Okay, hands on heads.
I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold.
- Charles Bingley: "Well, I think it's amazing you young ladies have the patience to be so accomplished."
- Caroline Bingley: "What do you mean, Charles?"
- Charles Bingley: "You all paint tables and play the piano and embroider cushions. I never heard of a young lady but people say she is accomplished."
- William Darcy: "The word is, indeed, applied too liberally. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women in all my acquaintance who are truly accomplished."
- Caroline Bingley: "Nor I, to be sure."
- Elizabeth Bennet: "Goodness, you must comprehend a great deal in the idea."
- William Darcy: "I do."
- Caroline Bingley: "Absolutely. She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word. And something in her air and manner of walking."
- William Darcy: "And, of course, she must improve her mind by extensive reading."
- Elizabeth Bennet: "I'm no longer surprised at your only knowing six accomplished women. I rather wonder at your knowing any."
- William Darcy: "Are you so severe on your own sex?"
- Elizabeth Bennet: "I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold."
I would like to say in my defense that I don’t really get the appeal of YOLO. I live many times over. Hypothetical, subterranean lives that run beneath the relative tedium of my own and have the power to occasionally penetrate or even derail it. I find it hard to name the one book that was so damn delightful it changed my life. The truth is, they have all changed my life, every single one of them—even the ones I hated. Books are my version of ‘experiences.’ I’m made of them.
Alison Krauss and Union Station, “Simple Love”
Happy birthday, Alison Krauss!
Details in the Fabric
If it’s a broken part, replace it /
If it’s a broken arm, then brace it /
If it’s a broken heart, then face it
Hold your own, know your name, and go your own way /
And everything, everything will be fine
I rediscovered this song today and I’m so glad I did. Simple but powerful advice found nestled in a few lyrics.
The apparently unstoppable Dame Maggie reads.
I’m actually going to steal a dear friend’s story here. Mr. D., my friend, used to work at a bookshop in London. Lovely as this gentleman is - and he is the nicest, sweetest man you could ever hope to meet - he simply never got around to reading the Harry Potter books. Not out of any snobbish anti- feels; they just weren’t his bag and he never got them on his brodingnagian reading list. Consequently, he was unfamiliar with the films as well. So one day, Maggie Smith walks into the shop and asks him were the Potter books are. He shows her and asks if she’s enjoying them. “Enjoying them?” she says. “My dear man, I’m living them.”
"… and to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end."
Here’s to book seven. Here’s to the years of anticipation before it and the years of discussion in its wake. Here’s to the boy who lived and how he changed everything.
And here’s to you, if you know that “the very end” isn’t happening anytime soon.
After all this time? Always.
I think I spent too much of my twenties being afraid. Afraid that people would finally see me, the real me, beneath the sham of optimism and corny jokes, and they wouldn’t like what they saw. Afraid that I’d find a better parking spot when I was already out of the car. Mostly, afraid that I was falling behind some terrible hidden schedule.