This Is Quite....interesting

Morning Star and the Pleiades 

Education must no longer be based upon a syllabus but upon the knowledge of human life.

Maria Montessori, The Absorbent Mind (via inthenoosphere)

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

Oscar Wilde (via freelance-philosopher)

So I saw Logan today...

-roman

We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

— Nikita Gill

*looks around for a moment, thinking* Hmmm you can start labeling the constellations I’ve already traced. Here, I’ve printed off a cheat sheet for them *hands you a piece of paper* ~Logan

-walks into Logan's room- ~Patton

*looks up from where I’m working at my desk* Hello Patton. What can I do for you? ~Logan 

*too shocked and confused to think straight, I do what I'm told* ~Logan

-walks into Logan's room- ~Patton

*looks up from where I’m working at my desk* Hello Patton. What can I do for you? ~Logan 

I've gotten used to waking up without him 😔

-Roman

I've decided that I am going to go home and try to convince my parents that I need to stay where I am.

I have yet to decide if I want to tell them about Roman, however.

Am I so difficult to understand and so easy to misunderstand in all my intentions, plans, and friendships? Ah, we lonely ones and free spirits—it is borne home to us that in some way or other we constantly appear different from what we think. Whereas we wish for nothing more than truth and straightforwardness, we are surrounded by a net of misunderstanding, and despite our most ardent wishes we cannot help our actions being smothered in a cloud of false opinion, attempted compromises, semi-concessions, charitable silence, and erroneous interpretations. Such things gather a weight of melancholy on our brow; for we hate more than death the thought that pretence should be necessary, and such incessant chafing against these things makes us volcanic and menacing. From time to time we avenge ourselves for all our enforced concealment and compulsory self-restraint. We emerge from our cells with terrible faces, our words and deeds are then explosions, and it is not beyond the verge of possibility that we perish through ourselves. Thus dangerously do I live! It is precisely we solitary ones that require love and companions in whose presence we may be open and simple, and the eternal struggle of silence and dissimulation can cease.

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Selected Letters