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it is what it is.

@falltothepage / falltothepage.tumblr.com

Books. Words. Lyrics. Occasional random thoughts. Anything goes.
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@fictionalgirlfriend@bri17marie14@andre-augusto@lapetitemortgallery@theshadowcommissioner@theupstairsraum-blog@valsedelesruines@foram06-blog@tuhortaliza@foldalatti@knitreadlove-blog@skinnylovessuicide@socialallyacademy@justmeyourdaughter@kittenness@riiicka@djms1295-blog@shut-your-fat-face@thequeer-aro@dkwliteraryagency@nimweezy@middleearthianofmirkwood@depressiondirectory@spaced-lace@nickaanicka@thewonderfulworldofnerds@sarahbear9789@feltonisourking@justnadinethings@julie-christies@juiceboxesarebetter@reina-tatiana@sidcravesbooks@kingdomofproducts@lotsoffiction@bicherwuerm@mirror-22@bookmeanadventure@the-belief-in-books@bookish-soliloquies@literaturelemons@eviwilson@sound-of-change@adultintheyasection@fleetingcrows@sjaals@miscwriting@howdidwegetsodark@stefito0o@tilly-and-her-books@alibraryismyparadise@born2rumble1st@angeldiablo@enchantingcaptivations@s-ecluded@confidence-without-ego@sloughof--despond@paintingtherosesredk@iseestarscrying-blog@mariahas-blog-blog@closedforprayer@lovedreamwishhope@anyairna@backshelfpoet@thrillswithinaluminousmind@blushin-love@millywillson@elizaluechtefe@xpaperwingsx-blog@shadow-of-the-fedora-blog@doitrealbig-neverdoittiny@mashedupbluemoon@pauldefaze@life-by-sarah-blog@flashlightcityblues@petitionthesky-blog-blog@horrorxofxourxlove@rxykittay@skeletons-into-goddesses@50shadesofbroken@stolenwine@chandalucia@stepintotheblack@srackyatak@madashell61-blog@quotes-of-my--life@faulknerandfieldnotes@bonesandrollingstones@sonounuragano@bellagrace25-blog@onceuponatimeinyourdreams@zackkattackk@o-zo-ne@scarletbloodthatfeelssoright@graveyard-dancing17@tanslax@officialbookface@gainingsoul-blog@beyourownkind@veladaa@blaxicanbabygirl@sailormoonandotherplanets

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@fictionalgirlfriend@bri17marie14@andre-augusto@lapetitemortgallery@theshadowcommissioner@theupstairsraum-blog@valsedelesruines@foram06-blog@tuhortaliza@foldalatti@knitreadlove-blog@skinnylovessuicide@socialallyacademy@justmeyourdaughter@kittenness@riiicka@djms1295-blog@shut-your-fat-face@thequeer-aro@dkwliteraryagency@nimweezy@middleearthianofmirkwood@depressiondirectory@spaced-lace@nickaanicka@thewonderfulworldofnerds@sarahbear9789@feltonisourking@justnadinethings@julie-christies@juiceboxesarebetter@reina-tatiana@sidcravesbooks@kingdomofproducts@lotsoffiction@bicherwuerm@mirror-22@bookmeanadventure@the-belief-in-books@bookish-soliloquies@literaturelemons@eviwilson@sound-of-change@adultintheyasection@fleetingcrows@sjaals@miscwriting@howdidwegetsodark@stefito0o@tilly-and-her-books@alibraryismyparadise@born2rumble1st@angeldiablo@enchantingcaptivations@s-ecluded@confidence-without-ego@sloughof--despond@paintingtherosesredk@iseestarscrying-blog@mariahas-blog-blog@closedforprayer@lovedreamwishhope@anyairna@backshelfpoet@thrillswithinaluminousmind@blushin-love@millywillson@elizaluechtefe@xpaperwingsx-blog@shadow-of-the-fedora-blog@doitrealbig-neverdoittiny@mashedupbluemoon@pauldefaze@life-by-sarah-blog@flashlightcityblues@petitionthesky-blog-blog@horrorxofxourxlove@rxykittay@skeletons-into-goddesses@50shadesofbroken@stolenwine@chandalucia@stepintotheblack@srackyatak@madashell61-blog@quotes-of-my--life@faulknerandfieldnotes@bonesandrollingstones@sonounuragano@bellagrace25-blog@onceuponatimeinyourdreams@zackkattackk@o-zo-ne@scarletbloodthatfeelssoright@graveyard-dancing17@tanslax@officialbookface@gainingsoul-blog@beyourownkind@veladaa@blaxicanbabygirl@sailormoonandotherplanets

