Harry

“And the rest of the story?" he asked, trying to force a smile. "Is that like everything else in POT, on a need-to-know basis?"
She nodded.
The waiter came to their table, but must have sensed his timing was off and went away again.
She opened her mouth to say something. Harry could see that she was on the verge of tears. She bit her lower lip. Then she put the napkin down on the tablecloth, shoved her chair back, stood up without a word and left. Harry remained, sitting and staring at the napkin. She must have been squeezing it in her hand for some time, he mused, because it was crumpled up into a ball. He watched it slowly unfold like a white paper flower.”
― Jo Nesbo, The Redbreast

“Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.”
― Zora Neale Hurston

“Originality is the art of hiding your source”
― Harry Roolaart

“the purpose of life is the life of purpose”
― Robin Sharma, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari