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“Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred.
"Six years to the day we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?"
"Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up at him. "Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?"
"I forgeâ€� the details," Hagrid chortled.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer. And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.”
― Maya Angelou, Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer

“Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. I think everyone should have lots of delicious romance novels lying around for those times when the peanut butter of life gets stuck to the roof of your mouth.”
― Janet Evanovich

“Tucker: "But she gave me the perfect gift."
Clara: "What?"
Tucker: "You.”
― Cynthia Hand, Unearthly

“I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth. ”
― Ovid, Metamorphoses

“And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days...”
― Dylan Thomas, Collected Poems

“The way to beat Luke," he said. "If I'm right, it's the only way you'll stand a chance."
I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm listening."
Nico glanced inside my room. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Is that...is that blue birthday cake?"
He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he'd ever even been invited to one.
:Come inside for cake and ice cream," I said. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about.”
― Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth

“A BIRTHDAY

Something continues and I don't know what to call it
though the language is full of suggestions
in the way of language
but they are all anonymous
and it's almost your birthday music next to my bones

these nights we hear the horses running in the rain
it stops and the moon comes out and we are still here
the leaks in the roof go on dripping after the rain has passed
smell of ginger flowers slips through the dark house
down near the sea the slow heart of the beacon flashes

the long way to you is still tied to me but it brought me to you
I keep wanting to give you what is already yours
it is the morning of the mornings together
breath of summer oh my found one
the sleep in the same current and each waking to you

when I open my eyes you are what I wanted to see.”
― W.S. Merwin

“Happy birthday, Alexander," Magnus murmured.
"Thanks for remembering," Alec whispered back.”
― Cassandra Clare, What to Buy the Shadowhunter Who Has Everything

“There is still no cure for the common birthday.”
― John Glenn

“Birthdays could be such a bummer when you were older than the country you lived in.”
― Lynsay Sands, A Quick Bite

“A birth-date is a reminder to celebrate the life as well as to update the life.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“I was brought up to respect my elders, so now I don't have to respect anybody.”
― George Burns

“deep down I believe my year was a special year: it produced me.”
― Ned Vizzini

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. But happy birthday, Sadie.â€�
He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.”
― Rick Riordan, The Throne of Fire

“ It is a peculiarity of knitters that they chronically underestimate the amount of time it takes to knit something. Birthday on Saturday? No problem. Socks are small. Never mind that the average sock knit out of sock-weight yarn contains about 17,000 stitches. Never mind that you need two of them. (That's 34,000 stitches, for anybody keeping track.)
Socks are only physically small. By stitch count, they are immense.”
― Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, At Knit's End

“I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife's grave. Then I joined the army.
Visiting Kathy's grave was the less dramatic of the two.”
― John Scalzi, Old Man's War

“When confronted with a birthday in a week I will remember that a book can be a really good present, too.”
― Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, At Knit's End

“Link says if a girl says not to get her a birthday present that means get me a birthday present and make sure it’s jewelry.”
― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Creatures

“When carrying a jar of honey to give to a friend for his birthday, don't stop and eat it along the way.”
― Joan Powers, Pooh's Little Instruction Book

“I don't mind getting older; it's a privilege denied to so many!”
― Chris Geiger, The Cancer Survivors Club: A collection of inspirational and uplifting stories

“If everybody was treated like they matter â€� everyday; birthdays wouldn’t be so *special.*”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Every day is a gift. But some days are packaged better.”
― Sanhita Baruah

“The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me.”
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“Happy birthday,â€� she said. “And next time? Eat the stupid cupcake.”
― Rachel Caine, Let Them Eat Cake

“May today be the best birthday of your life, I give you my heart as the most precious gift I can give you and I promise I always will love you.”
― Oscar Auliq-Ice

“We do have funerals for the living," Jill said. "They're called birthday parties.”
― Andrew Shaffer, Hope Never Dies

“There are many beautiful songs but I do not dedicate any of them to you because they do not describe the infinite love I feel for you. It is better that I tell you that myself, that I love you with all my strength. Have a happy birthday.”
― Oscar Auliq-Ice

“They all seem infected with a vivaciousness that isn't common in our compound, and there are more smiles on their faces than I've ever seen at once. And yet as I watch them, I feel more intensely than ever the knowledge that I'm not one of them. For these moral humans, birthdays are a kind of countdown to the end, the ticking clock of a dwindling life. For me, birthdays are notches on an infinite timeline. Will I grow tired of parties one day? Will my birthday become meaningless? I imagine myself centuries from now, maybe at my three-hundredth birthday, looking all the way back to my seventeenth. How will I possibly be happy, remembering the light in my mother's eyes? The swiftness of Uncle Antonio's steps as he dances? The way my father stands on edge of the courtyard, smiling in that vague, absent way of his?

The scene shifts and blues in my imagination. As if brushed away by some invisible broom, these people whom I've known my entire life disappear. The courtyard is empty, bare, covered in decaying leaves. I imagine Little Cam deserted, with everyone dead and gone and only me left in the shadows.

Forever.”
― Jessica Khoury, Origin