Volegov sunny blonde

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Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today! ‘Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!’ they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious./ hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries and Miss Melilot Brandybuck got on a table and with bells in their hands began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous.But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster near by, he blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided. / shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. / have called you all together for a Purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was of Yes (and No). Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. There were, as has been said, many young hobbits present. crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the mark DALE on them; which did not convey much to most of the hobbits, but they all agreed they were marvellous crackers. They contained instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one corner some of the young Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Uncle Bilbo to have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune. Master Everard Took

Gauguin The Port Dieppe

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make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

　　　"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
Still watching through his lashes, Harry saw Voldemort wave his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort's hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, emtpy and ragged: the Sorting Hat. 　　　"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The
　　　"Very well," said Voldemort, and Harry heard more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."

　　　

Pino Morning Breeze

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Doesn't your dad like magic?"

"He doesn't like anything, much," said Snape.

"Severus?"

A little smile twisted Snape's mouth when she said his name.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about the dementors again."
Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" 　　　Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry
"What d'you want to know about them for?"

"If I use magic outside school – "

　　　"They wouldn't give you to the dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You're not going to end up in Azkaban, you're too – "

　　　He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing.

　　　"

Cole Schroon Lake

Cole Schroon LakeCole Scene from ManfredCole Saint John in the WildernessCole Prometheus Bound
McGonagall was saying, "but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects -"
　　　"I know that you are preparing to fight." There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."
　　　But her final words were drowned as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold, and clear. There was no telling from where it came. It seemed to issue from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had once commanded, it might have lain dormant there for centuries.

Chase The Olive Grove

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stuff … Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It's everywhere, everyone's talking about it, Terry Boot got beaten up by Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!"

"Yeah, it's true," said Harry.

Neville laughed gleefully.
　　　"You're right," said Harry, "but tell us about Hogwarts, Neville, we haven't heard anything."
"What did you do with the dragon?"

"Released it into the wild," said Ron. "Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet"

"Don't exaggerate, Ron –"

　　　"But what have you been doing? People have been saying you've just been on the run, Harry, but I don't think so. I think you've been up to something."

Peeters Tyson's Creek

Peeters Tyson's CreekPeeters Turnberry LakePeeters Somerset BridgePeeters Scarborough Pond
twenty more exploded into being while Ron hopped on the spot, part of his shoe burned away by contact with the hot metal.

"Stand still, don't move!" said Hermione, clutching at Ron.
blazed with heat, so that the vault felt like a furnace. Harry's wandlight passed over shields and goblin-made helmets set on shelves rising to the ceiling; higher and higher he raised the beam, until suddenly it found an object that made his heart skip and his hand tremble.
　　　"Just look around!" said Harry. "Remember, the cup's small and gold, it's got a badger engraved on it, two handles – otherwise see if you can spot Ravenclaw's symbol anywhere, the eagle –"

　　　They directed their wands into every nook and crevice, turning cautiously on the spot. It was impossible not to brush up against anything; Harry sent a great cascade of fake Galleons onto the ground where they joined the goblets, and now there was scarcely room to place their feet, and the glowing gold

Achenbach Sturm an der Küste

Achenbach Sturm an der KüsteAchenbach Storm at Dutch CoastMonet Still Life Apples And GrapesMonet Tulip Fields With The Rijnsburg Windmill
Bill reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom he set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted thanks, and Bill left, closing the door upon them all.

"I'm sorry to take you out of bed," said Harry. "How are your legs?"

"Painful," replied the goblin. "But mending."
　　　"—that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" said Griphook. "I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous."
　　　He was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor, and wore a strange look: half truculent, half intrigued. Harry noted the goblin's sallow skin, his long thin fingers, his black eyes. Fleur had removed his shoes: His long feet were dirty. He was larger than a house-elf, but not by much. His domed head was much bigger than a human's.

"You probably don't remember –" Harry began.

Hardy Calla Lily Duo

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the idea from the Sorcerer's Stone; you know, instead of a stone to make you immortal, a stone to reverse death." The smell from the kitchen was getting stronger. It was something like burning underpants. Harry wondered whether it would be possible to eat enough of his feelings.
occurred to me before but I've heard stuff about charms wearing off cloaks when they get old, or them being ripped apart by spells so they've got holes, Harry's was owned by his dad, so it's not exactly new, is it, but it's just ... perfect!" "Yes, all right, but Ron, the stone..."
"What about the Cloak, though?" said Ron slowly. "Don't you realize, he's right? I've got so used to Harry's Cloak and how good it is, I never stopped to think. I've never heard of one like Harry's. It's infallible. We've never been spotted under it --" "Of course not -- we're invisible when we're under it, Ron!"

"But all the stuff he said about other cloaks, and they're not exactly ten a Knut, you know, is true! It's never

Li-Leger Oriental Blossoms I

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insects beneath that wide sky.

"He loved you," Hermione whispered. "I know he loved you."
Thanks for the tea. I'll finish the watch. You get back in the warm." She hesitated, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared.
Harry dropped his arms.

　　　"I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me."

　　　Harry picked up Hermione's wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat back down in the entrance of the tent.

"

Rothko Untitled 1968 Blue On Blue Ground

Rothko Untitled 1968 Blue On Blue GroundRothko Untitled 1963Rothko Untitled 1961Rothko Untitled 1958
share the connection. They could have visited the place together; for a moment Harry imagined coming here with Dumbledore, of what a bond that would have been, of how much it would have meant to him. But it seemed that to Dumbledore, the fact that their families lay side by side in the same graveyard had been an unimportant coincidence, irrelevant, perhaps, to the job he wanted Harry to do.
"Are you sure he never mentioned – ?" Hermione began. 　　　"No," said Harry curtly, then, "let's keep looking," and he turned away, wishing he had not seen the stone: He did not want his excited trepidation tainted with resentment.
　　　Hermione was looking at Harry, and he was glad that his face was hidden in shadow. He read the words on the tombstone again. Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. He did not understand what these words meant. Surely Dumbledore had chosen them, as the eldest member of the family once his mother had died.

Ford Madox Brown The Coat of Many Colors painting

Ford Madox Brown The Coat of Many Colors paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance at Bougival paintingMary Cassatt Children Playing On The Beach painting
gracefully through the air to join the stag.

"C'mon," said Harry, and he led Hermione and Mrs. Cattermole to the door.

　　　When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. Harry looked around; the dementors were falling back on both sides of them, melding into the darkness, scattering before the silver creatures.

　with your families," Harry told the waiting Muggle-born, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses and still cowering slightly. "Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That's the – er – new official position. Now, if you'll just follow the Patronuses, you'll be able to leave the Atrium."

John William Waterhouse Crystal Ball painting

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were able to Disapparate before they arrived."

"Were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?" interjected Hermione.

　　　"A mixture; but to all intents and purposes they're the same thing now," said Lupin. "There were about a dozen of them, but they didn't know you were there, Harry. Arthur heard a rumor that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it's true, he didn't give you away."
　　　"The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom," Lupin went on. "They found the ghoul, but didn't want to get too close – and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there.
　　　Harry looked at Ron and Hermione; their expressions reflected the mingled shock and gratitude he felt. He had never liked Scrimgeour much, but if what Lupin said was true, the man's final act had been to try to protect Harry.

William Bouguereau Two Sisters painting

William Bouguereau Two Sisters paintingWilliam Bouguereau The Wasp's Nest paintingWilliam Bouguereau The Nut Gatherers painting
how are you?"

　　　Ron's ears had turned bright red again. After glancing at Krum's invitation as if he did not believe a word of it, he said, much too loudly, "how come you're here?"
　　　"Your friend is not pleased to see me," said Krum, as they entered the now packed marquee. "Or is he a relative?" he added with a glance at Harry's red curly hair. 　　　"Cousin." Harry muttered, but Krum was not really listening. His appearance was causing a stir, particularly amongst the veela cousins
"Fleur invited me," said Krum, eyebrows raised.

