There are things that should have changed my life, and then there are things that actually did.
I am a Slytherin. My Patronus is a cat. The reality sunk in like basilisk fangs: I am Millicent Bulstrode.
And as the saxophonist stood to our applause, I silently thanked Mr. Moore for teaching me the language of time, imbuing this Saturday night with more meaning than it could otherwise have had.
What matters here instead is the implicit challenge, the casual middle finger, that the novel tosses off at the rest of the genre.
In college, my friend Lauren was describing the physical features that she found attractive about men. She said, “I don’t know, beards are really growing on me.”
14. Whip the egg whites until “stiff peaks form,” a description that—even after over ten years of making this recipe—you still can’t confidently identify.
“Mr. Montei, who is your favorite rapper?” asked one of my high school freshman students.
The ketchup consumption in my house has dramatically increased this fall.
And if you’ve ever been so unlucky as to be served a “modernized” version of green bean casserole that calls for shallots and haricots-verts and wild mushrooms… I’m sorry.
But do we ever really comprehend what happens when we try to meet with God?