B Potter Quotes

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To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry. 'S-so sweet, Dudders...' she sobbed into his massive chest. 'S-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you...' 'But he hadn't said thank you at all!' said Hestia indignantly. 'He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!' 'Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like "I love you.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s reach. “YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B —” Professor McGonagall didn’t even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy’s direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Harry Potter, #3))
How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can’t be B — U — M —” “No, it isn’t,” said Hermione. “And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin O — R — G either.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
Okay, so either (a) I just teleported somewhere else entirely (b) they can fold space like no one's business or (c) they are simply ignoring all the rules.
Eliezer Yudkowsky (Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality)
When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&B—first left on the Dark Zone side—and disappears, I melt down in a fit of the giggles. I toss a rock at the spot where he vanished. It bounces off the brick and clatters to the cobblestone. I'm feeling twenty shades of Harry Potter's train station, especially when he pokes his head out of the wall and says impatiently, "Come on, lass. This is hardly my favorite place to be.
Karen Marie Moning (Iced (Fever, #6))
The Seeker—in real life, as well as in Rowling’s Potter series and its Quidditch game—is he or she who takes that sense of significance more seriously than anything else. The Seeker is therefore the person who is playing the game that everyone else is playing (and who is disciplined and expert at the game), but who is also playing an additional, higher-order game: the pursuit of what is of primary significance
Jordan B. Peterson (Beyond Order: 12 More Rules For Life)
Frigideiro! " said Hermione again from the desk next to him. Her water was solid ice and there were white crystals forming on the rim of her glass. She seemed to be totally intent on her own work and not at all conscious of the other students staring at her with hateful eyes, which was either (a) dangerously oblivious of her or (b) a perfectly honed performance rising to the level of fine art.
Eliezer Yudkowsky (Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality)
Without introverts, the world would be devoid of: the theory of gravity the theory of relativity W. B. Yeats’s “The Second Coming” Chopin’s nocturnes Proust’s In Search of Lost Time Peter Pan Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm The Cat in the Hat Charlie Brown Schindler’s List, E.T., and Close Encounters of the Third Kind Google Harry Potter *
Susan Cain (Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking)
Though thirty spokes may form the wheel, it is the hole within the hub which gives the wheel utility. It is not the clay the potter throws, which gives the pot its usefulness, but the space within the shape, from which the pot is made. Without a door, the room cannot be entered, and without its windows it is dark Such is the utility of non-existence.212
Jordan B. Peterson (12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos)
Though thirty spokes may form the wheel, it is the hole within the hub which gives the wheel utility. It is not the clay the potter throws, which gives the pot its usefulness, but the space within the shape, from which the pot is made. Without a door, the room cannot be entered, and without its windows it is dark Such is the utility of non-existence.212 A
Jordan B. Peterson (12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos)
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D. Dark
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
R.A.B.,’ whispered Ron, ‘but who was that?
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
what turns you on? Huge, beautiful bathtubs at a B and B Watching a partner put the kids to bed “Slash fiction” of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy A fantasy about having sex in public Actually having sex in public
Emily Nagoski (Come as You Are: The Surprising New Science that Will Transform Your Sex Life)
It’s obvious,’ said Ron. ‘You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know.’ He put on a high voice, ‘Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong …’ ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Hermione,
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter, #1))
And so you go out with a girl and you’re driving… “So what are you reading right now?” “Well, I’m not much of a reader…” *screeching car brakes* “I’M NOT MUCH OF A DINNER BUYER! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” “But we’re lost in the stucco sprawl of L.A.” “I DON’T CARE!” But every once in a while you meet the one who reads… “So what are you reading?” he asked (you know, the date killer question)…“So what are you reading?” “Well I’m right in the middle of a book right now--” Oh my god, she’s in the middle of a book. Be still my beating heart. “So what are you reading?” he asked expectantly, nerves tingling, body aquiver “Well, I’m in the middle of this Harry Potter b—” *screeching car brakes* “DON’T BE AN ADULT WOMAN WHO READS A FUCKING CHILDREN’S BOOK IN MY CAR, GET THE FUCK OUT!
