“There is no fire like passion, there is no shark like hatred, there is no snare like folly, there is no torrent like greed.”

“All good looks are a snare. They are a snare that every sensible man would like to be caught in.”

“Everything drifts. Everything is slowly swirling, philosophies tangled with the grocery lists, unreal-real anxieties like rose thorns waiting to tear the uncertain flesh, nonentities of thoughts floating like plankton, green and orange particles, seaweed -- lots of that, dark purple and waving, sharks with fins like cutlasses, herself held underwater by her hair, snared around auburn-rusted anchor chains.”

“Sharks are workers like the critics remoras.”

“Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare . . . what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp —''So light a fire!' Harry choked.'Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!' Hermoine cried, wringing her hands.'HAVE YOU GONE MAD?' Ron bellowed. 'ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?”

“Live every week like it's shark week.”