Первое, большая просьба — не прикреплять 23 MB вложений к письму. Я так и не смог открыть письмо в клиенте и отвечаю из браузера.
Thus Harry was fully rested, and his pouch contained almost everything which he owned and might conceivably need. Harry had, in fact, run into the volume limitation on the pouch; and keeping in mind that he would need to store a large snake, and might need to store who-knew-what-else, he had removed some of the bulkier items, like the car battery. He was up to the point now where he could Transfigure something the size of a car battery in four minutes flat, so it wasn't much of a loss.
Harry had kept the emergency flares and the oxyacetylene welding torch and fuel tank, since you couldn't just Transfigure things that were to be burned.
Давно пора перестать себя ненавидеть, но все как-то недосуг.
[16:26:51]Message too long. Maximum length — 4096 bytes.
My first experience with erotic literature was provided by the Bible. I would sit poring over Old Testament descriptions of lasciviousness, burningly aware of the fundamentalist erection bulging in my trousers while Mother and aunts beamed approval from the living room, sure that I would become a priest.
у меня стек корраптится стек
[23:22:45]<umart> Сэр, я понял ваш намёк с аватаркой, поставил пси+ радуюсь, спасибо!
bnw.im> Reply by @goren:
@l29ah Усталость искажает восприятие. Не воспринимайте испытывая усталость.
@ulidtko Воприятие искажает восприятие. Ранее воспринятая информация влияет на восприятие новой информации. Не воспринимайте, если вы уже восприняли.
#YMRBYJ/0CS (357) bnw.im
Turn fear around. Its other face is excitement.
"Okay, yes. Thanks." I was looking around at the sidewalk, the buildings, the lamp-posts; everything seemed to emit a subtle light. We passed a tiny garden in which the low bushes seemed to present themselves, calling out for attention, for acknowledgement. I smiled at them and said Hi, under my breath.
An elderly man in a worn coat was walking slowly ahead of us. As we moved past him, I glanced at his profile, trying to see inside. I could feel invisible walls and a dull, irritable tiredness, a readiness to be annoyed. I thought, if only it were possible to stop him and say something like, "Dear sir, just open your eyes and look around you; it's an incredible world!
Don't close yourself off from all the life and beauty around you!"
I had been basking no longer than a few seconds in my own niceness and wisdom when a piece of information shoved itself at me and I suddenly knew that, first, the man needed his walls just exactly where they were, and didn't want to be rescued from them. Second, that it was not my right, not anyone's right, to tell him that there was another way to live, a better way to be, to urge him to see or hear what he didn't choose to see or hear. It was his choice to live the way he was living, and I must not make the mistake of passing judgment on the conduct of a life I knew nothing about.
Oh, boy. Just got slapped.
I remembered my mother telling me that there is a basic rule in spiritual matters: never offer what the other person hasn't asked for. Her phrase was, "Wait until you get the question before you volunteer the answer."
I thought about all the books — millions of books all over the world — in which human beings in many places and times had written about the human psyche, about life and death and the nature of God, and of how few people read them. I thought, how many people have taken peyote? I've heard lots of people talk about Huxley and his mescaline experience, wishing they could explore the way he did, have that kind of adventure, but how many of them actually go looking for mescaline or peyote to try it themselves? Most people hold onto the familiar. Who wants to actually risk having his universe changed? I do. Me.
For example, even if you understand how important it is to make beliefs pay rent in anticipated experiences, actually doing that can be really hard. Why is it so hard? Possibly for a few different reasons, but prominent among them is the following. If you've thought something lots of times without ever explicitly identifying it as something you're thinking, without putting much distance between yourself and the thought, your sense of self gets tangled up in it. It's not nice to let go of something that close to you, even if it's useless or harmful. It feels sort of like trying to kick out your own child when you know you can no longer afford to take care of her--and it feels distinctly unlike taking a broken blender to the dump, which is closer to what should really be going on.