Hermione: You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cocroach! Ron: Hermione, no! He's no worth it.

I sat and thought for four (delayed train) hours, and all the details bubbled up in my brain, and this scrawny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who didn't know he was a wizard became more and more real to me.

Madam Pince, our librarian, tells me that it is 'pawed about, dribbled on, and generally maltreated' nearly everyday - a high compliment for any book.

No, there is literally nothing on the business side that I wouldn't sacrifice in a heartbeat to have an extra couple of hours' writing. Nothing.

And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

I love being a writer. I am very lucky my life's ambition turned out to be just as much fun as I thought it would be.

Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have.