"Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.
" After all this time? "
" Always, "said Snape."
Thirty: the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair.
I have owed you this letter for a very long time, but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.
People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar.
A sad soul can kill you quicker than a germ.
Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child's loss of a doll and a king's loss of a crown are events of the same size.
I can't win. Love is Russian roulette for me. No one loves the real me inside. They're all in love with my fame, my stardom.
I fall in love far too quickly and end up getting hurt all the time. I've got scars all over. But I can't help myself because basically I'm a softie I have this hard, macho shell, which I project on stage but there's a much softer side. Too, which melts like butter.
Suffering, how divine it is, how misunderstood! We owe to it all that is good in us, all that gives value to life; we owe to it pity, we owe to it courage, we owe to it all the virtues.
So therefore I dedicate myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open. This affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.