Quote

The narrow path had opened up suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

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
High
Edges
Towers
Turrets
Black
Suddenly
Windows
Atop
Many
Sky
Lakes
Perched
Great
Mountain
Narrow
Starry
Window
Opened
Sparkling
Side
Onto
Castle
Path
Edge
Castles
Sides
Vast
Lake

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I'm happy to talk in general themes, but when we get down to specifics about my family, for me that's always been off-limits.
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Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world.
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Course Dumbledore trusts you,” growled Moody. “He’s a trusting man, isn’t he? Believes in second chances. But me — I say there are spots that don’t come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d’you know what I mean?
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Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. Love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves it's own mark. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.
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This was their first encounter with the fact that a full stomach meant good spirits an empty one, bickering and gloom.
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To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B
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I don't know who Maxime thinks she's kidding. If Hagrid's half-giant, she definitely is. Big bones... the only thing that's got bigger bones than her is a dinosaur.
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He had fought back with every weapon in his arsenal, being alternatively obtuse, evasive and pedantic, for it was wonderful how you could obscure an emotional issue by appearing to seek precision.
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Dumbledore raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.
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If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.
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No story lives unless someone wants to listen. So thank you, all of you.
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Help only comes to those who ask for it.
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There is plenty of ambitious competition and hypocrisy in the middle class, which makes it a rather fertile environment for a writer.
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Depression isn't just being a bit sad. It's feeling nothing. It's not wanting to be alive anymore.
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Poverty entails fear and stress and sometimes depression. It meets a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts that is something on which to pride yourself but poverty itself is romanticized by fools.
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According to Nietzche, said a sharp new voice, making them all jump, philosophy is the biography of the philosopher.
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But you're dead,' said Harry. 'Oh, yes,' said Dumbledore matter-of-factly. 'Then... am I dead too?' 'Ah,' said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. 'That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not.
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The presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that what they were doing was right.
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Crackers!” said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly.
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Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare . . . what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp —” “So light a fire!” Harry choked. “Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermoine cried, wringing her hands. “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?
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