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By laughing you risk looking silly;
by crying you risk being called sentimental;
by entering in contact with someone you risk getting involved;
by showing your feelings you risk showing your true self;
by displaying your ideas and dreams you risk being called naive;
by loving you risk not being requited;
by living you risk dying;
by hoping you risk desperation and
by trying you risk failing.
But you must take risks, for the biggest risk in life is that of not risking anything.
The person who risks nothing is nothing and shall be nothing. They may avoid pain and anxiety, but they can't learn to fell and change and develop and love and live. Chained to their certainties, they're slaves.
They abandoned liberty.
Only he who risks shall be really free.

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It's really important that you understand this. It's about what's in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way life is. Accepting it. It's about being true to it, never mind the pain. Because the pain of not being true to it is far, far greater.

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It is not love, but instinct.

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"So young," he said finally, "to be fighting so many."

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The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.

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Never, I swear before god, who sees and hears us in the solemnity of this night, shall my sword touch yours never shall my eye have for you a look of anger never shall my heart have a pulsation of hatred. We have lived together, hated and loved together, have spilt blood, and perhaps, I will add also, there is between us a tie more powerful than that of friendship-the compact of crime; for we have condemned, judged and executed a human being whom we had not perhaps the right of sending out of the world, although she seemed to belong to hell rather than this world. D'Artagan, I have always loved you as my son. Porthos we have slept ten years side by side; Aramis is your brother as he is mine-for Aramis has loved you as I love you still, As I shall love you always. What is Mazarin to us, when we managed to force the hand and heart of a man like Richelieu?
Who is this or that prince to us when we consolidated the crown on a queen's head?

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The knowledge of different literatures frees one from the tyranny of a few.

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"Ah, well, Snape... Harry Potter, you know... we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned.

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I'm not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak's room, singing "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his voice.

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I had not understood that this was a story about lonely people, about absence and loss, and that that was why I had taken refuge in it until it became confused with my own life, like someone who has escaped into the pages of a novel because those whom he needs to love seem nothing more than ghosts inhabiting the mind of a stranger.