I'm a what?" gasped Harry. "A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?

And anyway, it’s not as though I’ll never see Mum again, is it?

I'm very frustrated by fear of imagination. I don't think that's healthy.

Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.

I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom: As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.

I will be sharing additional information I've been hoarding for years about the world of Harry Potter