It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. - J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

"One can never have enough socks,"said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

"Do you mean ter tell me,"he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy—this boy!—knows nothin' abou'—about ANYTHING?"Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad."I know some things,"he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

"Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march."

"So light a fire!"Harry choked. "Yes...of course...but there's no wood!"... "HAVE YOU GONE MAD!"Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!"

"Fred, you next,"the plump woman said. "I'm not Fred, I'm George,"said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?""Sorry, George, dear.""Only joking, I am Fred,"said the boy and off he went."