What do you think the satanic majesty would be about?
Hahaha honestly I got no clue, you’d have to ask @queensansast. That was all her idea!!
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What do you think the satanic majesty would be about?
Hahaha honestly I got no clue, you’d have to ask @queensansast. That was all her idea!!
Me: *reading PG Wodehouse on the tube, looking almost like an intellectual*
My mind: Oh by gee By gosh By gum by Jove... oh by jove oh by jove oh by jove, oh by Jingo won't you hear my love...
Source: The Other 98% on Facebook
August 22, 2015
Okay, Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
i am here for louis and liam making fun of niall on twitter
i make no apologies for the charmed spam that has significantly overtaken my blog.
"To be, or not to be, — that is the question: — Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? — To die, to sleep, — No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, — ‘tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep; — To sleep, perchance to dream: — ay, there’s the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there’s the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know naught of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.”
- William Shakespeare (Hamlet), Hamlet
Rumor has it that when your beard is scratched in the right spot you kick your leg uncontrollably like a dog. Rumor also says that it is very cute.
"..... Tha's not somethin ye should talk aboot."