“Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have.”
“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”
“Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike.”
“Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"You called her a liar?"
"You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?"
"Have a biscuit, Potter.”
“You're a prefect? Oh Ronnie! That's everyone in the family!"
"What are Fred and I? Next door neighbors?”
“You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts...but you cannot deny he's got style...”
“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher. There was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head!”
“Why were you lurking under our window?"
"Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our windows, boy?"
"Listening to the news," said Harry in a resigned voice.
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage.
"Listening to the news! Again?"
"Well, it changes every day, you see," said Harry.”
“Youth can not know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.”
“Give her hell from us, Peeves.”
“Hello, Harry" said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."
"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you.”
“But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards.”
“You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”
“From now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'Die, Ron, Die,' I'm chucking them in the bin where they belong.”
“Don’t put your wand there, boy! ... Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!”
“You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them.”
“Ah" said Dumbledore gently, "Yes I thought we might hit that little snag!"
"Snag?" said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. "I see no snag, Dumbledore!"
"Well," said Dumbledore apologetically, "I'm afraid I do."
"Well it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to -- come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course -- but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.”
“According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scars than almost anything else.”
“We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.”
“Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you..."
"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" said Harry sarcastically.”
“Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am.”
“Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?"
Harry considered it for a moment. "Wet," he said truthfully.
Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.
"Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily.
"Oh," said Ron, his smile faded slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"
"Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. "Maybe I am.”
“The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.”
“Did you like question ten, Moony?" asked Sirius as they emerged into the entrance hall.
"Loved it," said Lupin briskly. "Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question."
"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in tones of mock concern.
"Think I did," said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: He's sitting on my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin...”
“Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it.
"Good thinking," said Luna seriously. "It's often infested with nargles.”
“This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this. ”
“By all means continue destroying my possessions. I daresay I have too many.”
“Maybe we tried so hard to be like the Sisterhood because it was easy for them and we wanted it to be easy for us. Because they were lucky and we wanted to be lucky too. They had wonder, and we didn't have any. We looked for the magic, but we didn't fine it. We waited for the magic, but it didn't find us.”
“The world exists for the education of each man. There is no age or state of society, or mode of action in history, to which there is not somewhat corresponding in his life. Everything tends in a most wonderful manner to abbreviate itself and yield its own virtue to him. He should see that he can live all history in his own person. He must sit at home with might and main, and not suffer himself to be bullied by kings or empires, but know that he is greater than all the geography and all the governments of the world . . .”
A stationary sense . . . as, I suppose,
I shall have, till my single body grows
Then I shall start to feel the backward pull
Take over, sickening and masterful —
Some say, desired.
And this must be the prime of life . . . I blink,
As if at pain; for it is pain, to think
Of compensating act and counter-act,
Defeat and counterfeit, makes up, in fact,
My ablest time.”
“Snacks taste better when you’re hungry, but do they ever actually taste bad? I ask you.”
“To the Germans, these Jewish foreigners, so different from the local bourgeois Jews who had, with discipline, allowed themselves t be rounded up and slaughtered, seemed suspect: too quick, too energetic, dirty, tattered, proud, unpredictable, primitive, too "Russian". The Jews found it impossible, and at the same time necessary, to distinguish the headhunters they had eluded and on whom they had taken passionate revenge from these shy, reserved old people, these blond, polite children who looked in at the station doors as if through the bars of the zoo. They aren't the ones, no; but it's their father, their teachers, their sons, themselves yesterday and tomorrow. How to resolve the puzzle? It can't be solved. Leave: as soon as possible. This land, too, is searing under our feet, this neat, trim town, loving order, this sweet bland air of full summer also scorches Leave, leave: we haven't come from the depths of Polessia in order to go to sleep in the Wartesaal of Plauen-am-Elster, and to while away our waiting with group snapshots and the Red Cross soup.”
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