There are things you can not tell, you know.
Here's something for you. My mother, as many of you know, is a biologist. I was raised around fossils and books full of Linnean names and things about the Cambrian. I can identify an Anomalocaris at ten paces. Which I bet most other people here couldn't do
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I might never want to teach anyone the difference between, say, three Trilobites, but it does sting to know that the words might not exist to do so.
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I can't say I worry much about the walls of language, these days. I would like to find tonnes of things wrong with N.E.W.T.S., but alas, Slytherins are not Ravenclaws.
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Then again, I've never wished to journey to the absolute centre of the earth and burn to a cinder, but there is a way in which it rather stings that I cannot.
On the other hand, there are a number of things I would never tell anyone, and I am proud of such because I could, but choose not to. It's the choice, you see. The ability.
And you should worry, you know. A lot. One day, you might find yourself pushed up against them.
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