Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

BABEL, OR THE NECESSITY OF VIOLENCE: AN ARCANE HISTORY OF THE OXFORD TRANSLATORS' REVOLUTION — R.F KUANG

And Robin found it incredible, how this country, whose citizens prided themselves so much on being better than the rest of the world, could not make it through an afternoon tea without borrowed goods.

languages aren’t just made of words. they’re modes of looking at the world. they’re the keys to civilization. and that’s knowledge worth killing for. — babel, by r.f. kuang

“i think translation can be much harder than original composition in many ways. the poet is free to say whatever he likes, you see – he can choose from any number of linguistic tricks in the language he’s composing in. word choice, word order, sound – they all matter, and without any one of them the whole thing falls apart. that’s why shelley writes that translating poetry is about as wise as casting a violet into a crucible. so the translator needs to be translator, literary critic, and poet all at once – he must read the original well enough to understand all the machinery at play, to convey its meaning with as much accuracy as possible, then rearrange the translated meaning into an aesthetically pleasing structure in the target language that, by his judgment, matches the original. the poet runs untrammeled across the meadow. the translator dances in shackles.”

IF WE WERE VILLAINS CHARACTERS: MEREDITH DARDENNE — I’m as bad as the rest of them. Treat a girl like a whore and she’ll learn to act like one. 

I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.

…and, as he had no surname, and we could not tell his age, we were obliged to content ourselves with the single word, 'Heathcliff.' (..) If you enter the kirkyard, you'll read, on his headstone, only that, and the date of his death.

Patroclus, he says, Patroclus, Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only. Somewhere Odysseus is kneeling, urging food and drink. A fierce red rage comes, and he almost kills him there. But he would have to let go of me. He cannot. He holds me so tightly I can feel the faint beat of his chest, like the wings of a moth. An echo, the last bit of spirit still tethered to my body. A torment.

What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything? If I stopped trying to belong? Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.

"you're so hateful." "i learned at your feet."

— To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA by Julia Armfield ★★★★★