4. the potter generation | any two ships — james & lily
She was dramatic. He was dynamic. She was precise. He was impulsive. He was James, and she was Lily, and one day they shared a kiss, but before that they shared many arguments, for he was cocky, and she was sweet, and matters of the heart require time. (x)
"The last thing I want to be known as is That-Chick-Who-Gets-Her-Clothes-Off. That’s the very last thing I’d like anyone to ever say about me."
“The prophecy said neither one can live while the other one survives. It means one of us is going to have to kill the other, in the end.” — Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran laying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he’d given her Needle.
"I think if your clients want to sit on my shoulders and call themselves tall, they have the right to give it a try - but there’s no requirement that I enjoy sitting here listening to people lie. You have part of my attention - you have the minimum amount. The rest of my attention is back at the offices of Facebook, where my colleagues and I are doing things that no one in this room, including and especially your clients, are intellectually or creatively capable of doing.. Did I adequately answer your condescending question?"
I don’t have any fears for the planet because I believe mama earth can take care of herself, and will be fine. it’s good at regeneration. my biggest fear is that people aren’t going to realize in time that we are nature, and that we need to think about that fact and respect that fact. people talk about global warming, the oceans, and the rainforest, and we need to be talking about it, but nothing’s going to change unless we change ourselves. it goes back to the whole female thing—no one is going to respect females until females start respecting females—and nothing’s going to change in nature until we start with our own bodies, mental health, and happiness. the human race isn’t going to be so fine if we don’t take some necessary steps pronto.
On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy Steiner was robbery—so much life, so much to live for—yet somehow, I’m certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away. He’d have cried and turned and smiled if only he could have seen the book thief on her hands and knees, next to his decimated body. He’d have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips. Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He’d have loved it all right. You see? Even death has a heart.