“This Is A City Of Shifting Light, Of Changing Skies, Of Sudden Vistas. A City So Beautiful It Breaks

Instead of doing literally anything else that may be considered “productive” I went ahead and made this.

I present to you my list of Classic Lit Authors Sorted into Hogwarts Houses:

William Shakespeare - Ravenclaw

Emily Dickinson - Hufflepuff

H. P. Lovecraft - Ravenclaw 

Leo Tolstoy - Gryffindor

Edgar Allan Poe - Ravenclaw

Oscar Wilde - Slytherin

Robert Ervin Howard - Gryffindor

Jane Austen - Ravenclaw

Mark Twain - Slytherin

Ernest Hemingway - Gryffindor

Aldous Huxley - Slytherin

Sylvia Plath - Ravenclaw 

Ray Bradbury - Ravenclaw

William Blake - Slytherin

James Joyce - Slytherin

William Wordsworth - Hufflepuff

Lewis Carroll - Ravenclaw

Walt Whitman - Slytherin

Ralph Waldo Emerson - Ravenclaw

T. S. Eliot - Ravenclaw

Victor Hugo - Gryffindor

F. Scott Fitzgerald - Gryffindor 

George Orwell - Slytherin

Virginia Woolf - Ravenclaw

J. R. R. Tolkien - Ravenclaw

Toni Morrison - Gryffindor

Mary Shelley - Ravenclaw

Percy Bysshe Shelley - Ravenclaw

Charles Dickens - Gryffindor

Charlotte Brontë - Gryffindor

Emily Brontë - Slytherin

Anne Brontë - Hufflepuff

George Eliot - Gryffindor 

Louisa May Alcott - Gryffindor

Joseph Conrad - Slytherin

Jack London - Gryffindor

Henry James - Ravenclaw

Bram Stoker - Slytherin

Franz Kafka - Slytherin

E. M. Forster - Hufflepuff

Ayn Rand - Slytherin

Joseph Heller - Slytherin 

Harper Lee - Hufflepuff

J. D. Salinger - Slytherin

Arthur Conan Doyle - Ravenclaw

Agatha Christie - Slytherin

Roald Dahl - Ravenclaw

Frank Herbert - Slytherin

Octavia E. Butler - Ravenclaw

Vladimir Nabokov - Slytherin

This is obviously not a complete list (there are 50 here) and there will be a follow-up with more in the future! I am very sure about some of these (anyone who has ever met me or looked at my blog knows how hard it was to restrain myself from putting Oscar Wilde first) but I’d love to hear other people’s opinions if anyone has some!

Special thanks to @amapofyourstars for helping me sort these people even though she had little to no interest in any of their lives.

There is a moment in every dawn when light floats, there is the possibility of magic. Creation holds its breath.

Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe, and Everything (via existential-celestial)

When you think of Persephone you think of the lost girl who was tricked by the lord of the underworld. You don't think of the girl who knew what the pomegranate was for but ate it anyway The girl with lust in her eyes and a freedom in her soul The girl trapped by the expectation of her heritage She could stay but she knew her mother would burn the world down in order to bring her back So she rose from a throne of bones and death and returned life to the world 6 long months spend in the sun dreaming of the dark and the cold beneath the earth taking it's life force with her. Dreaming of him and the night spent whispering everything and nothing to each other on the banks of the river styx's Collecting souls like she once collected flowers in full bloom.

late night thoughts 

“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

via @the-book-diaries

via weheartit

Don’t you dare pity her She traded a suffering soul for a throne of bones She exchanged watchful eyes for a court of her own The seasons of the earth depended on the very breath she took She had death wrapped around her fingers and spring at her beck and call and the ruler of the heavens tasked with finding her She turned the world upside down to find freedom The daughter of flowers escaped her prison made out of roots and thorns and became the queen of death and forged her new home out of shadows and power

Persephone was the real winner (via starlightpoet)

Bringing sexy back - Vikki Dougan walking down the street, 1950.

We belonged to each other, but had lived so far apart that we belonged to others now.

André Aciman, Call Me By Your Name (via terxture)

Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death—ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life. One is responsible to life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return. One must negotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of those who are coming after us.

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (via merulae)