I Scared Stephen King.

Those Who Choose Not To Empathize Enable Real Monsters, For Without Ever Committing An Act Of Outright Evil Ourselves We Collude With It Through Our Apathy.

But You're Dead," Said Harry. "oh Yes," Said Dumbledore Matter-of-factly. "then...i'm Dead Too?" "ah," Said Dumbledore, Smiling Still More Broadly. "that Is The Question, Isn't It? On The Whole, Dear Boy, I Think Not.” They Looked At Each Other, The Old Man Still Beaming. "not?" Repeated Harry. "not," Said Dumbledore. "but…" Harry Raised His Hand Instinctively Toward The Lightning Scar. It Did Not Seem To Be There. "but I Should Have Died—i Didn't Defend Myself! I Meant To Let Him Kill Me!" "and That," Said Dumbledore, "will, I Think, Have Made All The Difference.

People Ask Me If There Are Going To Be Stories Of Harry Potter As An Adult. Frankly, If I Wanted To, I Could Keep Writing Stories Until Harry Is A Senior Citizen, But I Don't Know How Many People Would Actually Want To Read About A 65 Year Old Harry Still At Hogwarts Playing Bingo With Ron And Hermione.

I Am Not A Particularly Thick-skinned Person.

You Are Omniscient As Ever, Dumbledore." "oh, No, Merely Friendly With The Local Barmen.