Harry Potter excerpts...

The Power of Love

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"
        "Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign ... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

The Power of Friendship

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The Freedom to Choose the Good

"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledores face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it —"
        "Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue — resourcefulness — determination — a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."
        "It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin. ..."
        "Exactly, "said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

A Father's Love that Cannot Die

Harry looked up at him. Dumbledore wouldn't laugh—he could tell Dumbledore . . . "I thought it was my dad who'd conjured my Patronus. I mean, when I saw myself across the lake ... I thought I was seeing him."
        "An easy mistake to make," said Dumbledore softly. "I expect you'll tire of hearing it, but you do look extraordinarily like James. Except for the eyes. . . you have your mother's eyes."
        Harry shook his head. "It was stupid, thinking it was him," he muttered. "I mean, I knew he was dead."
        "You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him.

The Healing Power of Story

"...Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."
        The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air. and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him.
        He took a deep breath and began to tell them. ...Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry's shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of  this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous were being extracted.