Henry Rollins
His d-diary!” Ginny sobbed. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year —” “Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Harry Potter, #2))
THE BEET IS THE MOST INTENSE of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious. Slavic peoples get their physical characteristics from potatoes, their smoldering inquietude from radishes, their seriousness from beets. The beet is the melancholy vegetable, the one most willing to suffer. You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip . . . The beet is the murderer returned to the scene of the crime. The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies. The beet was Rasputin's favorite vegetable. You could see it in his eyes. In Europe there is grown widely a large beet they call the mangel-wurzel. Perhaps it is mangel-wurzel that we see in Rasputin. Certainly there is mangel-wurzel in the music of Wagner, although it is another composer whose name begins, B-e-e-t——. Of course, there are white beets, beets that ooze sugar water instead of blood, but it is the red beet with which we are concerned; the variety that blushes and swells like a hemorrhoid, a hemorrhoid for which there is no cure. (Actually, there is one remedy: commission a potter to make you a ceramic asshole—and when you aren't sitting on it, you can use it as a bowl for borscht.) An old Ukrainian proverb warns, “A tale that begins with a beet will end with the devil.” That is a risk we have to take.
Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo Big Nate series by Lincoln Peirce The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Book Thief  by Markus Zusak Brian’s Hunt by Gary Paulsen Brian’s Winter by Gary Paulsen Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis The Call of the Wild by Jack London The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis Diary of a Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury The Giver by Lois Lowry Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling Hatchet by Gary Paulsen The High King (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien Holes by Louis Sachar The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins I Am LeBron James by Grace Norwich I Am Stephen Curry by Jon Fishman Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson LeBron’s Dream Team: How Five Friends Made History by LeBron James and Buzz Bissinger The Lightning Thief  (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle Number the Stars by Lois Lowry The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton The River by Gary Paulsen The Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury Star Wars Expanded Universe novels (written by many authors) Star Wars series (written by many authors) The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann D. Wyss Tales from a Not-So-Graceful Ice Princess (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renée Russell Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt Under the Blood-Red Sun by Graham Salisbury The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
Andrew Clements (The Losers Club)
How d’you spell “belligerent”?’ said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. ‘It can’t be B – U – M –’ ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Hermione, pulling Ron’s essay towards her. ‘And “augury” doesn’t begin O – R – G either. What kind of quill are you using?’ ‘It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Checking ones … but I think the charm must be wearing off …’ ‘Yes, it must,’ said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, ‘because we were asked how we’d deal with Dementors, not “Dugbogs”, and I don’t remember you changing your name to “Roonil Wazlib”, either.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
[Harry Potter]'s in a battle with Satan himself, obviously. [...] And she has an unbelievable profound mythological imagination, and the thing that's so fascinating about all of that is that because her mythological imagination is spot on, she captivated the entire globe, and produced this immense storehouse of wealth and dominated the entertainment landscape for a decade, and you know people don't take that seriously. But it's a great mystery to watch, and absolutely they should. It's [phenomenal] you know, anything that grips people's attention like that is obviously worth paying attention to.
