Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens.
It was important Dumbledore said, to fight and fight again, and to continue fighting, for only that way could evil be kept at bay, even if it couldn't be completely irradicates.
The law of the wise teddy bear says: it's better a good book at the loo than a shitty book in the living room.
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.
Being able to fall asleep when one is tired and being able to let off a weight that has been lugged for a long time, is a delight, a marvellous fact. Since we dug our grave I have been more delighted and satisfied than how I had ever been in years.
Slow and steady wins the race, but who stops doesn't go in front.
Even just imagining your way of talking calms me. And makes me happy. It runs through my body like medicine, making you gurgle within me. Don't stop. Don't ever stop.
I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.
I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.
Se wondered if the moment would ever arrive in her life where she wouldn't have thought of him,, she wouldn't have heard him talking in her mind, she wouldn't have relived every moment spent with him, she wouldn't have desired his voice, his hands, his love. She never thought how it would have been like to love someone that much; of all the things that had disconcerted her in her adventures, this one was the most disconcerting. She thought that the tenderness he had left in her heart was like a bruise that would've never left, but that she would have treasured for ever.