I Don't Need To Publish

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.

And His Knowledge Remained Woefully Incomplete, Harry! That Which Voldemort Does Not Value, He Takes No Trouble To Comprehend. Of House-elves And Children's Tales, Of Love, Loyalty, And Innocence, Voldemort Knows And Understands Nothing. Nothing. That They All Have A Power Beyond His Own, A Power Beyond The Reach Of Any Magic, Is A Truth He Has Never Grasped.

Oh, Don’t Lie, Harry,” She Said Impatiently. “ron And Ginny Say You’ve Been Hiding From Everyone Since You Got Back From St. Mungo’s.” “they Do, Do They?” Said Harry, Glaring At Ron And Ginny. Ron Looked Down At His Feet But Ginny Seemed Quite Unabashed. “well, You Have!” She Said. “and You Won’t Look At Any Of Us!” “it’s You Lot Who Won’t Look At Me!” Said Harry Angrily. “maybe You’re Taking It In Turns To Look And Keep Missing Each Other,” Suggested Hermione, The Corners Of Her Mouth Twitching.

Nothing Like A Nighttime Stroll To Give You Ideas.

Depression Is The Most Unpleasant Thing I Have Ever Experienced. . . . It Is That Absence Of Being Able To Envisage That You Will Ever Be Cheerful Again. The Absence Of Hope. That Very Deadened Feeling, Which Is So Very Different From Feeling Sad. Sad Hurts But It's A Healthy Feeling. It Is A Necessary Thing To Feel. Depression Is Very Different.