#ron

Has Ron saved a goal yet?” asked Hermione, peering over the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms. “Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone’s watching him,” said Fred, rolling his eyes. “So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday. ↗

— J.K. Rowling

#end

Jem always said that Will rushed toward the end of a mission rather than proceeding in a measured manner, and that one must look at the next step on the path ahead, rather than the destination in the distance, or one would never reach one’s goal. Will closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that Jem was right, but it was hard to remember, when the goal that he sought was the girl that he loved. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #will-herondale #love

Put the jerk in the south wing, you won't see him for weeks at a time. Or lock him in the attic. The law will not be on your side, but literary precedent will. ↗

— Sarah Rees Brennan

#law

Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied. ↗

— Jane Austen

#histrionics #hysterics #irony #mrs-bennett #suffering

It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. ↗

— Anne Rice

#suffering

It is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand? (...) But please, when you see an opportunity...ruin them ↗

— Veronica Roth

#four #tobias #veronica-roth #opportunity

A lot of people never use their initiative because no-one told them to. ↗

— Banksy

#initiative #oxymoron #paradox #independence

I'm independent and strong, but sometimes...just sometimes, it's nice to be taken case of. It's nice to be made to feel like a lady ↗

— Samantha Towle

#jake #lady #strong #the-mighty-storm #tru

Will rose slowly to his feet. He could not believe he was doing what he was doing, but it was clear that he was, clear as the silver rim around the black of Jem’s eyes. “If there is a life after this one,” he said, “let me meet you in it, James Carstairs.” “There will be other lives.” Jem held his hand out, and for a moment, they clasped hands, as they had done during their parabatai ritual, reaching across twin rings of fire to interlace their fingers with each other. “The world is a wheel,” he said. “When we rise or fall, we do it together.” Will tightened his grip on Jem’s hand, which felt thin as twigs in his. “Well, then,” he said, through a tight throat, “since you say there will be another life for me, let us both pray I do not make as colossal a mess of it as I have this one. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#life

Will!” He turned at the familiar voice and saw Tessa. There was a small path cut along the side of the hill, lined with unfamiliar white flowers, and she was walking up it, toward him. Her long brown hair blew in the wind — she had taken off her straw bonnet, and held it in one hand, waving it at him and smiling as if she were glad to see him. His own heart leaped up at the sight of her. “Tess,” he called. But she was still such a distance away — she seemed both very near and very far suddenly and at the same time. He could see every detail of her pretty, upturned face, but could not touch her, and so he stood, waiting and desiring, and his heart beat like the wings of seagulls in his chest. At last she was there, close enough that he could see where the grass and flowers bent beneath the tread of her shoes. He reached out for her — ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#will-herondale #path