm always trying to put them to paper in a way that maintains their edge of poignancy. now they've finally meandered their way out. to find you.

thoughts? http://atinyglimpse.tumblr.com/ask

Website Hit Counters
"I’m a philosophy professor."
"If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?""Never make an exception of yourself.""What does that mean?""People like to make exceptions of themselves. They hold other people to moral codes that they aren’t willing to follow themselves. For example, people tend to think that if they tell a lie, it’s because it was absolutely necessary. But if someone else tells a lie, it means they’re dishonest. So never make an exception of yourself. If you’re a thief, don’t complain about being robbed.”

"I’m a philosophy professor."

"If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?"
"Never make an exception of yourself."
"What does that mean?"
"People like to make exceptions of themselves. They hold other people to moral codes that they aren’t willing to follow themselves. For example, people tend to think that if they tell a lie, it’s because it was absolutely necessary. But if someone else tells a lie, it means they’re dishonest. So never make an exception of yourself. If you’re a thief, don’t complain about being robbed.”

(Source: humansofnewyork)



linespiration:

every breath swollen with the doing of her dreams until her whole life was nothing but aspiration.



linespiration:

give your daughters names that begin with vowels, names that start softly, a window cracked open, a palm unfilled, sighable after too long days, but give your daughters names that end in consonants, names that demand completion, that cannot be trailed off into dismissal, reminding others they are strong, they are unwavering, they are a constant





sometimes ya gotta move on.

sometimes ya gotta move on.

(Source: queenofcarthago, via mental---mystics)



“the breathless breadth of that very first “YES” towards what seems impossibly best”



another asks “how many times have you been in love?”

how we all seem to answer “how many times have you truly felt your love returned?” instead



“mind as a hummingbird,
heart as the flower.”



poison leaks.

purge yourself of any and all human toxicity
and watch yourself transform.



efficacy.

Phase 0:  single sub-therapeutic doses are given to a small number of subjects to gather preliminary data on the agent’s poemcodynamics (what the poem does to the body) and poemcokinetics (what the body does to the poem).

Phase 1: researchers test an experimental poem (“treatment”) in a small group of people for the first time to evaluate its safety/wordweight, determine a safe dosage range (“level of publicity”), and identify side effects (see: inability to form new memories).

Phase 2: the experimental treatment is given to a larger group of people to see if it is effective, properly wordsmithed, and to further evaluate its safety. 

Phase 3: the treatment is finally released to large groups of people
(1,000+)
to confirm its effectiveness, 
correlate it to dangerous behaviors (see: consistent refusals of reality), compare it to commonly used treatments (various, situationally dependent), and collect information that will allow it to be used safely.

Phase 4: postmarketing studies delineate additional information, including the treatment’s risks, benefits, and optimal use.

Diagnosis:
                               life birthed me sickly and afflicted,
                               cyclically addicted

Rx:
                               re(e(value)ate)ing my core
                               in a relentless hunt for my cure.



the letter begins like this:

there are two things about which you must know:

the events of Saturday, December 8th, 2012,

and a girl named Mallory.



do all those things that are pulling on your heart and life will sound like a song again and you will know the words.

(Source: youwiththeanchoredeyes)



his final lesson:

the moment you realize it is poison

stop drinking.



i bet she cackles,
grossly, dripping with lack of intelligence;
i bet she is unnecessarily cruel, brash,
turning herself into a sideshow under the ‘entertain me’ threat
of your raised eyebrow, your dismissive wave.

i bet you love how easily she fits herself beneath you,
behind you,
below you where she belongs - compartmentalizing herself at your feet
into all the places you could never quite shove me.



you forget that i am a human being after you,
i was a human being before you,
and that the human being i turned into under you
is someone that i had never known.