But Death was cunning.
I find that discussing an idea out loud is often the way to kill it stone dead.
The poor are discussed as this homogeneous mash, like porridge. The idea that they might be individuals, and be where they are for very different, diverse reasons, again seems to escape some people.
At least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron's goalkeeping ability.
Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset.
You could say sorry," suggested Harry bluntly. "What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" muttered Ron. "What did you have to imitate her for?" "She laughed at my mustache!" "So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen.