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ÄIUN ESPERON LASU ÄE L' ENPAĹO
Through me one goes into the town of woe,Â
 through me one goes into eternal pain,Â
 through me among the people that are lost.Â
- Dante's INFERNO
Taylor Kitsch on '21 Bridges' and Taking Pride in 'John Carter'
The actor, who has experienced ups and downs, notes his high-profile Disney flop has had a "mini-resurgence" in recent years: "People stop me all the time for that."
[This story contains spoilers for 21 Bridges]
Taylor Kitsch takes everything in stride â including his career. The 21 Bridges star became an overnight sensation in 2006 via NBCâs critically lauded TV series Friday Night Lights, whose devout following refused to let the football drama die after each underviewed season. Because of his breakout role as fullback/running back Tim Riggins, Hollywood quickly created movie star expectations for Kitsch, but once his first two blockbusters, John Carter and Battleship, vastly underperformed at the box office, Hollywood quickly threw the baby out with the bathwater. Fortunately for Kitsch, he soon found his footing with a string of well-reviewed performances including HBOâs The Normal Heart, Lone Survivor and True Detective.
While Kitsch couldnât control the expectations placed on him, he appreciates the ups and downs as well as the continued opportunities to jump back and forth between leading man and character actor. In his latest movie, 21 Bridges, Kitsch plays a supporting role as Ray Jackson, a war veteran and small-time criminal whoâs being hunted by veteran police detective Andre Davis (Chadwick Boseman). Soon, Kitsch will return as the lead in Neill Blomkampâs Inferno.
Nimic nu poate schimba comportamentul ca durerea.Probabil ca durerea ne poate salva.
Ploaie-de-mai96

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Pride Month Ocs Collection
Today we have Infero. He's not very developed yet. He's still just a concept right now, but I still count him as an official oc. I have a very, very long post about him already and I'll try to make it easy to find so I don't have to explain his whole backstory again. Anyway, since he has two forms, his godly one and his mortal one he's trapped in, he gets two pictures.
Pronouns: He/Him
Species: God
Identity: Aromantic
Story They're In: (still an undeveloped concept. No title yet.)
Side note: I really love the contrast of forms. The mortal one, while still having the redish skin looks normal enough, while his god form would send people running away screaming if he approached them in the night.
Canto XXIV
CIRCLE EIGHT: BOLGIA SEVEN
The Thieves
In the turning season of the youthful year, when the sun is warming his rays beneath Aquarius and the days and nights already begin to near
their perfect balance; the hoar-frost copies then the image of his white sister on the ground, but the first sun wipes away the work of his pen.
The peasants who lack doffer then arise and look about and see the fields all white, and hear their lambs bleat; then they smite their thighs,
go back into the house, walk here and there, pacing, fretting, wondering what to do, then come out doors again, and there, despair
falls from them when they see how the earth's face has changed in so little time, and they take their staffs and drive their lambs to feed--so in that place
when I saw my Guide and Master's eyebrows lower, my spirits fell and I was sorely vexed; and as quickly came the plaster to the sore:
for when he had reached the ruined bridge, he stood and turned on me that sweet and open look with which he had greeted me in the dark wood.
When he had paused and studied carefully the heap of stones, he seemed to reach some plan, for he turned and opened his arms and lifted me.
Like one who works and calculates ahead, and is always ready for what happens next-- so, raising me above that dismal bed
to the top of one great slab of the fallen slate, he chose another saying: "Climb here, but first test it to see if it will hold your weight."
It was no climb for a lead-hung hypocrite: for scarcely we--he light and I assisted-- could crawl handhold by the handhold from the pit;
and were it not that the bank along this side was lower than the one down which we had slid, I at least--I will not speak for my Guide--
would have turned back. But as all of the vast rim of Malebolge leans toward the lowest well, so each succeeding valley and each brim
is lower than the last. We climbed the face and arrived by great exertion to that point where the last rock had fallen from its place.
