You May Have Noticed That The Books You Really Love Are Bound Together By A Secret Thread. You Know Very

“You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw - but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clapclap of water against the boat’s side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say “Here at last is the thing I was made for.” We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.”

— C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

🎶 I see the moon and the moon sees me 🎶 

Me: “Oh, hello moon.”

Moon: *Lingers*

Me: *sighs longingly* “Not going to lie to you moon, legit a quarter of my desire to be a werewolf is that I can spend dark nights together with you.”

Does anyone else feel an intense, soothing sense of recognition and peace when they look at the moon? Or is my brain being weird?

“You know, for a monarchy, the King doesn’t seem to play much of a role in your affairs.”

“Well, It’s embarrassing to admit, but we’ve rather lost track of them.”

“Lost track of them?”

“Quite so. We know we have a monarch, but we don’t know who they are or where they reside.”

“… okay, you’re going to have to run that by me again.“

“To be blunt, the last King had something of a roving eye. While we’re reasonably certain one of his numerous illegitimate offspring has inherited the divine mantle, we’re not sure which one – if, indeed, it’s even one we know about.”

“Can’t you just, you know, pick one?“

“Heavens, no. Our monarch rules by divine right. The land is bound to them. Its prosperity and weather reflect their health and moods. The sacred bond is clearly responding to something, so we can rest assured that a living monarch exists, but none of the candidates we’ve tested have panned out.”

“So, the rain of opera-singing fish last Tuesday…?“

“Wherever our current King or Queen is, they’re evidently having a fantastic time.”

things english speakers know, but don’t know we know.

First gif: Lexa waits patiently for the door to open and nods a greeting to Clarke.

Second gif: Clarke wanders into Lexa’s room where she’s sitting with her eyes closed. Clarke glances back to ensure no one is coming on to stop her from disturbing Lexa’s mediation.  Third gif: Clarke wanders into Lexa’s room. She proves she has been somewhat house trained (having now lived in actual house for some time) by closing the door behind her. Lexa resigns herself to giving Clarke a treat because good behaviour should be rewarded, even if it’s just an incremental improvement over bad behaviour.

otp: well-mannered hoe™ x rude hoe™