I Don't Go Looking For Trouble. Trouble

It’s So Difficult To Describe [depression] To Someone Who’s Never Been There, Because It’s Not Sadness. I Know Sadness. Sadness Is To Cry And To Feel. But It’s That Cold Absence Of Feeling — That Really Hollowed-out Feeling.

And Hermione Was Struggling To Her Feet In The Wreckage, And Three Red-headed Men Were Grouped On The Ground Where The Wall Had Blasted Apart. Harry Grabbed Hermione's Hand As They Staggered And Stumbled Over Stone And Wood. 'no - No - No!' Someone Was Shouting. 'no! Fred! No!' And Percy Was Shaking His Brother, And Ron Was Kneeling Beside Them, And Fred's Eyes Stared Without Seeing, The Ghost Of His Last Laugh Still Etched Upon His Face.

Talent And Intelligence Never Yet Inoculated Anyone Against The Caprice Of The Fates.

So After E, It’s A For ‘acceptable,’ And That’s The Last Pass Grade, Isn’t It?” “yep,” Said Fred, Dunking An Entire Roll In His Soup, Transferring It To His Mouth, And Swallowing It Whole. “then You Get P For ‘poor’ ” — Ron Raised Both His Arms In Mock Celebration — “and D For ‘dreadful.’ ” “and Then T,” George Reminded Him. “t?” Asked Hermione, Looking Appalled. “even Lower Than A D? What On Earth Does That Stand For?” “ ‘troll,’ ” Said George Promptly.

We Must Try Not To Sink Beneath Our Anguish, Harry, But Battle On.