View photo
  • 19 hours ago
  • 8228

Until then I had thought each book spoke of the things, human or divine, that lie outside books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection, the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then the place of a long, centuries-old murmuring, an imperceptible dialogue between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors.

The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco  (via jaimelannister)
View quote
  • 19 hours ago
  • 318
View photo
  • 19 hours ago
  • 20
View photo
  • 19 hours ago
  • 5116
View photo
  • 20 hours ago
  • 9261
View photo
  • 1 day ago
  • 69752
View photo
  • 1 day ago
  • 318
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 2237
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 6185
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 221952
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 35609
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 73

timeanddisregard:

it seems like cats never forgot the fact that they were worshipped as gods thousands of years ago 

View text
  • 2 days ago
  • 94562
View photo
  • 2 days ago
  • 1552
View photo
  • 4 days ago
  • 63357
x