Smoking is not good for you. Anything not good for you is bad. Hence, illegal.
Alcohol, caffeine, contact sports, meat, bad language, chocolate, gasoline, uneducational toys and spicy food.
Abortion is illegal, so is pregnancy if you don't have a license.
***
He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid — or like wind made solid — Harry couldn't make up his mind.
It is called a Pensieve, said Dumbledore. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.
Er, said Harry, who couldn't truthfully say that he had ever felt anything of the sort.
At these times, said Dumbledore, indicating the stone basin, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form.
You mean . . . that stuff's your thoughts? Harry said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin
Certainly, said Dumbledore. Let me show you. Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it — but then Harry saw that it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange silvery-white substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, and Harry, astonished, saw his own face swimming around the surface of the bowl.
***
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until Harry's mind was reeling, until he understood what Dumbledore had meant about a head becoming so full of thoughts that it would have been a relief to siphon them off.
~ J.K.Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
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Le Quatrième Pentamètre
Poetryjournal. This happened this evening. I spent the last 18 months deep in thought. What sort of book did people want? A memoir? A how-to? A digital book? A print book? What sort of font? What sort of line spacing and margins and... And for 18 months...
