The best quotes by Joanne Kathleen Rowling

Writer, born saturday july 31, 1965 in Yate, Gloucestershire (United Kingdom)
You can find this author also in Novels and in Quotes for Every Occasion.

Posted by: Marianna Mansueto
You don't know what it means! You... none of you... has had to do anything of the sort! Do you think that learning by heart a couple of spells and conjuring them against him, as we do in class is enough? But there is nothing between you and your death other than... your brain, your liver, or something... how can you reason when you know that in a split second you will be assasined, tortured or see your friends die.
Joanne Kathleen Rowling
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    Posted by: Marianna Mansueto
    Neville's childhood had been blighted by Voldemort just as much as Harry's had, but Neville had no idea how close he had come to having Harry's destiny. The prophecy could have referred to either of them, yet, for his own inscrutable reasons, Voldemort had chosen to believe that Harry was the one meant. Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy... Or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save him, as Lily had died for Harry? Surely she would... But what if she had been unable to stand between her son and Voldemort? Would there then have been no "Chosen One" at all? An empty seat where Neville now sat and a scarless Harry who would have been kissed good-bye by his own mother, not Ron's?
    Joanne Kathleen Rowling
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      Posted by: Sarah Tarricone
      But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster's chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.
      Joanne Kathleen Rowling
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        Posted by: Grinch
        Ginny looked up into Harry's face, took a deep breath, and said, "Happy seventeenth."
        "Yeah. . . thanks."
        She was looking at him steadily; he, however, found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.
        "Nice view," he said feebly, pointing toward the window.
        She ignored this. He could not blame her, "I couldn't think what to get you," she said.
        "You didn't have to get me anything." She disregarded this too.
        "I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you."
        He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, she was rarely weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brother must have toughened her up. She took a step closer to him.
        "So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing."
        "I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest."
        "There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair.
        Joanne Kathleen Rowling
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