Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.
Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (via observando)
(Reblogged from observando)
(Reblogged from a-perified-diary)

nobody wants to marry rich more than an equestrian

(Source: without-hope-with-humor)

(Reblogged from hunterjumpersismylife)



Photograph by Susan J. Stickle

I love ponies so much
Ponies and kids are a match made in heaven

(Reblogged from hunterjumpersismylife)


the fabulous arthur mitchell and dance theater of harlem

(Reblogged from ulittleshit)


Beautiful Braids!!!

(Reblogged from hunterjumpersismylife)

(Source: twentythreefour)

(Reblogged from thesorrowsofgin)
Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.
Jane Austen (via observando)
(Reblogged from observando)
(Reblogged from loveyourchaos)
If you love and get hurt, love more.
If you love more and hurt more, love even more.
If you love even more and get hurt even more, love some more until it hurts no moreā€¦
William Shakespeare (via observando)
(Reblogged from observando)