A thought …

For the longest time, I believed “love” was a feeling—butterflies in the stomach, intense longing, an emotional high. The biggest fault in that definition of love, though, is that it’s never constant, and inevitably fleeting. But take, for instance, the love my mom has for me: when she scolds me, when she sets rules that restrict my freedom, when she’s angry with my choices…she acts out of love..All this to say…love can simply be translated to sacrifice. My mom gains nothing from being the “bad” guy. She’s just showing me love by helping me stay on that narrow path.

True love is an act of will, of self-denial…it is found in sacrifice and purest when it blossoms out of selflessness…

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jnmcknss:

Anna Conway
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fabforgottennobility:

 Demetra da Ercolano
shot by Mimmo Jodice
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its-versailles:

The Daughter’s Portrait (detail) - Louise Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun.
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phiix:

i want this so bad
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b0yscout:

cybergata:

Elephants walking through a rain forest.

i thought these were bunnies in a field of grass but ok