Ankh-Morpork did not have many hospitals. All the Guilds maintained their own sanitariums, and there were a few public ones run by the odder religious organizations, like the Balancing Monks, but by and large medical assistance was nonexistent and people had to die inefficiently, without the aid of doctors. It was generally thought that the existence of cures encouraged slackness and was in any case probably against Nature’s way. (GG)
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Meat is extremely bad for the digestive system,’ said Magrat. ‘If you could see inside your colon you’d be horrified.'
‘I think I would,’ muttered Hwel. (WS) It was one of the few sorrows of Granny Weatherwax’s life that, despite all her efforts, she’d arrived at the peak of her career with a complexion like a rosy apple and all her teeth. No amount of charms could persuade a wart to take root on her handsome if slightly equine features, and vast intakes of sugar only served to give her boundless energy. A wizard she’d consulted had explained it was on account of her having a metabolism, which at least allowed her to feel vaguely superior to Nanny Ogg, who she suspected had never even seen one. (WS)
An hour ago Cutwell had thumbed through the index of The Monster Fun Grimoire and had cautiously assembled a number of common household ingredients and put a match to them.
Funny thing about eyebrows, he mused. You never really noticed them until they’d gone. (M) Horse dung made a good fuel, but the Horse People had a lot to learn about air conditioning, starting with what it meant. (LF)
'Early to rise, early to bed, makes a man healthy, wealthy and dead…' (LF)
'What kind of creature defines itself by hatred?' (Th)
Granny Weatherwax was firmly against fiction. Life was hard enough without lies floating around and changing the way people thought. And because the theatre was fiction made flesh, she hated the theatre most of all. But that
was it – hate was exactly the right word. Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is just love with its back turned. (Ma) 'You mean they hate water?' said Twoflower.
‘No, that wouldn’t work,’ said Rincewind. ‘Hate is an attracting force, just like love. They really loathe it, the very idea of it revolts them. (COM) There was something about Granny Morkie cheering people up that always got them moving. Anything was better than being cheered up some more. (Dig)
'… for a witch there are no happy endings. There are just endings.' (W)
Fun. What is it good for?
It’s not pleasure, joy, delight, enjoyment or glee. It’s a hollow, cruel, vicious little bastard, a word for something sought with an hilarious couple of wobbly antennae on your head and the words‘I want It!’ on your shirt, and it tends to leave you waking up with your face stuck to the street. (Th) Joy is to fun what the deep sea is to a puddle. It’s a feeling inside that can hardly be contained. (HFS)
One should always be wary of people who talk unashamedly of ‘fellowship and good cheer’ as if it were something that can be applied to life like a poultice. Turn your back for a moment and they may well organize a Maypole dance and, frankly, there’s no option then but to try and make it to the treeline. (H)
I THOUGHT IT WAS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY, said Death.
‘Ah, well, yes, you see, one of the things that makes folks even more jolly is knowing there’re people who ain’t,’ said Albert, in a matter-of-fact voice. (H) 'You can’t make happiness ...’
Granny Weatherwax stared at the distant city. ‘All you can do,’ she said, ‘is make an ending.' (WA) 'I've worked out,’ said the Senior Wrangler, ‘that over the years I have been a net exporter of Hogswatch presents-’
‘Oh, everyone is,’ said the Chair. ‘You spend a fortune on other people and what you get when all the paper is cleared away is one slipper that’s the wrong colour and a book about earwax.' (H) This is a planet. Most of it is covered in water but it's still called Earth. (Wings)
It is well known that stone can think, because the whole of electronics is based on that fact, but in some universes men spend ages looking for other intelligences in the sky without once looking under their feet. This is because they’ve got the time-span all wrong. From stone’s point of view the universe is hardly created and mountain ranges are bouncing up and down like organ-stops while continents zip backwards and forwards in generally high spirits, crashing into each other from the sheer joy of momentum and getting their rocks off. It is going to be quite some time before stone notices its disfiguring little skin disease and starts to scratch, which is just as well. (ER)
'You don’t get manners from heaven,’ said Granny. (W)
'Try not to fart, in a nutshell.’
‘In a nutshell I imagine it would be pretty unpleasant!' (W) 'I don’t gallivant! I’ve never gallivanted. I don’t know how to vant! I don’t even have a galli!' (Th)
Some distance away from Madam Frout's in Estoric Street, were a number of gentlemen’s clubs. It would be far too cynical to say that here the term ‘gentleman’ was simply defined as ‘someone who can afford five hundred dollars a year’; they also had to be approved of by a great many other gentlemen who could afford the same fee. (TOT)
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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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