　　　Harry, who had no grudge against Krum, shook hands; then feeling that it would be prudent to remove Krum from Ron's vicinity, offered to show him his seat.

: He was, after all, a famous Quidditch player. While people were still craning their

John Singer Sargent Atlantic Storm painting

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Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books. A second later, Ron had snatched his arm back from around her shoulders; she had dropped The Monster of Monsters on his foot. The book had broken free from its restraining belt and snapped viciously at Ron's ankle.

　　　"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from Ron's leg and retied it shit.

　　　"What are you doing with all those books anyway?" Ron asked, limping back to his bed.

　　　"Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione, "When we're looking for the Horcruxes.

　　　"Ha ha," said Hermione, looking down at Spellman's Syllabary. "I wonder . . . will we need to translate runes? It's possible. . . . I think we'd better take it, to be safe."

Fra Angelico paintings

Fra Angelico paintings
Frederic Edwin Church paintings
Being happy and staying happy is all about our day-to-day activities according to this theory of sustainable happiness. Research suggests that the contributions to our 50% genetic, 10% from our circumstances and fully 40% determined by our day-to-day activities. But what evidence is there for this theory?
One prediction from this theory is that engaging in new activities should increase our more than an improvement in our circumstances. This is exactly what Sheldon and Lyubomirsky (2006) tested in three related studies.
Frederic Remington paintings
New activities vs. new circumstancesTwo different signs were put up around a university campus asking for participants. One asked for participants who had recently seen an improvement in their circumstances while another asked for those who had recently taken up a new activity.The study also tested how much these changes had been affected by hedonic adaptation (see sustainable

John Singer Sargent El Jaleo painting

John Singer Sargent El Jaleo paintingRembrandt Susanna and the Elders paintingRembrandt History Painting painting
grabbed a large plastic mug and held it under Changez's mouth. The dying man vomited up more than a pint of phlegm mixed up with blood: and after that was too weak to talk. This time Salahuddin did have to carry him, to the back seat of the Mercedes, where he sat between Nasreen and Kasturba while Salahuddin drove at top speed to Breach Candy Hospital, half a mile down the road. "Shall I open the window, Abba?" he asked at one point, and Changez shook his head and bubbled: "No." Much later, Salahuddin realized this had been his father's last word.
The emergency ward. Running feet, orderlies, wheelchair, Changez being heaved on to a bed, curtains. A young doctor, doing what had to be done, very quickly but without the appearance of speed. _I like him_, Salahuddin thought. Then the doctor looked him in the eye and said: "I don't think he's going to make it." It felt like being punched in the stomach. Salahuddin realized he'd

Vincent van Gogh Self Portrait painting

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Saeed, sweating and giddy from the heat and his growing despair, would realize that the marchers had left his car some way behind, and he would have to totter back to it by himself, sunk in gloom. One day he got back to the station wagon to find that an empty coconut-shell thrown from the window of a passing bus had smashed his laminated windscreen, which looked, now, like a spider's web full of diamond flies. He had to knock all the pieces out, and the glass diamonds seemed to be mocking him as they fell on to the road and into the car, they seemed to speak of the transience and worthlessness of earthly possessions, but a secular man lives in the world of things and Mirza Saeed did not intend to be broken as easily as a windscreen. At night he would go to lie beside his wife on a bedroll under the stars by the side of the grand trunk road. When he told her about the accident she offered him cold comfort. "It's a sign," she said. "Abandon the station wagon and join the rest of us at last."
"Abandon a Mercedes-Benz?" Saeed yelped in genuine horror.

