A Luminous Sorrow
Install Theme

Goof offs

mgoldst:

284

come-closer-vasilisa:

iwriteaboutfeminism:

Clergy march in solidarity to the Ferguson Police Department, where they offer to hear confession of the officers’ sins.

Part one

#MoralMonday, October 13th

My heart is pounding.

Union students are there. Pray!

(via peonysubclune)

newyorker:

Read about this week’s cover, “Fall Library,” by Tom Gauld. 

newyorker:

Read about this week’s cover, “Fall Library,” by Tom Gauld


The first page of the Gospel of St. John in Coptic and Arabic,

The first page of the Gospel of St. John in Coptic and Arabic,

(Source: , via thedoors-thedoors)

hideback:

Gustave Moreau (French, 1826-1898)

Salome receives the head of John the Baptist as a reward for dancing for King Herod.

The Apparition in various versions, circa 1875

(via itszak)

There was a thing called Heaven; but all the same they used to drink enormous quantities of alcohol.

— Aldous Huxely, Brave New World

humansofnewyork:

“My happiest memories are from when I was growing up in South Carolina. I remember sitting in the kitchen, waiting on breakfast and listening to the coffee perkin’. My grandmother had her own garden, and my grandfather had his own grocery store, so we always had fresh vegetables and grits and bacon and eggs. That was a big deal back then in the 50’s— for a black man to own a grocery store. If someone needed credit, my grandfather would just write their name in a book. And if they couldn’t pay, he’d just forget about it. He was shorter than I was, and very quiet. But everybody respected him. He used to walk to the store every morning before dawn, with a 38’ in his hand. Every night he’d walk home with that same gun in his hand. Even the white delivery men called him Mr. Robinson. MISTER Robinson.”

humansofnewyork:

“My happiest memories are from when I was growing up in South Carolina. I remember sitting in the kitchen, waiting on breakfast and listening to the coffee perkin’. My grandmother had her own garden, and my grandfather had his own grocery store, so we always had fresh vegetables and grits and bacon and eggs. That was a big deal back then in the 50’s— for a black man to own a grocery store. If someone needed credit, my grandfather would just write their name in a book. And if they couldn’t pay, he’d just forget about it. He was shorter than I was, and very quiet. But everybody respected him. He used to walk to the store every morning before dawn, with a 38’ in his hand. Every night he’d walk home with that same gun in his hand. Even the white delivery men called him Mr. Robinson. MISTER Robinson.”

Song is the eternal exponent of Divine praise.

— Heath Terrace
1866

The Buddha compared attachment to drinking salt water from an ocean. The more we drink, the thirstier we get. Likewise, when our mind is conditioned by attachment, however much we have, we never really experience contentment.

— Mingyur Rinpoche  (via vijara)

(Source: yeshecholwa, via thekingintheinnernorth)