I've Laid My Friends Bare.

You Could Tie My Hands To My Sides, I Suppose, But I Have To Write. For My Own Mental Health, I Need To Write.

Madam Pince, Our Librarian, Tells Me That It Is 'pawed About, Dribbled On, And Generally Maltreated' Nearly Everyday - A High Compliment For Any Book.

Be Ruthless About Protecting Writing Days, I.e., Do Not Cave In To Endless Requests To Have "essential" And "long Overdue" Meetings On Those Days. The Funny Thing Is That, Although Writing Has Been My Actual Job For Several Years Now, I Still Seem To Have To Fight For Time In Which To Do It. 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. I Must Therefore Guard The Time Allotted To Writing As A Hungarian Horntail Guards Its Firstborn Egg.

Ah, Harry, How Often This Happens, Even Between The Best Of Friends! Each Of Us Believes That What He Has To Say Is Much More Important Than Anything The Other Might Have To Contribute!

The Elf’s Eyes Found Him, And His Lips Trembled With The Effort To Form Words. ‘harry... Potter...’ And Then With A Little Shudder The Elf Became Quite Still, And His Eyes Were Nothing More Than Great, Glassy Orbs Sprinkled With Light From The Stars They Could Not See.