panacea

Hi. It's me.

cbldf:

On April 4, the National Coalition Against Censorship — of which CBLDF is a member — is partnering with the Electronic Frontier Foundation and the Center for Civic Media at MIT to protest censorship in libraries. Dubbed 404 Day, April 4 is a nation-wide day of action protesting the censorship of the Internet at public libraries. More at CBLDF.org…

cbldf:

On April 4, the National Coalition Against Censorship — of which CBLDF is a member — is partnering with the Electronic Frontier Foundation and the Center for Civic Media at MIT to protest censorship in libraries. Dubbed 404 Day, April 4 is a nation-wide day of action protesting the censorship of the Internet at public libraries. More at CBLDF.org…

(via ala-con)

awesomepeoplehangingouttogether:

The Brady Bunch meets the Jacksons, 1971

awesomepeoplehangingouttogether:

The Brady Bunch meets the Jacksons, 1971

patrondebris:

Ginger Rogers teaches Fred Astaire to Yam in Carefree (1938)

The YAM

(Source: haroldlloyds)

vintascope:

Vintage St. Patrick’s Day Postcard on Flickr.
hodgman:

They have shut down the Internet on us at the library and are turning the lights off. But I’m not leaving until they play “Closing Time” (at New York Public Library)

hodgman:

They have shut down the Internet on us at the library and are turning the lights off. But I’m not leaving until they play “Closing Time” (at New York Public Library)

(Source: etrangere, via newwavewomen)

danchaon:

So thanks to The New Yorker for pointing out this

insanely beautiful tumblr page,   The Art of Google Books. 

Alan Rickman - My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

tiny-sized:

Alan Rickman reads Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.