She Can't Keep Writing About What A

You Know, I Sometimes Think We Sort Too Soon.

As Harry And Ron Rounded The Clump Of Trees Behind Which Harry Had First Heard The Dragons Roar, A Witch Leapt Out From Behind Them. It Was Rita Skeeter. She Was Wearing Acid-green Robes Today; The Quick-quotes Quill In Her Hand Blended Perfectly Against Them. "congratulations, Harry!' She Said Beaming At Him. "i Wonder If You Could Give Me A Quick Word? How You Felt Facing That Dragon? How Do You Feel Now About The Fairness Of The Scoring?" "yeah, You Can Have A Word," Said Harry Savagely. "goodbye!

Imagination Is Not Only The Uniquely Human Capacity To Envision That Which Is Not, And Therefore The Fount Of All Invention And Innovation. In Its Arguably Most Transformative And Revelatory Capacity, It Is The Power To That Enables Us To Empathize With Humans Whose Experiences We Have Never Shared.

Some People Do Not Seem To Grasp That I Still Have To Sit Down In Peace And Write The Books, Apparently Believing That They Pop Up Like Mushrooms Without My Connivance.

His Eyes Are As Green As A Fresh Pickled Toad, His Hair Is As Dark As A Blackboard. I Wish He Was Mine, He's Really Divine, The Hero Who Conquered The Dark Lord.