“‘Well, sir,’ said Sam, dithering a little. ‘I heard a great deal that I don’t rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and- and Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see THEM. Couldn’t you take me to see Elves, sir, when you go?’
Suddenly Gandalf laughed. ‘Come inside!’ he shouted, and putting out both of his arms he lifted the astonished Sam, shears, grass-clippings and all, right through the window and stood him on the floor.”—J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (via eropulsucordis)
And please, the next time you’re about to tease someone for being a lowly Hufflepuff, or a slimy Slytherin, or a stuck up Ravenclaw or even a foolish Gryffindor, just remember that we are all Hogwarts students. We’re all part of the magic.
When people want authors for young people to be responsible. I’ll be reading a review maybe, or lurking in some book forum - and I’ll see somebody say “it might give teens ideas …”. Or (in the review I just read which kind of set off this rant), “Writers of young adult fiction should be more responsible!”.
“I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.”—Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters (via decembrist)
“What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I’d done something I shouldn’t have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I’d done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn’t do anything differently than I had done? What if I’d actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn’t have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?”—Cheryl Strayed, Wild (via annaetc)
“You don’t think – not possibly – not as a mere hundredth chance – there might be things that are real though we can’t see them? … If there are souls, could there not be soul-houses?”—C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces (via lifesomeday)