“Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,You’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun — ”

“Writing is not a serious business. It’s a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun with it. Ignore the authors who say ‘Oh, my God, what word? Oh, Jesus Christ…’, you know. Now, to hell with that. It’s not work. If it’s work, stop and do something else.”

“I take it you didn’t get the permits...again. (Brian)What was your first clue? (Geary)Oh, I don’t know. That stomping stance as you walked down the street, clenching and unclenching your fists like you’re already choking someone, or maybe it’s that way you’re looking at me like you could claw out my eyes when I haven’t done anything to piss you off. (Brian)Yes, you have. (Geary)And that is? (Brian)You don’t have a gun. (Geary)”

“Oh, alright. You’re no fun,” he sighed. “My name is Razor.” “What kind of a name is that?” “It’s a nickname.” “What kind of a nickname is that?” “Spike, Blade, Fang—all the good, deadly objects were already taken. It was the best I could do.”

“Oh, very good,' interrupted Snape, his lip curling. 'Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent.”

“Harry Potter isn’t real? Oh no! Wait, wait, what do you mean by real? Is this video blog real? Am I real if you can see me and hear me, but only through the internet? Are you real if I can read your comment but I don’t know who you are or what your name is or where you’re from or what you look like or how old you are? I know all of those things about Harry Potter. Maybe Harry Potter’s real and you’re not.”