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Sword? Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though. He'll lend you one.
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
Sword
Lend
Havens
Haven
Boys
Though
More quotes by J. K. Rowling
I've wanted to be an author as long as I can remember. English was always my favorite subject at school, so why I went on to do a degree in French is anyone's guess.
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I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!
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I loved writing Dumbledore and he is the epitome of goodness.
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Parents shouldn't leave their kids unless —unless they've got to.
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Ah, well, people can be stupid abou' their pets, said Hagrid wisely.
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What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.
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My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities...like the ability to behave myself.
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At fourteen, you really do start realising that the world is not a safe and protected place or not always.
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Have to? Of course you have to! But only because of you, Harry, won't rest until Voldemort is finished! Think now, for once, if you have never heard of the prophecy! What would you do?
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Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas.
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Her grief was so big and wild it terrified her, like an evil beast that had erupted from under the floorboards.
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Hallows, not Horcruxes.
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I write nearly every day. Some days I write for ten or eleven hours. Other days I might only write for three hours. It really depends on how fast the ideas are coming.
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And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.
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He was going to be armed with his wand - which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood - against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon.
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Nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.
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Well, we were always going to fail that one, said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in the crystal ball, only to look up and realize he had been describing the examiner's reflection.
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It's our choices, more than anything, that show who we really are.
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He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?
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In truth, I never consider the audience for whom I'm writing. I just write what I want to write.
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