the child grows enormous but never grows up
emk-irl:

There is something for everyone on Craigslist Mirrors. This one marries a sickening awe of nature to the practicality of a tape measure; the wilderness made wilder through an inverted perspective, but ultimately tamed by we who measure the world in inches!

emk-irl:

There is something for everyone on Craigslist Mirrors. This one marries a sickening awe of nature to the practicality of a tape measure; the wilderness made wilder through an inverted perspective, but ultimately tamed by we who measure the world in inches!

pre-postmortem:

20th Century Eightball (2002)

pre-postmortem:

20th Century Eightball (2002)

There are some beloved women whose eyes, by a chance blend of brilliance and shape, affect us not directly, not at the moment of shy perception, but in a delayed and cumulative burst of light when the heartless person is absent, and the magic agony abides, and its lenses and lamps are installed in the dark.

Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin

It’s almost unfair that anyone can write this beautifully in their second language.

jahsonic:

Caníbales preparando a sus víctimas (Cannibals preparing their victims) [1][2] by Spanish painter Goya.
One of two of the series known as Scenes of Cannibalism.
Both paintings — once in the collection of Jean Gigoux — are said to depict Canadian Martyrs Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant who were slaughtered by the Iroquois in 1649.
Lalemant’s last moments are recorded as follows:

"At the height of these torments, Father Gabriel Lallemant lifted his eyes to Heaven, clasping his hands from time to time and uttering sighs to God, whom he invoked to his aid." [He] "had received a hatchet blow on the left ear, which they had driven into his brain, which appeared exposed: we saw no part of his body, from the feet even to the head, which had not been broiled, and in which he had not been burned alive, – even the eyes, into which those impious ones had thrust burning coals." [3]

jahsonic:

Caníbales preparando a sus víctimas (Cannibals preparing their victims) [1][2] by Spanish painter Goya.

One of two of the series known as Scenes of Cannibalism.

Both paintings — once in the collection of Jean Gigoux — are said to depict Canadian Martyrs Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant who were slaughtered by the Iroquois in 1649.

Lalemant’s last moments are recorded as follows:

"At the height of these torments, Father Gabriel Lallemant lifted his eyes to Heaven, clasping his hands from time to time and uttering sighs to God, whom he invoked to his aid." [He] "had received a hatchet blow on the left ear, which they had driven into his brain, which appeared exposed: we saw no part of his body, from the feet even to the head, which had not been broiled, and in which he had not been burned alive, – even the eyes, into which those impious ones had thrust burning coals." [3]


The sheep had drowned while trying to cross a small canal in the meadow-swamp ‘Tøndermasken’ in southern Jylland in Denmark. Birds had eaten every part above the surface and everything under was left totally untouched.  from the National Geographic Photo Contest 2012.

The sheep had drowned while trying to cross a small canal in the meadow-swamp ‘Tøndermasken’ in southern Jylland in Denmark. Birds had eaten every part above the surface and everything under was left totally untouched.  from the National Geographic Photo Contest 2012.

until the bumper’s solenoid finally burned out”

We have much studied and much perfected, of late, the great civilized invention of the division of labor; only we give it a false name. It is not, truly speaking, the labor that is divided; but the men:—Divided into mere segments of men—broken into small fragments and crumbs of life; so that all the little piece of intelligence that is left in a man is not enough to make a pin, or a nail, but exhausts itself in making the point of a pin, or the head of a nail. Now it is a good and desirable thing, truly, to make many pins in a day; but if we could only see with what crystal sand their points were polished,—sand of human soul, much to be magnified before it can be discerned for what it is,—we should think there might be some loss in it also. And the great cry that rises from all our manufacturing cities, louder than their furnace blast, is all in very deed for this,—that we manufacture everything there except men; we blanch cotton, and strengthen steel, and refine sugar, and shape pottery; but to brighten, to strengthen, to refine, or to form a single living spirit, never enters into our estimate of advantages.
Ruskin, John, The Stones of Venice, Volume II (of III)
It’s like, I GET IT. You care deeply about the things that you care about. Please leave me alone so that I can ponder the inevitability of death.

The ability to put in those hours of work is in itself an innate gift. Hard work is a talent.

My argument has always been that what you learn from using the skills you have—analyzing your strengths and weaknesses—is far more important. If you can program yourself to learn from your experiences by assiduously reviewing what worked and what did not, and why, success in chess can be very valuable indeed. In this way, the game has taught me a great deal about my own decision-making processes that is applicable in other areas, but that effort has little to do with natural gifts.