Jordan B. Peterson
Some of our greatest ideas, art, and inventions—from the theory of evolution to van Gogh’s sunflowers to the personal computer—came from quiet and cerebral people who knew how to tune in to their inner worlds and the treasures to be found there. Without introverts, the world would be devoid of: the theory of gravity the theory of relativity W. B. Yeats’s “The Second Coming” Chopin’s nocturnes Proust’s In Search of Lost Time Peter Pan Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm The Cat in the Hat Charlie Brown Schindler’s List, E.T., and Close Encounters of the Third Kind Google Harry Potter* As
Susan Cain (Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking)
Now come on, we’re off.” He marched out of the room. They heard the front door open, but Dudley did not move and after a few faltering steps Aunt Petunia stopped too. “What now?” barked Uncle Vernon, reappearing in the doorway. It seemed that Dudley was struggling with concepts too difficult to put into words. After several moments of apparently painful internal struggle he said, “But where’s he going to go?” Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other. It was clear that Dudley was frightening them. Hestia Jones broke the silence. “But…surely you know where your nephew is going?” she asked, looking bewildered. “Certainly we know,” said Vernon Dursley. “He’s off with some of your lot, isn’t he? Right, Dudley, let’s get in the car, you heard the man, we’re in a hurry.” Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow. “Off with some of our lot?” Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met this attitude before: Witches and wizards seemed stunned that his closest living relatives took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter. “It’s fine,” Harry assured her. “It doesn’t matter, honestly.” “Doesn’t matter?” repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously. “Don’t these people realize what you’ve been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?” “Er--no, they don’t,” said Harry. “They think I’m a waste of space, actually, but I’m used to--” “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” If Harry had not seen Dudley’s lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself. “Well…er…thanks, Dudley.” Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, “You saved my life.” “Not really,” said Harry. “It was your soul the dementor would have taken…” He looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact during this summer or last, as Harry had come back to Privet Drive so briefly and kept to his room so much. It now dawned on Harry, however, that the cup of cold tea on which he had trodden that morning might not have been a booby trap at all. Although rather touched, he was nevertheless quite relieved that Dudley appeared to have exhausted his ability to express his feelings. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into scarlet-faced silence. Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry. “S-so sweet, Dudders…” she sobbed into his massive chest. “S-such a lovely b-boy…s-saying thank you…” “But he hasn’t said thank you at all!” said Hestia indignantly. “He only said he didn’t think Harry was a waste of space!” “Yeah, but coming from Dudley that’s like ‘I love you,’” said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
PSALM 2 rWhy do sthe nations rage [1] and the peoples plot in vain? 2 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the LORD and against his  tAnointed, saying, 3 “Let us  uburst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.” 4 He who  vsits in the heavens  wlaughs; the Lord holds them in derision. 5 Then he will speak to them in his  xwrath, and terrify them in his fury, saying, 6 “As for me, I have  yset my King on zZion, my aholy hill.” 7 I will tell of the decree: The LORD said to me,  b“You are my Son; today I have begotten you. 8 Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and  cthe ends of the earth your possession. 9 You shall  dbreak [2] them with  ea rod of iron and dash them in pieces like  fa potter’s vessel.” 10 Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth. 11  gServe the LORD with  hfear, and irejoice with htrembling. 12 jKiss kthe Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his  lwrath is quickly kindled. mBlessed are all who take refuge
Anonymous (The Holy Bible: English Standard Version)
Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. “Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will — revive — your master.” He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened — he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail’s anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn’t stand to look . . . but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry’s closed eyelids. . . . Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail’s anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him. “B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe.” Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly. . . . Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail’s remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry’s cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry’s blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Harry Potter, #4))
I prodded him in the chest with a finger and said, “Look here, smart mouth, I’m getting pretty sick of you already. If you know what’s best for you, keep your trap shut and do as I tell you. I still haven’t forgotten how you pushed my friend into that corpse. So unless you want to end up like that body in the underpass, do yourself a favour and keep out of my face, okay?” “Whatever you say, boss. You’re the boss, boss,” Drake said. “See, there you go again!” I snapped at him. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, boss,” Drake said. “You even say boss like a wise arse,” I shot back at him. “I don’t know what you mean b-” Drake started again. “Did I say you had to call me boss?” “It’s just that I thought…” “Don’t think!” I barked. “Just do as I say and we’ll get along just fine.” “Whatever you say,” Drake said. I glanced at Madison and she was smiling. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Nothing,” she smiled back. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realise that I was some sort of freaking comedian. Let’s see if you think it’s so funny when another one of those dead kids shows up. Jesus, no wonder you amateurs haven’t caught this piece of scum yet – you’re probably all too busy sitting round cracking jokes and taking the piss to do any real police work.” “You are funny though,” she half-laughed. “It’s just that when you get angry, your jaw goes all tense and your nostrils flare out at the sides.” “Oh yeah, how very amusing,” I remarked. “I think you two clowns are funny – not ha-ha funny – but fucked-in-the-head funny! Now, if you two have quite finished doing your Laurel and Hardy impersonations, we’ve got a killer to catch!
Tim O'Rourke (Wolf House - Potter's Story (Kiera Hudson Series One #4.5))
anchorages. As the war progressed, the advanced
E.B. Potter (The Great Sea War: The Story Of Naval Action In World War II)
Half the f-f-family’s in the Order, it’ll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this. . . . and
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
If there is anything bigger than the state of Texas, it is the Pacific Ocean. --Admiral Chester W. Nimitz
E.B. Potter (Nimitz)
the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
Stones in His Pockets B. David Copperfield C. Blood Brothers D. Romeo and Juliet
Bob Tilly (The Updated Ultimate Unofficial Harry Potter (400 Questions) Quiz Book: Fully Updates Answers)
CHEATING SCUM!’ Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s reach. ‘YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B–
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Harry Potter, #3))
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
A. P. W. B. D.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
His d-diary!’ Ginny sobbed. ‘I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year –
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Harry Potter, #2))
It’s obvious,’ said Ron. ‘You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know.’ He put on a high voice, ‘Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong …’ ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape. ‘And
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter, #1))
Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter #1))
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. ‘Professor Quirrell!’ said Hagrid. ‘Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.’ ‘P-P-Potter,’ stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, ‘c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.’ ‘What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?’ ‘D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts,’ muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it. ‘N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?’ He laughed nervously. ‘You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.’ He looked terrified at the very thought.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter, #1))
TODAY'S SPECIAL THE BEET IS THE MOST INTENSE of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious. Slavic peoples get their physical characteristics from potatoes, their smoldering inquietude from radishes, their seriousness from beets. The beet is the melancholy vegetable, the one most willing to suffer. You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip . . . The beet is the murderer returned to the scene of the crime. The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies. The beet was Rasputin's favorite vegetable. You could see it in his eyes. In Europe there is grown widely a large beet they call the mangel-wurzel. Perhaps it is mangel-wurzel that we see in Rasputin. Certainly there is mangel-wurzel in the music of Wagner, although it is another composer whose name begins, B-e-e-t——. Of course, there are white beets, beets that ooze sugar water instead of blood, but it is the red beet with which we are concerned; the variety that blushes and swells like a hemorrhoid, a hemorrhoid for which there is no cure. (Actually, there is one remedy: commission a potter to make you a ceramic asshole—and when you aren't sitting on it, you can use it as a bowl for borscht.) An old Ukrainian proverb warns, “A tale that begins with a beet will end with the devil.” That is a risk we have to take.
Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
To the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
What is it about the Greek character that has allowed this complex culture to thrive for millennia? The Greek Isles are home to an enduring, persevering people with a strong work ethic. Proud, patriotic, devout, and insular, these hardy seafarers are the inheritors of working methods that are centuries old. On any given day, fishermen launch their bots at dawn in search of octopi, cuttlefish, sponges, and other gifts of the ocean. Widows clad in black dresses and veils shop the local produce markets and gather in groups of two and three to share stories. Artisans stich decorative embroidery to adorn traditional costumes. Glassblowers, goldsmiths, and potters continue the work of their ancient ancestors, ultimately displaying their wares in shops along the waterfronts. The Greeks’ dedication to time-honored occupations and hard work is harmoniously complemented by their love of dance, song, food, and games. Some of the earliest works of art from the Greek Isles--including Minoan paintings from the second millennium B.C.E.--depict the central, day-to-day role of dance, and music. Today, life is still lived in common, and the old ways often survive in a deep separation between the worlds of women and men. In the more rural areas, dancing and drinking are--officially at least--reserved for men, as the women watch from windows and doorways before returning to their tasks. At seaside tavernas throughout the Greek Isles, old men sip raki, a popular aniseed-flavored liqueur, while playing cards or backgammon under grape pergolas that in late summer are heavy with ripe fruit. Woven into this love of pleasure, however, are strands of superstition and circumspection. For centuries, Greek artisans have crafted the lovely blue and black glass “eyes” that many wear as amulets to ward off evil spirits. They are given as baby and housewarming gifts, and are thought to bring good luck and protect their wearers from the evil eye. Many Greeks carry loops of wooden or glass beads--so-called “worry beads”--for the same purpose. Elderly women take pride in their ability to tell fortunes from the black grounds left behind in a cup of coffee.
