Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you.

It unscrews the other way.

I've laid my friends bare.

And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off? Or pretending? He let them fall.

Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, “Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.

She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn't see it in themselves.

I'm not so naive that I didn't know or didn't suspect that, at some point, someone was going to say "You're writing about the occult." My wizarding world is a world of imagination. I think it is a moral world.