(via xparrot)
(via team-hiddleston)
(via yofineasskhaleesi)
(via fyeahhiddles)
(via team-hiddleston)
(via team-hiddleston)
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder’d at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
(via thedoctorknows)
(via thedoctorknows)
(via thedoctorknows)
O my son,
God put it in thy mind to take it hence
That thou mightst win the more thy father’s love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
(via woodvilles)
(via fuckyeahgodofmischief)