We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.

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.

Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back.

Everybody finished the song at different times. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. 'Ah music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do here!

Every now and then I read a poem that does touch something in me, but I never turn to poetry for solace or pleasure in the way that I throw myself into prose.

He must have known I'd want to leave you." "No, he must have known you would always want to come back.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.