Tuesday August 26, 2014 at 22:08

justonelasttrick:

Sherlock / Harry Potter Crossover movie poster
inspired by this post (x)

beautiful- I just have to reblog this!

justonelasttrick:

Sherlock / Harry Potter Crossover movie poster

inspired by this post (x)

beautiful- I just have to reblog this!

Reblogged from The Final Problem.

Sunday August 24, 2014 at 15:49

London 1926 (x)

(Source: teflonly)

Reblogged from EnigmaticPenguin (of death).

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 23:37

Love how the stage directions get translated so beautifully and vividly onto screen!

Reblogged from Believe in the Moff.

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 23:36


Rene Magritte, L’Etat de Vielle

Rene Magritte, L’Etat de Vielle

(Source: enginkid88modern)

Reblogged from EnigmaticPenguin (of death).

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 23:31

ohgodbenny:

AND THAT’S HOW IT BEGINS..

Reblogged from Just a middle-class blogger..

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 22:05

"Thou canst not - for on earth is known to noneThe smile that is not sister to a tear:Man dreams of hope, but always wakes to fear”
-Elliott

"Thou canst not - for on earth is known to none
The smile that is not sister to a tear:
Man dreams of hope, but always wakes to fear”

-Elliott

(Source: simply-divine-creation)

Reblogged from Tea, Coffee, and Books.

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 21:54

Reblogged from lacrymosa.

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 21:45

“She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession. What a vain show Life seemed! How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting! It was as if from some aerial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, ‘All are shadows!—all are passing!—all is past! And when the morning dawned, cool and gray, like many a happier morning before - when Margaret looked one by one at the sleepers, it seemed as if the terrible night were unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow. It, too, was past.” ― Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South

“She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession. What a vain show Life seemed! How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting! It was as if from some aerial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, ‘All are shadows!—all are passing!—all is past! And when the morning dawned, cool and gray, like many a happier morning before - when Margaret looked one by one at the sleepers, it seemed as if the terrible night were unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow. It, too, was past.” 
― Elizabeth GaskellNorth and South

Reblogged from L'écume des jours..

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 21:33

"My heart revolts within me, and two voicesMake themselves audible within my bosom.”
-Wallenstein

"My heart revolts within me, and two voices
Make themselves audible within my bosom.”

-Wallenstein

(Source: thecrazythewzrd)

Reblogged from Wanderlust.

Saturday August 23, 2014 at 15:46

allthingseurope:

Exmouth, England (by Jerry.B9)

Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway,
The tender blossom flutter down,
Unloved, that beech will gather brown,
This maple burn itself away;

Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair,
Ray round with flames her disk of seed,
And many a rose-carnation feed
With summer spice the humming air;

Unloved, by many a sandy bar,
The brook shall babble down the plain,
At noon or when the lesser wain
Is twisting round the polar star;

Uncared for, gird the windy grove,
And flood the haunts of hern and crake;
Or into silver arrows break
The sailing moon in creek and cove;

Till from the garden and the wild
A fresh association blow,
And year by year the landscape grow
Familiar to the stranger’s child;

As year by year the labourer tills
His wonted glebe, or lops the glades;
And year by year our memory fades
From all the circle of the hills.
-Tennyson

allthingseurope:

Exmouth, England (by Jerry.B9)

Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway,

The tender blossom flutter down,

Unloved, that beech will gather brown,

This maple burn itself away;

Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair,

Ray round with flames her disk of seed,

And many a rose-carnation feed

With summer spice the humming air;

Unloved, by many a sandy bar,

The brook shall babble down the plain,

At noon or when the lesser wain

Is twisting round the polar star;

Uncared for, gird the windy grove,

And flood the haunts of hern and crake;

Or into silver arrows break

The sailing moon in creek and cove;

Till from the garden and the wild

A fresh association blow,

And year by year the landscape grow

Familiar to the stranger’s child;

As year by year the labourer tills

His wonted glebe, or lops the glades;

And year by year our memory fades

From all the circle of the hills.

-Tennyson

Reblogged from All things Europe.

Tuesday August 19, 2014 at 22:00

Mycroft’s face at the end - he does care. 

Reblogged from SEMI HIATUS.

Tuesday August 19, 2014 at 0:04

pierre-de-lune:

Marlon Brando with his cat at home, circa 1950s

pierre-de-lune:

Marlon Brando with his cat at home, circa 1950s

Reblogged from L'écume des jours..

Tuesday August 19, 2014 at 0:04

“Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day” ― Virginia Woolf

“Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day” 
― Virginia Woolf

Reblogged from Wanderlust.

Monday August 18, 2014 at 23:54

(Source: thebeatles.com)

Reblogged from L'écume des jours..

Monday August 18, 2014 at 23:53

awritersruminations:

Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society (1989) (via zimas)

Reblogged from L'écume des jours..