The purpose of this note is to note some favorite quotations from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; I've enjoyed them because of their poetry, their humor, or their pithiness.
While there has been considerable discussion lately of the book's plot, its characters, and its themes, there has been less discussion of its writing style. But it is also enlightening in understanding its appeal to "readers of all ages" to study apposite examples of Rowling's writing style. These short excerpts seem to me to have been unusually well-wrought, but their careful construction could easily be (and generally has been) unremarked and unnoticed, particularly as the tempo of the books is so fast that stylistic nuance is difficult conciously to appreciate. Their felicitousness does not derive from their sense alone but rather from the way in which their sound—their alliteration, their euphony, their assonance, their rhyme, their tempo, their onomatopoeia—evokes their imagery or their imagery evokes their meaning.
We are told in the first chapter that Harry Potter will be "famous—a legend...every child in our world will know his name." If events continue to bear out this prediction, perhaps some of these quotations will become, if not quite as famous as Potter himself, at least minor celebrities.
Page numbers refer to the American paperback edition, (Scholastic, Inc. New York, 1997.)
Some notes are in the HTML source.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. [p.1]
"He'll be famous—a legend ... I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future—there will be books written about Harry—every child in our world will know his name"
The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful new report about the owls. [p. 18]
Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday—and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television—then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. [p. 43]
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewithcing the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death" [p. 137]
They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows...The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. [p. 157]
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. [p. 180]
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. [p. 183]
he saw the fluttering banner high above. [p. 185]
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle [p. 185]
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—and he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must hvae hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—and that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way be Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which —nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on , now, Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" [p. 186]
Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls...[p. 196]
...he turned slowly back to the mirror.There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder—but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?
He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. he reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air—she and the others existed only in the mirror.
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes—her eyes are just like mine Harry though, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green—exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees—Harry was looknig at his family, for the first time in his life.
...he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass...He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness. [p. 208-209]
Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?
The evening air had never smelled so sweet. [p. 225]
with its windows glowing red in the setting sun [p. 225] .
The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. [p. 229]
They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in ust a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor."I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really know me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"
He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered [p. 235-6]
Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate."He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."
From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.
"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed..."Mommy will never forget you"[p. 240]
The forest was black and silent...now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. [p. 251]
They walked on through the dense dark trees. [p. 254]
through the tangled branches of an ancient oak...Something bright white was gleaming on the ground...It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead...so beatiful and sad...its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves...The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid [p. 255-6]
"You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips"Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight. [p. 258]
the rustling of the trees [p. 259]
Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. [p. 259-60]
Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox—points were give for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. [p. 262]
across the bright blue sky.[p. 264]
every distant breath of wind [p. 273]
"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione."...hurry up, I can't breathe!"
"Devil's snare, Devil's Snare...what did Professor Sprout say?" [p. 278]
The gentle drip of water trickling down the walls [p. 278]
weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers [p. 280]
Something gold was glinting just above him [p. 295]
to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure [p. 297]
"not being truly alive, he cannot be killed"..."The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution". [p. 298]
"to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved is gone, will give some protection forever" [p. 299]
It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. [p. 301]
Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me, I've got yeh a present.""It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.
"Nah...anyway, got yeh this..."
It seemed to be a handsome leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.
"Send owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends asking fer phots...knew yeh didn' have any...d'yeh like it?"
Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood. [p. 303-4]
The babble died away. [p. 304]
And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays (" I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was their to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. [p. 307]