Лепш пішыце ў стол
Гэты пост павінен быў быць пра тое, як фігова філолагам, калі яны не ў стане выдушыць з сябе ні слова, нават у Інтэрнеце.
Але, праводзячы колькі часу з дзецьмі, і не з адным, мабыць, вяртаюся да іх мышлення, не заражанага вышейшай адукацыяй, і пачынаю нештачка цяміць. Часам тое, што здаецца праклёнам, з'яўляецца блаславеннем.
Далей цытата з кніжкі, якую зараз чытаю, усе падкрэсленні мае:
"How did Ginny get like this?" he asked slowly.
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."
"What are you talking about?" said Harry.
"The diary," said Riddle. `My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes-how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" -Riddle's eyes glinted "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her..."
All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost
hungry look in them.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an elevenyear-old
girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket..."
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.
"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her..."
[...]
Яшчэ: дзеці прымушаюць жанчыну з развітым матчыным інстынктам думаць. Самаразвіццё і г. д. Анталагічны,
ведаеце, сэнс жыцця жанчыны і ўсялякае такое.
I know why you couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother," he added.
[...]
"So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm. I can see now...".
Але, праводзячы колькі часу з дзецьмі, і не з адным, мабыць, вяртаюся да іх мышлення, не заражанага вышейшай адукацыяй, і пачынаю нештачка цяміць. Часам тое, што здаецца праклёнам, з'яўляецца блаславеннем.
Далей цытата з кніжкі, якую зараз чытаю, усе падкрэсленні мае:
"How did Ginny get like this?" he asked slowly.
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."
"What are you talking about?" said Harry.
"The diary," said Riddle. `My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes-how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" -Riddle's eyes glinted "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her..."
All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost
hungry look in them.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an elevenyear-old
girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket..."
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.
"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her..."
[...]
Яшчэ: дзеці прымушаюць жанчыну з развітым матчыным інстынктам думаць. Самаразвіццё і г. д. Анталагічны,
ведаеце, сэнс жыцця жанчыны і ўсялякае такое.
I know why you couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother," he added.
[...]
"So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm. I can see now...".