There was a point where I really felt I had 'penniless divorcee lone parent' tattooed on my head.

Oh, HONESTLY, don't you two read?

Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?” said Harry, pointing at his scar. “I might get lucky again.

As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters. I wish you all very good lives.

You foul, lying, evil little cockroach!

I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat.

Cobbled streets and no shops open past six o'clock, a communal life that seemed to revolve around church, and where you could often hear bird song and nothing else: Gaia felt as though she had fallen through a portal into a land lost in time.