the shadow of your shadow

I cannot heave my heart into my mouth.

(via filthiestlaugh)

O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man,
But Nature never framed a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprizing what they look on, and her wit
Values itself so highly that to her
All matter else seems weak. She cannot love
Nor take no shape nor project of affection
She is so self-endeared.

(Source: improvisatory, via ladynoblesong)

macombr:

Alan Rickman reads Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. 

(Source: tiny-sized, via daretobeoneofus)

(Source: misshonoriaglossop, via creusefille)

Shakespeare…you know, Shakespeare is great. But I would just like to posit my problem with Shakespeare. One of the plays where a women have to transform into men - this is the problem I have with the productions of Shakespeare: What they do is, the woman has to pretend to be a man for some reason, so she’ll go offstage, and she’ll come back on stage, wearing a hat, and lo and behold, there’s a new bloke in town! And every character on the stage goes, “Aye, aye guv’nor, you’re a man, ain’t ya!” And then, at the end of the play, when she has to reveal herself, she takes her hat off, and everyone goes, “Naaaaaahhhh, we thought you were a man! What with the hat and everything!

(Source: catelynstarking, via am-i-bovvered)

irefusetodietobananarama:

Sonnet 91 read by Catherine Tate

(Source: smith-and-noble)

“[Macbeth’s] shifts in nature are highlighted by the opposite journey made by Lady Macbeth, whom Helen McCrory plays excellently. Her early invocation to the ‘spirits that tend on mortal thoughts’ has apparently been contemplated for some time, awaiting the right moment when greatness drifts into reach. Lady M’s silent, unobtrusive expression of growing horror during Macbeth’s ‘Come, seeling night…’speech fixes the moment at which his growing evil surpasses her own waning resolution, and the sleepwalking episode is splendidly underplayed.” (x)

“You can hear the audience outside all arriving in their cabs, and then you have the call, ‘Miss Miller, Miss McCrory, please come to the stage. You have five minutes.’ You’re standing there in the wings and the lights go down and there’s that hush. And then it’s yours.” (x)

bisques:

John Green writes:

One of my favorite contemporary artists, Gordon Matta-Clark, called his work Anarchitecture. I thought about the famous work Splitting (1974), a photograph of which you see above, a lot while writing The Fault in Our Stars. Matta-Clark took a home slated for demolition and split it down the middle. A house divided…and standing.

(via enchanting)