J. K. Rowling
J. K. Rowling
Joanne "Jo" Rowling, OBE, FRSL, pen names J. K. Rowling and Robert Galbraith, is a British novelist, screenwriter and film producer best known as the author of the Harry Potter fantasy series. The books have gained worldwide attention, won multiple awards, and sold more than 400 million copies. They have become the best-selling book series in history and been the basis for a series of films which is the second highest-grossing film series in history. Rowling had overall approval on the...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth31 July 1965
CityYate, England
I think that emotionally, I've probably felt a little bit more balanced when I started writing again.
Every writer prefers good reviews over bad ones, and every writer wants to have lots of readers. But if it doesn't happen, that's fine too. Perhaps I won't throw a party then; I'll simply go home and keep writing.
I like the distinction. It enables me to have more easygoing encounters in my private life.
I'm sure that I'll never have another success like Harry Potter for the rest of my life, no matter how many books I write, and no matter whether they're good or bad.
but the idea of the Dark Lord in possesion of the Deathstick is, I must admit, formidable.
Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith. "Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, "why don't you shut your mouth?" "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said. "That's not what he said," said Fred Weasley. "Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags. "Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.
Maybe a man in a million could unite the Hallows, Harry. I was fit only to possess the meanest of them, the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand, and not to boast of it, and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and to use it, because I took it, not for gain, but to save others from it.
The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters.
And what in the name of Merlin’s most baggy Y Fronts was that about?
Promise me you’ll look after yourself … stay out of trouble …’ ‘I always do, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry. ‘I like a quiet life, you know me.
But Death was cunning.
Sirius — it’s me . . . it’s Peter . . . your friend . . . you wouldn’t . . .” Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. “There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” said Black.
Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” Harry roared.
He [Uncle Vernon] held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley’s letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys’ address in minute writing. “She did put enough stamps on, then,” said Harry, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley’s was a mistake anyone could make.