9
" I've decided to call him Norbert,' said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. 'He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?'
'He's lost his marbles,' Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
'Hagrid,' said Harry loudly, 'give it a fortnight and Norbert's going to be as big as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment.
Hagrid bit his lip.
'I- I know I can't jus' dump him, I can't.'
Harry suddenly turned to Ron.
'Charlie,' he said.
'You're losing it too,' said Ron. 'I'm Ron, remember? "
― J.K. Rowling , Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter, #1)
10
" The Hamians!'The centurion‟s voice was little better than a squeak. Julius snorted his disdain.'What about the Hamians? Useless bow-waving women. All they‟re good for is hunting game. There‟s a war on, in case you hadn‟t noticed. We need infantrymen, big lads withspears and shields to strengthen our line. Archers are no bloody use in an infantry cohort.'He raised his meaty fist. 'No, mate, you‟re going to get what‟s coming your way.'The other man gabbled desperately, staring helplessly at the poised fist.'There‟s two centuries of them, two centuries. Take them and the Tungrians and that‟s two hundred and fifty men.'Marcus spoke, having stood quietly in the background so far.'So we could make a century of the best of them, dump the rest on the Second Cohort when we catch up with them and take back the century he sold them in return.'Julius turned his head to look at the younger man, keeping the transit officer clamped inplace with seemingly effortless strength.'Are you mad? There won‟t be a decent man among them. They‟ll be arse-poking,make-up-wearing faggots, the lot of them. All those easterners are, it‟s in the blood. They‟ll mince round the camp holding hands and tossing each other off in the bathhouse. "
19
" Compared to bipolar's magic, reality seems a raw deal. It's not just the boredom that makes recovery so difficult, it's the slow dawning pain that comes with sanity - the realization of illnesss, the humiliating scenes, the blown money and friendships and confidence. Depression seems almost inevitable. The pendulum swings back from transcendence in shards, a bloody, dangerous mess. Crazy high is better than crazy low. So we gamble, dump the pills, and stick it to the control freaks and doctors. They don't understand, we say. They just don't get it. They'll never be artists. "
― , Scattershot: My Bipolar Family