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Oh well... I'd just been thinking, if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet.
J. K. Rowling
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J. K. Rowling
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: July 31
Author
Executive Producer
Film Producer
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Yate
Gloucestershire
Joanne Jo Murray
Joanne Kathleen Rowling
JK
JKR
Robert Galbraith
Joanne Rowling
Toilet
Thinking
Toilets
Welcome
Died
Humor
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Well
More quotes by J. K. Rowling
You don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!
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Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure.
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If I wasn't a writer, I would be depressed.
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However,' said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, 'you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.
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Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh, said Hagrid. “Harry — yer a wizard.
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Be ruthless about protecting writing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have essential and long overdue meetings on those days.
J. K. Rowling
No, nothing,' said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. 'The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could.
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Being fed, and having a soft bed, and other people being in charge, seemed the most wonderful prospect in the world at that moment.
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Why had he never appreciated the miracle that he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart?
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What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.
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Amazing, how much more difficult it was to extend his arm twelve inches and touch her hand than it was to snatch a speeding Snitch from midair.
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You seem to be drowning twice, said Hermione. Oh, am I? said Ron peering down at his predictions. I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff.
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Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honor.
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Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas.
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Here lies Dobby, a free elf.
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Hermione was screaming again: the sound went through Harry like physical pain.
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Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely, said Auntie Muriel in a rather carrying whisper. But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low-cut. Ginny glanced round, grinning, winked at Harry, then quickly faced the front again.
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It was his own grief turned magically to song.
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It was so good to be held. If only their relationship could be distilled into simple, wordless gestures of comfort. Why had humans ever learned to talk?
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Does it hurt? The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. Dying? Not at all, said Sirius. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.
J. K. Rowling
