Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of heads. "Nobility of spirit"..."intellectual contribution"..."greatness of heart"...It did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had known him. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's idea of a few words, "nitwit," "oddment," "blubber," and "tweak," and again had to suppress a grin.

I'm going to keep going until I succeed — or die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years.

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.

Sometimes ideas just come to me. Other times I have to sweat and almost bleed to make ideas come. It's a mysterious process, but I hope I never find out exactly how it works.

The thing about the 600 words, I mean some day, you can do a very, very, very hard day's work and not write a word, just revising, or you would scribble a few words.

I’m not a freak. That’s a horrible thing to say." "That’s where you’re going. A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are..." "You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote the headmaster and begged him to take you.

I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I had never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamberpots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.