There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione's arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
Without cunning, there is no innovation. Without ambition, there is no accomplishment.
The fame thing is interesting because I never wanted to be famous, and I never dreamt I would be famous.
I would advise you to buy it, because if you read too long without handing over money you will find yourself the object of the Thief's Curse.
She often felt lonely and drained these days, shuttling between her husband and son, who seemed to exist entirely independently, as alien to each other as landlord and lodger.
And then she was kissing him as she never had before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion, better than firewhiskey; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair...