When my husband [Carl Sagan] died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again.

Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful.

The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.

Ann Druyan

(Source: whats-out-there, via pavorst)

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In San Francisco last year, a man stabbed a woman in the face and arm after she didn’t respond positively to his sexually harassing her on the street.

In Bradenton, Fla., a man shot a high school senior to death after she and her friends refused to perform oral sex at his request.

In Chicago, a scared 15-year-old was hit by a car and died after she tried escaping from harassers on a bus.

Again, in Chicago, a man grabbed a 19-year-old walking on a public thoroughfare, pulled her onto a gangway and assaulted her.

In Savannah, Georgia, a woman was walking alone at night and three men approached her. She ignored them, but they pushed her to the ground and sexually assaulted her.

In Manhattan, a 29-year-old pregnant woman was killed when men catcalling from a van drove onto the sidewalk and hit her and her friend.

Last week, a runner in California — a woman — was stopped and asked, by a strange man in a car, if she wanted a ride. When she declined he ran her over twice.

FUCK YOU if you think that street harassment is a “compliment” or “no big deal” or that it’s “irrational” of us to be afraid because “what’s actually gonna happen.” Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you some more. Street Harassment: Is a Man Running Over a 14-Year Old Girl for Refusing Sex Serious Enough? | Soraya Chemaly  (via mooncrumbs)

(Source: brutereason, via princeofclockwork)

241,807 notes

Brie Moreno
Before, after
everydaycarry:

This Is Ground Mod Case
iPad Mini with retina display
Spyderco H1
Field Notes notebook
Business cards
Uniball Signo DX pen, 0.28mm
Skull Candy headphones
Uni Kuru Toga pencil, 0.5mm
iPad/iPhone cable
Moleskine notebook


Web Designer and Jewelry Maker in Atlanta, GA

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Johnny Depp making grilled cheese sandwiches with an iron.
detailingthedetails:

Alexander McQueen spring/summer 2008 | La Dame Bleue
I heard a joke once: Man goes to the doctor. Says he’s depressed, life is harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world. Doctor says, “treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up.” Man bursts into tears. “But Doctor” he says, “I am Pagliacci.” Robin Williams 

(Source: paintedlions, via this--too--shall--pass)

60,822 notes
everyonedies:

goodbye old friend