The fame thing is interesting because I never wanted to be famous, and I never dreamt I would be famous. You know, my fantasy of being a famous writer, and again there's a slight disconnect with reality which happens a lot with me. I imagined being a famous writer would be like being like Jane Austen.

You can choose, you can go one of two ways. You can be the person I probably admire more and say 'well I don't care and I'll continue not to bother to brush my hair.' Or you can be a weak-willed person like me and think 'oh I'd better get my act together. And maybe my mother was right and I do need to put my hair back and tidy myself up a bit.' So I did tidy myself up a bit. But I do often resent the amount of time that it takes to pull yourself together to go on TV, I really do. If I sound bitter, then that accurately reflects how I feel about the subject.

Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!” “Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!

Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.” “Yeah,” said Harry, “but you, unlike me, are a git.

The mistake ninety-nine percent of humanity made, as far as Fats could see, was being ashamed of what they were; lying about it, trying to be somebody else.