When you were straight, evil thoughts and memories came pouring up out of the darkness inside you; buzzing black flies clinging to the insides of your skull.

I scared Stephen King.

You don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!

If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight.

And as she jogged out of sight, they could hear her muttering, "Tentacula. Devil's Snare. And Snargaluff pods. Yes, I'd like to see Death Eaters fighting those.

Sword? Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though. He'll lend you one.

There is plenty of ambitious competition and hypocrisy in the middle class, which makes it a rather fertile environment for a writer.