A raconteur, through and through. Never in my thirteen years of life have I come across such wit and such intellect. May you live out the rest of your days in a stellar constellation of love, kindness, and great company.

good sport at dbd, sorry you died I didn't think your teammates would leave you to die - rip

Those rascals

WTF I JUST FOUND THIS. Okay my friends did this while I was sorting out a problem at a cyber cafe FOR THEM. I'll leave it for bittersweet memories hahaha!

Sorry you had to see this!

Steam send me here and now I can't unsee this. Anyway, as long as it works no worry about and I suggest playing games with Jet engines, really helps.

My penis is really small and I'm insecure about it

Lead on Commander

🇵🇮🇱🇱🇴🇼 🇫🇴🇷🇹 - 🇩🇪🇫🇪🇳🇸🇪 🇸🇾🇸🇹🇪🇲

　　　　　　　_,,...,,__　 ／`''/`i
　　|``~--,...~
　　i ヽ　　　　　　　　　　　:;
　　\　彡　　　　 　　　　　　ミ
　　〉　　　　●　　.　　●　　　ミ
　　彡　 　 ``　　　人　　``
　　ミ 　　　　　　　　　　　　ミ
　 彡:　　　　　 　　　　 　　　 　ミ
,︵I:　　　　　　　つ⌒　　　　ミ
r,_,.::::　　　 　　　　　　　　　　ミ
　 ヽ川:::::::　　　　　　　　　　;;
　　 ゞ..;;;;;;;__,.╰╯::::::╰╯::::＊

Hey, bud. Wishing you a groovy Christmas and kick-a$$ holidays. Rock on.

Everything

⊂ヽ
　 ＼＼ Λ＿Λ
　　 ＼( 'ㅅ' )
　　　 >　⌒ヽ
　　　/ 　 へ＼
　　 /　　/　＼＼
　　 ﾚ　ノ　　 ヽつ
　　/　/
　 /　/|
　(　(ヽ
　|　|、＼
　| 丿 ＼ ⌒)
　| |　　) /
⊂ヽ

Wow, that's over 5k hours you have on Dota! I'm a total noob at this game, in case it wasn't obvious. I used to play League of Legends please don't crucify me for some time, so I thought I'd give Dota a shot. But boy, this is so much harder. Even the last hitting part where every hero has a different attack animation. Roles are quite different, too. Don't even get me started on the items. All in all, I think it's safe to say it'll be some time before I can enjoy the game.

Hey! I hope you don't mind me adding you. Tawny has been one of, if not my kindest, friend here on Steam. And you seem as wicked as she is!

You will not beat me boy.

Wog Dad

I would rather share one lifetime with you
than face all the ages of this world alone.

Arwen Undómiel

　 　 　　 𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓞𝓵𝓭


When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.


　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓂 𝐵𝓊𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈

                        𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥
                     𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥.

                        𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘐𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 (𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭)
                              𝘣𝘺 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘒𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 (1795-1821)

ᴸᴱᵀᵀᴱᴿˢ ᴼᶠ ᴬᴰᴼᴿᴬᵀᴵᴼᴺ ᴿᴱᴹᴵᴺᴵˢᶜᴱᴺᵀ ᴼᶠ ᴹᵞ ᴼᵂᴺ ᴸᴼᵛᴱ

𝙼𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑.
𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 –
𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 –
𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 – 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚋’𝚍 𝚖𝚎…𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢𝚛’𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 –
𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 – 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 – 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞…

John Keats to Fanny Brawne

Darling – I love these velvet nights.
I’ve never been able to decide …
whether I love you most in the eternal classic half-lights where it blends with day
or in the full religious fan-fare of mid-night or perhaps in the lux of noon.
Anyway, I love you most and you ’phoned me just because you phoned me tonight –
I walked on those telephone wires for two hours
after 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞.

𝙕𝙚𝙡𝙙𝙖 𝙩𝙤 𝙁 𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙁𝙞𝙩𝙯𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙙

𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎,
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑.
𝙸’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜,
𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢, 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎.

𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 𝙆𝙖𝙝𝙡𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝘿𝙞𝙚𝙜𝙤 𝙍𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖

𝑀𝓎 𝒪𝓌𝓃 𝐵𝑜𝓎, 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎,
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒹-𝓇𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈
𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔
𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔.
𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓂 𝑔𝒾𝓁𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑜𝑒𝓉𝓇𝓎.

𝓞𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓐𝓵𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼

                  𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,
                  𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜,
                  𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛,
                  𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜;
                  𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.


                    𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚏𝚎, 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚊𝚢 (𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿)

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮, 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕥 𝟙𝟙𝟞

4𝓽𝓱 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻

...my heart and I surrender ourselves into your hands, beseeching you to hold us commended to your favour, and that by absence your affection to us may not be lessened : for it were a great pity to increase our pain, of which absence produces enough and more than I could ever have thought could be felt, reminding us of a point in astronomy which is this : the longer the days are, the more distant is the sun, and nevertheless the hotter; so is it with our love, for by absence we are kept a distance from one another, and yet it retains its fervour, at least on my side; I hope the like on yours, assuring you that on my part the pain of absence is already too great for me; and when I think of the increase of that which I am forced to suffer, it would be almost intolerable, but for the firm hope I have of your unchangeable affection for me...

𝓔𝔁𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓹𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓱 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 (𝓙𝓾𝓵𝔂 1527)

The demonstrations of your affection are such, the beautiful mottoes of the letter so cordially expressed, that they oblige me for ever to honour, love, and serve you sincerely, beseeching you to continue in the same firm and constant purpose, assuring you that, on my part, I will surprass it rather than make it reciprocal, if loyalty of heart and a desire to please you can accomplish this.




𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓱 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 (𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓪𝓻𝔂 1528)

Written with the hand of him
which desireth as much to be yours
as you do to have him.

Sinister even at a young age, my favourite historical sites were mainly dungeons. When we travelled around England on the weekends, I'd mainly be carefully inching my way up the worn, stubby stone tower steps of some historical prison. My father would on rare occasion take me into the city instead of the countryside and suffice to say I'd repeatedly end up at the Tower of London. Some of the history behind the prison felt extremely romantic to my little brain and heart. The first time I visited, my father acknowledged my love for literature by buying me a gift shop laminated booklet of all the letters that Henry VIII wrote to Anne Boleyn during their courtship, and the one letter that's believed she wrote back whilst imprisoned. Because they spent lengthy periods far apart, reading Henry's letters always makes me feel like he's talking about my love for you.

As tragic as their story was, mostly for Anne, the daughter they had together (Lizzy I) laid a kingdom more glorious than anything Henry would ever know. It's funny how all the poor traits and plain idiocy of Henry VIII lead him down a road of such laughable irony. His supposed fixation on producing a male heir, as well as that being his go-to excuse for his repertoire of extramarital affairs had nothing to show for it but his own unlawful promiscuity. It's amusing, for all his faults, his love for Anne was so timelessly transcribed in one of the most passionate documentations of a billet-doux known in history.

He knew, what he had discovered tonight,
was that his recaptured love of existence
had not been given back to him by the return of his desire for her—
but that the desire had returned after he had regained his world,
the love, the value and the sense of his world—
and that the desire was not an answer to her body,
but a celebration of himself and of his will to live.

𝐀𝐲𝐧 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝

   



   
      
         

When you are in love, it means that the person you love is of great personal, selfish importance to you and to your life. If you were selfless, it would have to mean that you derive no personal pleasure or happiness from the company and the existence of the person you love, and that you are motivated only by self-sacrificial pity for that person's need of you. I don't have to point out to you that no one would be flattered by, nor would accept, a concept of that kind. Love is not self-sacrifice, but the most profound assertion of your own needs and values. It is for your own happiness that you need the person you love, and that is the greatest compliment, the greatest tribute you can pay to that person.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝘼𝙮𝙣 𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙙 (1905-1982)

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝘖𝘨𝘯𝘪 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘢, 𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝘌 𝘴𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪 𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙤 𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙖 (1304-1374)

╔══╗
╚╗╔╝
╔╝(¯`v´¯)
╚══`.¸.🆄

Tʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴғᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ.
Aꜱ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀꜱ I ᴀᴍ,
I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ
ғɪɴᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ʟɪɢʜᴛ
ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇꜱ,
ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇꜱ. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 - Jᴏʜɴɴʏ Nɢᴜʏᴇɴ

I understand why we get stuck sometimes. Hearts are stubborn. They sink their hooks into bad habits that look like people and dreams. But look at how much we give of ourselves. Our most precious gifts handed over to another who may, or may not, value them as much as we do. Have you ever heard someone fall asleep? Or watched someone break down? There’re so few people in this world who you can share breakfast at midnight with, or who can completely forgive you. The people who get you to believe that it’s all actually worth it – and don’t flinch when you look them in the eyes, never waver, and make the bed more comfortable. So when you find them, you, in a way, find yourself. And when you lose them, you, in a way, lose yourself. But know this: you will always be too much for anyone not enough. Somewhere out there is someone who will bring pieces of you home. And you’ll realize that losing everything is the only way to figure out what’s worth finding.

J. Raymond

　　　　　　 　 　　/ﾞﾐヽ､,,___,,／ﾞヽ
　　　　　　 　 　　i ノ　　 川　 ｀ヽ'
　　　　　　 　 　　/　｀　O　 ． O i､
　　　　　　 　 　彡,　　 ミ(_,人_)彡ミ
　　　　　　 ∩, 　/　ヽ､,　　 　　　ノ
　　　　　　 丶ニ|　　　 '"''''''''"´　ﾉ
　　　　　　 　　　∪⌒∪"￣￣￣∪


　 　　　𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞,
𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚.

　　　　　　　　 ― 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐀. 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐧

✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮

𝙰𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜,
𝚘𝚏 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝,
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕-𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍
𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑.

Excerpt from Laurie Lee's I Can't Stay Long

✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮

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　 　🇾🇴🇺 🇦🇷🇪 🇲🇾 🇧🇱🇺🇪 🇨🇷🇦🇾🇴🇳,
　🇹🇭🇪 🇴🇳🇪 🇮 🇳🇪🇻🇪🇷 🇭🇦🇻🇪 🇪🇳🇴🇺🇬🇭 🇴🇫,
　🇹🇭🇪 🇴🇳🇪 🇮 🇺🇸🇪 🇹🇴 🇨🇴🇱🇴🇺🇷 🇲🇾 🇸🇰🇾.

　　　　　　　　　　　🇦.🇷. 🇦🇸🇭🇪🇷

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If you want to concentrate deeply on some problem, and especially some piece of writing or paper-work, you should acquire a cat. Alone with the cat in the room where you work ... the cat will invariably get up on your desk and settle placidly under the desk lamp ... The cat will settle down and be serene, with a serenity that passes all understanding. And the tranquility of the cat will gradually come to affect you, sitting there at your desk, so that all the excitable qualities that impede your concentration compose themselves and give your mind back the self-command it has lost. You need not watch the cat all the time. Its presence alone is enough. The effect of a cat on your concentration is remarkable, very mysterious.
- 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔, 𝙰 𝙵𝚊𝚛 𝙲𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚘𝚗 (𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟾)