i can't use any mildly complicated word anymore without thinking 'damn faze adapt would love that one'
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i can't use any mildly complicated word anymore without thinking 'damn faze adapt would love that one'
@phineasnigellusblack
Dear Phineas,
the whole affair concerning our son, Phineas, still troubles me deeply. I can only hope nothing more of that has reached your ear. I have asked Arcturus and Belvina if they had witnessed anything alarming about their brother, especially last summer.
Well, Arcturus couldn‘t tell me anything of importance, as you know, he prefers to be for himself and isn’t very close to Phineas, so therefore they hadn’t spend a lot of time together.
I‘m afraid I learned something of relevance from Belvina, though, and accidentally so, for she acted like she shouldn’t have told me. Apparently, she and Phineas had spent quite a lot of time outside playing with that non-magical boy I mentioned in my last letter. I strongly assure you that I was unaware of that circumstance, I had been quite occupied with Cygnus and recovering from his complicated birth. I was most certain that my punishment last time had been sufficient. I recognise my mistake in believing that and will be more aware from now on, especially when the children are outside.
Of course I told Belvina how wrong their actions were and that there will be consequences if it ever happens again. I strictly forbid her to talk to that boy as well.
Except that, I must assume that Phineas is somehow badly influenced by some of his classmates in Hogwarts. I‘m sure your talk with him will reinstall his memory of our family’s beliefs, though.
Ursula
P.S. Aurora, your niece, has been suspiciously quiet. I hope she isn’t plotting anything, just be cautious, dear!
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Each day, we must choose to either follow the inclinations of our old, sinful selves or to live as new creations in Christ. Join us as we examine this internal battle and learn the key to success, on Truth For Life with Alistair Begg.
Fred fancied that he saw to the bottom of his uncle Featherstone's soul, though in reality half what he saw there was no more than the reflex of his own inclinations. The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is chiefly made up of their own wishes.
George Eliot, Middlemarch
c. Early 20th Century [Illustrated postcard depicting a cupid showing his love by painting a woman posing on a heart shaped board. The poem below reads "Love, dear little artist-- superfine, painted your picture for my Valentine."]