“Holey? You have the the whole world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?”

“If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do:You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.And you must sew my holey socks,And soothe my troubled mind,And develop the knack for scratching my back,And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,And when it is hailing and snowingYou must shovel the walk...and be still when I talk,And-hey-where are you going?”

“How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs. Weasley.George's fingers groped for the side of his head."Saintlike," he murmured."What's wrong with him?" croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?""Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see...I'm HOLEY, Fred, geddit?”

“What Vera doesn’t know is: I’d kill to be a pickle on her Big Mac—ground to relish between her perfect white teeth.I’d kill to be a bug she squishes with her holey Army-issue combat boot.But she’s too good for me. She always was.”

“A rule of thumb with humor; if you worry that you might be going too far, you have already not gone far enough. If everybody laughs, you have failed.”

“Advice: Don’t wait until someone you have issues with — especially someone you’re related to — gets shot before you work it out.”