"This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.” - Gary Provost
Reading this was so satisfying woah
Take note, writers!
"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you’ve tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says ‘What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.’ "
"Oh Susan!" said Jill. "She’s interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grow-up."
"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she’ll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one’s life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."
"Well, let’s not talk about that now," said Peter.
#there is a special kind of rage that fills a girl’s heart the first time she learns about what happened to susan #and that rage stays with a girl #she carries it around #she remembers when she puts on her make up ‘aslan kicked susan out of heaven for this’ #and she looks into her reflect and whispers #’better to reign in hell than serve in heaven motherfucker’ #the only lesson c.s. lewis had to teach us was that men are intimately #threatened by women who own their own sexuality
The one I wanted to throttle was Polly. Lucy is possibly young enough not to really get it yet but Polly was a grown-ass woman and should have known better than to talk that kind of shit about a young woman wanting to stop being a child.
Susan wanted to grow up. She wanted (as mentioned in ‘The Horse And His Boy’) to fall in love and get married. She worried, she protected, she mothered. And she was the only one, the only one out of all of them, who got it right. Aslan told them they had to move on. To grow up. To find him in their own world.
Susan was Aslan’s big fucking success. The others couldn’t do it. They couldn’t take the lessons they’d learned in Narnia into their own world. They couldn’t make a difference there - no, they all spent their time obsessing with getting back. Narnia was heaven for them and they couldn’t function anywhere else, so Aslan took them back one last time to suspend them forever in the only world they wanted.
Narnia was not Susan’s heaven. Narnia was not what Susan wanted. Eternal youth and innocence was not what Susan wanted. Susan wanted to grow. Susan wanted to grow up. Susan wanted love, and family, and her own world. Susan’s heaven was the one drawn from Earth, from a life lived to the full.
Since I was a kid, I have always thought of ‘The Last Battle’ as a very sad story because it is ultimately a story of failure. All the ‘kings and queens of Narnia’ die and are brought back to the dying magical world because they couldn’t accept what Aslan had told them over and over about growing up and moving on. They weren’t supposed to come back. It was a final act of mercy that Aslan allowed them to do so, since they couldn’t bear to live in their own world.
I think Susan would visit them someday, with her queen’s crown and her blazing red lipstick and the lines of growth and character on her face, and very gently explain to the perpetual children in Narnia that she was thankful that Aslan hadn’t taken her with the others. That she was thankful for her children and grandchildren, for boyfriends and husbands, for a life that was full and happy and productive. That she never needed Narnia to be happy. That she missed them, that she’d mourned for them, but she wouldn’t change her own choice for anything.
Elizabeth said something when we arrived in London. “We women are but the property of gentlemen.” But it came into my head that I have been blessed with freedom twice over. As a negro and as a woman.
Circulating intimate photos of an individual without their consent is never acceptable. People are entitled to expect a reasonable level of respect and privacy.
British Secretary of State for Education and Minister for Women and Equalities Nicky Morgan
CLINTASHA AU - After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha finds Clint in a small town on the countryside. She soon begins to notice he is much more quiet and somber than his usual self. Something had happened to him while he was gone.
"Clint, are you alright?"
I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.