Laura Brooks (Greek Isles (Timeless Places))
The word which came to Jer-e-mi′-ah from the Lord, saying, 2 Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. 3 Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. 4 And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. 5 Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying, 6 O house of Is′-ra-el, a cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, b as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Is′-ra-el. 7 At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to c pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy it, 8 d If that nation, against whom I have pronounced, turn from their evil, e I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them. 9 And at what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to build and to plant it, 10 If it do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then I will repent of the good, wherewith I said I would benefit them.
Anonymous (KJV Study Bible)
How d’you spell “belligerent”?’ said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. ‘It can’t be B – U – M –’ ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Hermione, pulling Ron’s essay towards her. ‘And “augury” doesn’t begin O – R – G either. What kind of quill are you using?’ ‘It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Checking ones … but I think the charm must be wearing off …’ ‘Yes, it must,’ said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, ‘because we were asked how we’d deal with Dementors, not “Dugbogs”, and I don’t remember you changing your name to “Roonil Wazlib”,
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
«Naturalmente non importa il suo aspetto... non f-fa niente... ma era un b-bambino così carino... sempre stato un bel ragazzo... e s-stava per sposarsi!» «Cosa vuol dire?» gridò Fleur all’improvviso. «Perché disce che stava per sposarsi?» La signora Weasley alzò il viso coperto di lacrime, stupita. «Be’... solo che...» «Ponsa che Bill non mi vuole più?» continuò Fleur. «Ponsa che per colpa di quei morsi scesserà di amarmi?» «No, non volevo dire...» «E invesce mi amerà!» esclamò Fleur, ergendosi in tutta la sua altezza e gettando indietro la lunga chioma argentea. «Sci vuol altro che un uomo lupo per impedir a Bill di amarmi!» «Be’, sì, ne sono certa» balbettò la signora Weasley, «ma pensavo che forse... visto come... come lui...» «Ponsa che io non lo volio più? O forse lo spera?» incalzò Fleur, le narici dilatate. «Cosa importa il suo aspetto? Io sono abbastonsa bella per tutti e due! Tutte quelle scicatrisci sono il segno del courage di mio marito! Fascio io!» aggiunse con forza, spingendo da parte la signora Weasley e strappandole di mano l’unguento. La signora Weasley si appoggiò al marito e guardò Fleur curare le ferite di Bill con un’espressione assai curiosa. Nessuno disse nulla; Harry non osò muoversi. Come tutti gli altri, stava aspettando l’esplosione. «La nostra prozia Muriel» esordì la signora Weasley dopo una lunga pausa, «ha un diadema molto bello, fatto dai goblin, e sono sicura che te lo presterà per le nozze. È molto affezionata a Bill, sai, e il diadema starà benissimo coi tuoi capelli». «Grazie» ribatté Fleur, rigida. «Sono scerta che sarà delisioso». E poi – Harry non capì come era successo – le due donne si stavano abbracciando, in lacrime.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn’s memory was the most important thing to him now. “I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, more loudly. “There’s only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, which is illegal —” “Yeah, I know that, thanks,” said Harry, not looking up from the book. “That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell. . . .” “You’re going about it the wrong way,” said Hermione. “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that —” “How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can’t be B — U — M —” “No, it isn’t,” said Hermione, pulling Ron’s essay toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin O — R — G either. What kind of quill are you using?
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6))
D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” He laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Harry Potter, #1))
Yo mama is so hairy… Harry Potter got jealous.
Johnny B. Laughing (Yo Mama Jokes Bible: 350+ Funny & Hilarious Yo Mama Jokes)
We settled this, Anita. The . . . ones who can’t be named—” He glared at me. “I really hate that we can’t even say their names out loud. It feels like we’re in a Harry Potter book talking about He-Who-Must-Not-B e-Name d.
Laurell K. Hamilton (Hit List (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, #20))
Someone said to me," Make a book title digestible." I’ll start: Curry Potter and the Sorcerer's Sauce.
Aron Micko H.B