But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.

Whenever he was in company he wanted to get away, and whenever he was alone he wanted company.

It sort of floated toward me,” said Ron, illustrating the movement with his free index finger, “right to my chest, and then — it just went straight through. It was here,” he touched a point close to his heart, “I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew what I was supposed to do, I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and came out on the side of a hill. There was snow everywhere. . . .

If you love something - and there are things that I love - you do want more and more and more of it, but that's not the way to produce good work.

From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.

It unscrews the other way.