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

“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?”

“Excellent, I think I see a few veela cousins,” said George, craning his neck for a better look. “They’ll need help understanding our English customs, I’ll look after them. . . .”“Not so fast, Your Holeyness,” said Fred, and darting past the gaggle of middle-aged witches heading the procession, he said, “Here — permettez-moi to assister vous,” to a pair of pretty French girls, who giggled and allowed him to escort them inside. George was left to deal with the middle-aged witches.”

“You have to be free to fail in this world.”

“You should have told her differently,' said Hermione, still with that maddeningly patient air. 'You should have said it was really annoying, but I'd made you promise to come along to the Three Broomsticks, and you really didn't want to go, you'd much rather spend the whole day with her, but unfortunately you thought you really ought to meet me and would she please, please come along with you, and hopefully you'd be able to get away more quickly? And it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think I am too,' Hermione added as an afterthought.'But I don't think you're ugly,' said Harry, bemused.Hermione laughed.”

“There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—”

“Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it.”