Oh, shut up Weatherby.

I'm sure that I'll never have another success like Harry Potter for the rest of my life, no matter how many books I write, and no matter whether they're good or bad.

I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.

Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something heavy. He had last seen those cool gray eyes through slits in a Death Eater’s hood, and last heard that man’s voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. He could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

I'm not writing to make anyone's children feel safe.

There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other.

Finding out what you’re good at, and doing it to the best of your ability, is the route to self-respect.