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@fictionalgirlfriend@bri17marie14@andre-augusto@lapetitemortgallery@theshadowcommissioner@theupstairsraum-blog@valsedelesruines@foram06-blog@tuhortaliza@foldalatti@knitreadlove-blog@skinnylovessuicide@socialallyacademy@justmeyourdaughter@kittenness@riiicka@djms1295-blog@shut-your-fat-face@thequeer-aro@dkwliteraryagency@nimweezy@middleearthianofmirkwood@depressiondirectory@spaced-lace@nickaanicka@thewonderfulworldofnerds@sarahbear9789@feltonisourking@justnadinethings@julie-christies@juiceboxesarebetter@reina-tatiana@sidcravesbooks@kingdomofproducts@lotsoffiction@bicherwuerm@mirror-22@bookmeanadventure@the-belief-in-books@bookish-soliloquies@literaturelemons@eviwilson@sound-of-change@adultintheyasection@fleetingcrows@sjaals@miscwriting@howdidwegetsodark@stefito0o@tilly-and-her-books@alibraryismyparadise@born2rumble1st@angeldiablo@enchantingcaptivations@s-ecluded@confidence-without-ego@sloughof--despond@paintingtherosesredk@iseestarscrying-blog@mariahas-blog-blog@closedforprayer@lovedreamwishhope@anyairna@backshelfpoet@thrillswithinaluminousmind@blushin-love@millywillson@elizaluechtefe@xpaperwingsx-blog@shadow-of-the-fedora-blog@doitrealbig-neverdoittiny@mashedupbluemoon@pauldefaze@life-by-sarah-blog@flashlightcityblues@petitionthesky-blog-blog@horrorxofxourxlove@rxykittay@skeletons-into-goddesses@50shadesofbroken@stolenwine@chandalucia@stepintotheblack@srackyatak@madashell61-blog@quotes-of-my--life@faulknerandfieldnotes@bonesandrollingstones@sonounuragano@bellagrace25-blog@onceuponatimeinyourdreams@zackkattackk@o-zo-ne@scarletbloodthatfeelssoright@graveyard-dancing17@tanslax@officialbookface@gainingsoul-blog@beyourownkind@veladaa@blaxicanbabygirl@sailormoonandotherplanets

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Is there anything more plausible than than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing - until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.

The Sense of an Ending - Julian Barnes

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'Is it life? Many a man has spent a hundred years trying to get the dimensions out of it and when he understands it at last and the certain pattern of it in his head, by the hokey he takes to his bed and dies! He dies like a poisoned sheepdog. There is nothing so dangerous, you can't smoke it, nobody will give you a tuppence-halfpenny for the half of it and it kills you in the wind up. It is a queer contraption, very dangerous, a certain death-trap. Life?'

The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

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I was reflecting about my name and how tantalising it was to have forgotten it. All people have names of one kind or another. Some are arbitrary labels related to the appearance of the person, some represent purely genealogical associations but most of them afford some clue as to the parents of the person named and confer a certain advantage in the execution of legal documents. Even a dog has a name which dissociates him from other dogs and indeed my own soul, whom nobody has ever seen on the road or standing at the corner of a public house, had apparently no difficulty in assuming a name which distinguished him from other people's souls.

The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

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I’m going to tell you what a demon once told me: It is okay to want your own happiness. It’s okay to care about yourself the most. It’s okay to do what’s healthy for YOU. When someone hits you, it’s okay to hit back and then ask them what the hell they expected. It’s okay. You are not obligated to sit there and smile and swallow every bit of sh*t everyone heaps on you. You are more than furniture, you’re more than window dressing, you’re not their shiny toy. You’re human, and you have the right to say ‘That was sh*tty of you.’ You have a right to say ‘Let me feed that back to you; tell me, how does it taste?’ You have a right to protest your own mistreatment and set boundaries for respectful interactions. The rest of the world doesn’t realize you have this right, and they will act offended and appalled when you exercise it, but it is yours.
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We are entering a period of human history that may provide an answer to the question of whether it is better to be smart than stupid. The most hopeful prospect is that the question will not be answered: if it receives a definite answer, that answer can only be that humans were a kind of “biological error”, using their allotted 100,000 years to destroy themselves and, in the process, much else.

Hegemony or Survival: America’s quest for global dominance - Noam Chomsky

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My mum wants to expand the bookshelf at her place of work do asked me to get some decent secondhand books and write little reviews on them - like bookstores and booze stores have. The ones on the right are the ones they can have after I'm done reading them *shifty eyes* I may've gone a little bit overboard ...

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My mother was the sort of person who chose her words with the utmost care, and I understood that a wealth of meanings ran beneath that simple phrase: more serious than smoking. Smoking caused cancer, a disease that was killing my father, that had killed several women in her family, that would kill her just a few years later. She understood that drinking was more dangerous and she understood why: smoking could ruin my body; drinking could ruin my mind and my future. It could eat its way through my life in exactly the same way a physical cancer could eat its way through bones and blood and tissue, destroying everything.

Drinking: A Love Story - Caroline Knapp

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Random snippet

Mum (*ranting about dad or the garden or the house or possibly all three*): ... but, you know, at the end of the day ...
Me (*barely attempts to bite tongue*): You're another day older
Mum: *bewildered look*
Me: And that's all you can say for the life of the poor
Mum: *realisation dawns*
Me: It's a struggle, it's a war
Mum: *groans*
Me: And there's nothing that anyone's giving. One more day, standing about, what is it for?
Mum: *glares*
Me: Sorry.
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