April 2013
spanish and italian: So THESE words are feminine and THESE words are masculine, and you ALWAYS put an adjective AFTER the noun.
french: haha i dont fuckin know man just do whatever
german: LET'S ADD A NEUTRAL NOUN HAHA
english: *shooting up in the bathroom*
gaelic: the pronounciation changes depending on the gender and what letter the word starts and ends with and hahah i dont even know good fucking luck
polish: here have all of these consonants have fun
japanese: subject article noun article verb. too bad there's three fucking alphabets lmao hope your first language isn't western
welsh: sneeze, and chances are you've got it right. idfk
chinese: here's a picture. draw it. it means something. it can be pronounced three different ways. these twenty other pictures are pronounced the same but have very different meanings. godspeed.
Arabic: so here's this one word. it actually translates to three words. also pronouns don't really exist. the gender is all in the verb. have fun!
Latin: here memorize 500 charts and then you still dont know what the fuck is happening
Sign Language: If you move this sign by a tenth of an inch, you'll be signing "penis"
January 2013
“I’m not sentimental—I’m as romantic as you are. The idea, you know,
is that the...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise (via vanished)
“Sometimes when we’re in love, we take the facts and spin them into pretty...”
– Kirsten Miller, The Eternal Ones (via larmoyante)
“Try not to confuse attachment with love. Attachment is about fear and...”
– Unknown (via day488)
“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a...”
– Robert Frost (via ambling)
“We’re all going to get old one day. So let’s just love the age we’ve got and...”
– Neil Pasricha, The Book of Awesome: Snow Days, Bakery Air, Finding Money in Your Pocket, and OtherSimple, Brilliant Things (via lajoiedespetiteschoses)
“Sometimes when we’re in love, we take the facts and spin them into pretty...”
– Kirsten Miller, The Eternal Ones (via larmoyante)
“His fingers touched my hair, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. His mouth...”
– The Tracey Fragments, Maureen Medved (pg. 125)
