Luck Can Only Get You So Far.

The Mind Is Not A Book, To Be Opened At Will And Examined At Leisure. Thoughts Are Not Etched On The Inside Of Skulls, To Be Perused By An Invader. The Mind Is A Complex And Many-layered Thing.

The Death Eaters Can't All Be Pure-blood, There Aren't Enough Pure-blood Wizards Left," Said Hermione Stubbornly. "i Expect Most Of Them Are Half-bloods Pretending To Be Pure. It's Only Muggle-borns They Hate, They'd Be Quite Happy To Let You And Ron Join Up" "there Is No Way They'd Let Me Be A Death Eater!" Said Ron Indignantly...."my Whole Family Are Blood Traitors! That's As Bad As Muggle-borns To Death Eaters!" "and They'd Love To Have Me," Said Harry Sarcastically. "we'd Be Best Pals If They Didn't Keep Trying To Do Me In.

Slowly, Very Slowly, He Sat Up, And As He Did So He Felt More Alive, And More Aware Of His Own Living Body Than Ever Before. Why Had He Never Appreciated What A Miracle He Was, Brain And Nerve And Bounding Heart? It Would All Be Gone...or At Least, He Would Be Gone From It. His Breath Came Slow And Deep, And His Mouth And Throat Were Completely Dry, But So Were His Eyes.

If You Love Something - And There Are Things That I Love - You Do Want More And More And More Of It, But That's Not The Way To Produce Good Work.

You Don't Have Sex Near Unicorns. It's An Ironclad Rule. It's Tacky.