A leader should know all about truth and honesty, and when to see the difference. (Truck)
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They were talking, their mouths were opening and shutting, every word by itself was perfectly understandable, but when they were all put together, they made no sense at all. (Truck)
If you thought hard enough, he'd always considered, you could work out everything. The wind, for example. It had always puzzled him until the day he'd realized that it was caused by all the trees waving about. (Truck)
... the Abbot looked so old that he must have been around to give Time itself a bit of a push. (Truck)
'You know what he is! Why not kill-? he began, but he was interrupted.
'Because it doesn't matter what he is. It matters what we are.' (CP) 'Whose side are they on?' Said Brocando.
'Sides? Their own, I suppose, just like everyone else.' (CP) Most armies are in fact run by their sergeants - the officers are there just to give things a bit of tone and prevent warfare becoming a mere lower-class brawl. (CP)
Nearly as bad as discovering all your worst fears are coming true, Snibril thought, is finding out that they're not. (CP)
'When they're standing right in front of you, kings are a kind of speech impediment.' (CP)
There was the silence made by something frightened in fear of its life. There was the silence made by small creatures, being still. There was the silence made by big creatures, waiting to pounce on small creatures. Sometimes there was the silence made by no one being there. And then there was a very sharp, hot kind of silence made by someone there - watching. (CP)
'That's not medicine. That's just a way of keeping people amused while they're ill.' (CP)
'... I wish that the people who sing about the deeds of heroes would think about the people who have to clear up after them.' (CP)
They didn't have any gods themselves but were generally polite about those belonging to other people. (CP)
'Never mind about the stories. They're just metaphors.'
'Interesting lies,' translated Bane. (CP) The Munrungs didn't have gods. Life was complicated enough as it was. (CP)
... they lived peacefully and avoided having much to do with history, which tends to get people killed. (CP)
I wrote that in the days when I thought fantasy was all battles and kings. Now I'm inclined to think that the real concerns of fantasy ought to be about not having battles and doing without kings. (CP)
... the traditions of the Dibbler clan would never let a mere disastrous fact get in the way of a spiel. (LC)
Once upon a time the plural of 'wizard' was 'war'. (LC)
There were times that called for mindless, terror-filled panic, and times that called for measured, considered, thoughtful panic. (LC)
In Mrs Whitlow's book, gods were socially very acceptable, at least if they had proper human heads and wore clothes ... (LC)
'Intelligence is like legs - too many and you trip yourself up.' (LC)
When he was a boy, Ponder Stibbons had imagined that wizards would be powerful democrats-gods able to change the whole world at the flick of a finger, and then he'd grown up and found that they were tiresome old men who worries about the state of their feet and, in harm's way, would even bicker about the origin of the phrase 'in harm's way'.
It had never struck him that evolution works in all kinds of ways. There were still quite deep scars in old buildings that showed what happened when you had the other kind of wizard. (LC) And they acted like savages*.
* Again, when people like Mrs Whitlow use this term they are not, for some inexplicable reason, trying to suggest that the subjects have a rich oral tradition, a complex system of tribal rights and a deep respect for the spirits of their ancestors. They are implying the kind of behaviour more generally associated, oddly enough, with people wearing a full suit of clothes, often with the same insignia. (LC) ... there is something hugely unlovable about sheep, a kind of mad, eye-rolling brainlessness smelling of damp wool and panic. Many religions extol the virtues of the meek, but Rincewind had never trusted them. The meek could turn very nasty at times. (LC)
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The world has lost Sir Terry, and it's so much the poorer for that. Vale Sir Terry. Categories
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