Thomas Kinkade Silent Night painting

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severe dent in what remained of his idea of the normal, average quality of the real; but there were also countervailing forces at work.
On _Gardeners' World_ he was shown how to achieve something called a "chimeran graft" (the very same, as chance would have it, that had been the pride of Otto Cone's garden it had been before the altering of the universe. He watched a good deal of television with half an eye, channel-hopping compulsively, for he was a member of the remote-control culture of the present as much as the piggy boy on the street corner; he, too, could comprehend, or at least enter the illusion of comprehending, the composite video monster his button-pushing brought into being ... what a leveller this remote--control gizmo was, a Procrustean bed for the twentieth century; it chopped down the heavyweight and mantelpiece, and, without pausing in her tirade, she swept it to the floor, smashing it beyond hope of repair. He never spoke to her again; when she died, half

Edward Hopper Les Pont des Arts painting

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and sixty. Sun-god, eagle, rainbow. The colossus of Hubal. Three hundred and sixty wait for Mahound, knowing they are not to be spared. And are not: but let's not waste time there. Statues fall; stone breaks; what's to be done is done.
Mahound, after the cleansing of the House, sets up his tent or the old fairground. The people crowd around the tent, embracing the victorious faith. The Submission of Jahilia: this, too, is inevitable, and need not be lingered over.
While Jahilians bow before him, mumbling sentences, _there is no God but Al-Lah_, Mahound whispers to Khalid. Somebody has not come to kneel before him; somebody long awaited. "Salman," the Prophet wishes to know. "Has he been found?"
"Not yet. He's hiding; but it won't be long."
There is a distraction. A veiled woman kneels before him, kissing his feet. "You must stop," he enjoins. "It is only God who must be worshipped." But what foot-kissery this is! Toe by toe, joint by joint, the woman licks,

Lord Frederick Leighton Nude on the Beach painting

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Now there was a subject which Alicja, who would readily discuss most taboo matters, refused to touch upon: why does a survivor of the camps live forty years and then complete the job the monsters didn't get done? Does great evil eventually triumph, no matter how strenuously it is resisted? Does it leave a sliver of ice in the blood, working its way through until it hits the heart? Or, worse: can a man's death be incompatible with his on learning of her father's death had been fury, flung such questions as these at her mother. Who, stonefaced beneath a wide black hat, said only: "You have inherited his lack of restraint, my dear."
After Otto's death Alicja ditched the elegant high style of dress and gesture which had been her offering on the altar of his lust for integration, her attempt to be his Cecil Beaton grande dame. "Phoo," she confided in Allie, "what a relief, my dear, to be shapeless for a change." She now wore her grey hair in a straggly bun, put on a succession of identical floral-print supermarket dresses

Thomas Kinkade The old fishing hole painting

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position of victim. Certainly, he has been victim _ized_, but we know that all abuse of power is in part the responsibility of the abused; our passiveness colludes with, permits such crimes." Whereupon, having scolded the gathering into shamefaced submission, he requested Sufyan to make available the small attic room that was presently unoccupied, and Sufyan, in his turn, was rendered entirely unable, by feelings of solidarity and guilt, to ask for a single p in rent. Hind did, it is true, mumble: "Now I know the world is mad, when a devil becomes my house guest," but she did so under her breath, and nobody except her elder daughter Mishal heard what she said.
Sufyan, taking his cue from his younger daughter, went up to where Chamcha, huddled in his blanket, was drinking enormous quantities of Hind's unrivalled chicken yakhni, squatted down, and placed an arm around the still-shivering unfortunate. "Best place for you is here," he said, speaking

Henri Rousseau Sleeping Gypsy painting

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ascetic pleasures of its taste. "The Empress," he points out, "drinks wine." Burgundies, clarets, hocks mingle their intoxicating corruptions within that body both fair and foul. The sin is enough to condemn her for all time without hope of redemption. The picture on his bedroom wall shows the Empress Ayesha holding, in both hands, a human skull filled with a dark red fluid. The Empress drinks blood, but the Imam is a water man. "Not for nothing do the peoples of our hot lands offer it reverence," the Monograph proclaims. "Water, preserver of . No civilized individual can refuse it to another. A grandmother, be her limbs ever so arthritically stiff, will rise at once and go to the tap if a small child should come to her and ask, pani, nani. Beware all those who blaspheme against it. Who pollutes it, dilutes his soul."
The Imam has often vented his rage upon the memory of the late Aga Khan, as a result of being shown the text of an interview in which the head of the Ismailis was observed drinking vintage champagne. _O, sir, this champagne is