My lungs were pumping as if they could not stop; I thought I could not go on, and I sat exhausted the instant I had clambered to the top.
"Up on your feet! This is no time to tire!" my Master cried. "The man who lies asleep will never waken fame, and his desire
and all his life drift past him like a dream, and the traces of his memory face from time like smoke in air, or ripples on a stream.
Now, therefore, rise. Control your breath, and call upon the strength of soul that wins all battles unless it sink in the gross body's fall
There is a longer ladder yet to climb: this much is not enough. If you understand me, show that you mean to profit from your time."
I rose and made my breath appear more steady than it really was, and I replied: "Lead on As it pleases you to go: I am strong and ready."
We picked our way up the cliff, a painful climb, for it was narrower, steeper, and more jagged than any we had crossed up to that time.
I moved along, talking to hide my faintness, when a voice that seemed unable to form words rose from the depths of the next chasm's darkness.
I do not know what it said, thought by then the Sage had led me to the top of the next arch; but the speaker seemed in a tremendous rage.
I was bending over the brim, but living eyes could not plumb to the bottom of that dark; therefore I said, "Master, let me advise
that we cross over and climb down the wall: for just as I hear the voice without understanding, so I look down and make out nothing at all."
"I make no other answer than the act," the Master said: "the only fit reply to a fit request is silence and the fact."
So we moved down the bridge to the stone pier that shores the end of the arch on the eighth bank, and there I saw the chasm's depths made clear;
and there great coils of serpents met my sight, so hideous a mass that even now the memory makes my blood run cold with fright.
Let Libya boast no longer, for thought its sands breed chelidrids, jaculi, and phareans, cenchriads, and two-headed amphisbands,
it never bred such a variety of vipers, no, not with all Ethiopia and all the lands that lie by the Red Sea.
Amid that swarm, naked and without hope, people ran terrified, not even dreaming of a hole to hide in, or of heliotrope
Their hands were bound behind by coils of serpents which thrust their heads and tails between the loins and bunched in front, a mass of knotted torments.
One of the damned came racing round a boulder, and as he passed us, a great snake shot up and bit him where the neck joins with the shoulder.
No mortal pen--however fast it flash over the page--could write o or i as quickly as he flamed and fell in ash;
and when he was dissolved into a heap upon the ground, the dust rose of itself and immediately resumed its former shape.
Precisely so, philosophers declare, the Phoenix dies and then is born again when it approaches its five hundredth year.
It lives on tears of balsam and of incense; in all its life it eats no herb or grain, and nard and precious myrrh sweeten its cerements.
And as a person fallen in a fit, possessed by a Demon or some other seizure that fetters him without his knowing it,
struggles up to his feet and blinks his eyes (still stupefied by the great agony he has just passed), and, looking round him, sighs--
such was the sinner when at last he rose. O Power of God! How dreadful is Thy will which in its vengeance rains such fearful blows.
Then my Guide asked him who he was. And he answered reluctantly: "Not long ago I rained into this gullet from Tuscany.
I am Vanni Fucci, the beast. A mule among men, I chose the bestial life above the human. Savage Pistoia was my fitting den."
And I to my Guide: "Detain him a bit longer and ask what crime it was that sent him here; I knew him as a man of blood and anger."
The sinner hearing me, seemed discomforted, but he turned and fixed his eyes upon my face with a look of dismal shame; at length he said:
"That you have found me out among the strife and misery of this place, grieves my heart more than did the day that cut me from my life.
But I am forced to answer truthfully: I am put down so low because it was I who stole the treasure from the Sacristy,
for which others once were blamed. But you may find less to gloat about if you escape here, prick up your ears and listen to what I say:
First Pistoia is emptied of the Black, then Florence changes her party and her laws. From Valdimagra the God of War brings back
a fiery vapor wrapped in turbid air: then in a storm of battle at Piceno the vapor breaks apart the mist, and there
every White shall feel his wounds anew. And I have told you this that it may grieve you."
Translated by John Ciardi