Tell the king; the fair wrought house has fallenNo shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leavesThe fountains are now silent; the voice is stilled.It is finished.
While the context and narrative itself sets up obstacles, the film often uses visuals to help express Clarice’s status in the order of things. A recurring visual motif is Clarice surrounded by taller men, dwarfed and brought down by their stature. Yes, Jodie Foster is a short woman, just a few inches over five feet, but the film often exaggerates that discrepancy to express her challenge in overcoming a patriarchal society that literally looks down on her. […]
The film camera also never objectifies Clarice. Throughout the film she is presented as an object of the male gaze by the characters in the narrative, but the camera does not assume this perspective of the male look until the end of the film. It’s at this point then that Clarice punishes and banishes the male gaze for objectifying her. [x]
The world is so big, so complicated, so replete with marvels and surprises that it takes years for most people to begin to notice that it is, also, irretrievably broken. We call this period of research “childhood.”
There follows a program of renewed inquiry, often involuntary, into the nature and effects of mortality, entropy, heartbreak, violence, failure, cowardice, duplicity, cruelty, and grief; the researcher learns their histories, and their bitter lessons, by heart. Along the way, he or she discovers that the world has been broken for as long as anyone can remember, and struggles to reconcile this fact with the ache of cosmic nostalgia that arises, from time to time, in the researcher’s heart: an intimation of vanished glory, of lost wholeness, a memory of the world unbroken. We call the moment at which this ache first arises “adolescence.” The feeling haunts people all their lives.
Everyone, sooner or later, gets a thorough schooling in brokenness."
— Michael Chabon, The Wes Anderson Collection (via brightwalldarkroom)
i think the best thing about don draper is his hatred of harry crane
n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.
on a scale from 1 to sansa stark, how much do you regret your childhood crush
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