ponderful reblogged
ponderful reblogged
The Greeks understood the mysterious power of the hidden side of things. They bequeathed to us one of the most beautiful words in our language—the word ‘enthusiasm’—en theos—a god within. The grandeur of human actions is measured by the inspiration from which they spring. Happy is he who bears a god within, and who obeys it.
Louis Pasteur (via hesperos)
ponderful reblogged
nuitdemai-deactivated20151217
Rest, nature, books, music… such is my idea of happiness.”
Leo Tolstoy (via caught-in-another-world)
ponderful reblogged
Life is so ironic. It takes sadness to know happiness, noise to appreciate silence, and absence to value presence.
(via misiuq)
Source: ex-peri-ence
ponderful reblogged
Paul Schmidtberger, Design Flaws of the Human Condition
Who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?
Hunter S. Thompson
Source: ponderful
ponderful reblogged
ponderful reblogged
The earth was warm under me, and warm as I crumbled it through my fingers…I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.
Willa Cather, My Antonia (via mirroir)
ponderful reblogged
thefilmlibrarian
A rare photograph of Olivia de Havilland during the 1940s.
ponderful reblogged
selvaticaish-deactivated2013111
Tragedia….
Source: farm4.static.flickr.com
ponderful reblogged
I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.
Franz Kafka, The Castle (via larmoyante)
ponderful reblogged
If happiness is the absence of fever then I will never know happiness. For I am possessed by a fever for knowledge, experience and creation.
Anaïs Nin (via corona-borealis)