“Do you—do you think I want to—do you think I give a—I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY!" Harry roared."You will," said Dumbledore sadly. "Because you are not nearly as mad at me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it.”

“I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them.”“I didn’t want —”“— to worry or frighten them?” said Dumbledore, surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away.”

“Because I care so much about what you think, my hiding has everything to do with you. I desperately want to manage your opinion of me. Nearly anything I do is to convince you I am good.”

“You'll do what you think you want to do, or what you think you ought to do. If you're very lucky, luckier than anybody I know, the two will coincide.”

“How do you know what a rock star feels like, Ada May? Have you ever been a rock star? I don't think so,' Beth Ann said.'I was just guessing.''Well, not me. I'm not saying I feel like something when I don't have any idea what that feels like and neither do you.”

“I don't think you get to be mad at someone unless they come through for you. I don't think you have that luxury. I think you think you can be mad, but really you're just doing something else.""What's that?" "Waiting.”