The word 'impossible' isn't in my dictionary... but I don't really have a dictionary you know?
Sometimes, when I try to understand a person's motives, I play a little game. I assume the worst. What's the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing what they do? Then I ask myself, "How well does that reason explain what they say and what they do?"
It was a confession. Now that I have made it, something seems to have gone out of me. Perhaps one should never put one's worship into words.
Everybody wants to talk. No one wants to do anything.
«Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it». I have always prized my ability to turn a phrase — words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable both of inflicting injury and remedying it. But I would — in this case — amend my original statement to this: Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who most deserve it... Assuming circumstances in the main are favorable to such an outcome, of course.
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You know, sometimes exactly what I want to hear isn't exactly what I want to hear.
There seems to be so much in me I want to say. But it is all so big. I can’t find ways to say what is really in me. Sometimes it seems to me that all the world, all life, everything, had taken up residence inside of me and was clamoring for me to be the spokesman. I feel-oh, I can’t describe it-I feel the bigness of it, but when I speak, I babble like a little child. It is a great task to transmute feeling and sensation into speech, written or spoken, that will, in turn, in him who reads or listens, transmute itself back into the selfsame feeling and sensation. It is a lordly task.