Once Again, You Show All The Sensitivity

He Tried To Give His Wife Pleasure In Little Ways, Because He Had Come To Realize, After Nearly Two Decades Together, How Often He Disappointed Her In The Big Things. It Was Never Intentional. They Simply Had Very Different Notions Of What Ought To Take Up Most Space In Life.

Depression Isn't Just Being A Bit Sad. It's Feeling Nothing. It's Not Wanting To Be Alive Anymore.

How Do You Feel, Georgie?" Whispered Mrs. Weasley. George's Fingers Groped For The Side Of His Head. "saintlike," He Murmured. "what's Wrong With Him?" Croaked Fred, Looking Terrified. "is His Mind Affected?" "saintlike," Repeated George, Opening His Eyes And Looking Up At His Brother. "you See...i'm Holey, Fred, Geddit?

We Tried To Shut Him In A Pyramid, But Mum Spotted Us.

I’ll Make Goyle Do Lines, It’ll Kill Him, He Hates Writing,” Said Ron Happily. He Lowered His Voice To Goyle’s Low Grunt And, Screwing Up His Face In A Look Of Pained Concentration, Mimed Writing In Midair. “i... Must... Not... Look... Like... A... Baboon’s... Backside.