Agnes loathed him. Perdita merely hated him, which is the opposite pole to love and just as attractive. (CJ)
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Nanny enjoyed music, as well. If music were the food of love, she was game for a sonata and chips at any time. (Ma)
It was just that she had preferred him when he’d been a Fool. There’s something about a man who tinkles gently as he moves. (LL)
‘There was sunnink I got to tell you. What was it, now? Oh, yeah. I remember. Your girlfriend is an agent of demonic powers.’ (MP)
… Mort’s innate honesty will never make him a poet; if Mort ever compared a girl to a summer’s day it would have been followed by a thoughtful explanation of what day he had in mind and whether it was raining at the time. (M)
… only blonde and blue-eyed girls could get the prince and wear the glittering crown. It was built into the world. Even worse, it was built into your hair colouring. Redheads and brunettes sometimes got more than a walk-on part in the land of the story, but if all you had was a rather mousy shade of brown hair you were marked down to be a serving girl. (ISWM)
I'll have to go, Angua thought as they strolled on down the street. Sooner or later he’ll see that it can’t really work out. Werewolves and humans…we’ve both got too much to lose. Sooner or later I’ll have to leave him.
But, for one day at a time, let it be tomorrow. (FC) The old peel-the-apple trick should do that. You just peeled an apple, getting one length of peel, and threw the peel behind you; it’d land in the shape of his name. Millions of girls had tried it and had inevitably been disappointed, unless the loved one was called Scscs. (WS)
Every day, Commander Vimes of the City Watch would be home at six o’clock sharp to read to Young Sam, who was one year old.
Six o’clock, no matter what… or who… or why… because some things are important. (WMC) ... you can’t love people all the time when they have a permanently runny nose. (WFM)
She thinks she has a romantic soul. In fact she has a very solid and down-to-earth soul that underpins a romantic mind. (PP)
They said love always found a way and, of course, so did a number of associated activities. (Ma)
If Ruby had learned anything in Holy Wood, it was that there was no use in waiting around for Mr Right to hit you with a brick. You had to make your own bricks. (MP)
She smiled at him.
And then it arose and struck Vimes that, in her own special category, she was quite beautiful; this was the category of all the women, in his entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at. She couldn’t do worse, but then, he couldn’t do better. So maybe it balanced out. She wasn’t getting any younger but then, who was? And she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things that he didn’t, and she had opened her heart, and if you let her she could engulf you; the woman was a city. And eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done – unbar the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own. (GG) 'I’d like to know if I could compare you to a summer’s day. Because - well, June 12th was quite nice ...' (WS)
'I must say,’ he said, ‘you’re a real brick.’
‘You mean pink, square and dumpy? You really know how to talk to a girl, my boy.' (M) Mort was already aware that love made you feel hot and cold and cruel and weak, but he hadn’t realised that it could make you stupid. (M)
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, which just goes to show they’re as confused about anatomy as they gen’rally are about everything else, unless they’re talking about instructions on how to stab him, in which case a better way is up and under the ribcage. (NOC)
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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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