To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him.
— Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
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summer lovin’, had me a blast
summer lovin’, happened so fast
summer dreams, ripped at the seams
but, oh, those summer nights
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There’s always someone who got killed.
The plotline is always the same.
It’s the details that make or break the story.
edit for the wonderful fic Under My Wings You Will Find Refuge! by @fivie
(insp)
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hogwarts au: enjolras
a beauxbatons student who was transferred to hogwarts
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rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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