The Academia Life Is Just So Revitalizating. Reading Is Such A Satisfying Activity For The Mind And Soul.

Writers gather around

“Writers aren’t exactly people...they are a bunch of people trying to be one person” -F. Scott Fitzgerald 

...I am writers. Thank you Scott, for giving an explanation for my dilemma.

I got these precious books today! I swear that I do not have anymore space for books in my apartment. But, I still get them anyways.

“What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?”-Willy Shakes

I was reading about Francis Crick and James Watson’s discovery of DNA in 1953…and admiring Santiago’s beautiful drawings of neurons…and Alan Hodgkin et Andrew Huxley’s mathematical discovery of calculating how action potentials propagates along a neuron…I couldn’t help but think how romantic it all is. To me it’s so interesting learning about the process of discovery. It’s incredible because all these people were just like us—students. It’s romantic because it’s human—a human experience—an insatiable thirst for knowledge, curiosity that knows no end. A perseverance to succeed. The ultimate quest to generate a novel idea before anyone else does. How can anyone say that science is not poetic? Science is poetry written in a different language, an esoteric one at that. But poetry nonetheless.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Maya Angelou

This is the epitome of academia and it’s beautiful in my eyes.

Tea gets cold so quickly, it should be illegal.

Imagine

I want write poetry and epic fantasy or history or both and I want to travel to old cities and try to transport myself back in time to when the architecture and frescoes were new and baroque was the new thing. I want to hear the people speak and how they’re conversations sounded. All we can do in our time is guess, but I want to know.

This is hilariously accurate

me in the bathtub, listening to hozier and eating pomegranate seeds: so this is persephones life huh

Why is this me?

tweed jackets, corduroy pants, brown trousers, oxford shoes, white button ups, brown leather, heavy sweaters, coffee rings, ripped out pages, thick belts, wire rimmed glasses, dusty books, quiet spaces, low lighting, dark wood, the picture of dorian gray, thick paper, expensive pens, figering brushing while reaching for the same book, long eye contact, small classes, close relationships with teachers, being an enigma, disappearing without explanation, wilting flowers, long coats, thrist for knowledge, thick volumes of ancient words, reading poetry aloud, old watches, golden jewelry, classical music, red wine, black coffee, music played on the piano, close knit groups of friends, a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.