Magic comes from what is inside you. It is a part of you. You can't weave together a spell that you don't beleive in.

Don't call me a dinosaur. It isn't fair to the dinosaurs. What did a dinosaur ever do to you?

My brother the vampire, whose kiss was a slow death sentence, had a stable and loving relationship with a girl who was crazy about him. By contrast, I could barely talk to a woman, at least about anything pertaining to a relationship. Given that my only long-term girlfriends had faked their own death, died, and broken free of enslaving enchantments to end the relationship, the empirical evidence seemed to indicate that he knew something I didn't. Keep your life tonight, Harry. Complicate it tomorrow.

The characters within a book were, from a certain point of view, identical on some fundamental level ‒ there weren't any images of them, no physical tangibility whatsoever. They were pictures in the reader's head, constructs of imagination and ideas, given shape by the writer's work and skill and the reader's imagination. Parents, of a sort.

Sullen monosyllabism, a sure sign of sleep deprivation.

Here's where I ask why don't you spend your time doing something safer and more boring. Like maybe administering suppositories to rabid gorillas.

If I need you I'll give you a signal.' What signal?" I'll imitate the scream of a terrified little girl