... people lower their voices in the presence of large sums of money. (MM)
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... the whole place began to revolve around the big man, gold being very dense and having a gravity of its own. (GP)
'Money is not a thing, it is not even a process. It is a kind of shared dream. We dream that a small disc of common metal is worth the price of a substantial meal. Once you wake up from that dream, you can swim in a sea of money.' (GP)
It wasn’t that he’d liked being shot at by hooded figures in the temporary employ of his many and varied enemies, but he’d always looked at it as some kind of vote of confidence. It showed that he was annoying the rich and arrogant people who ought to be annoyed. (NW)
The Horde had it all. They had everything that money could buy, and since there was a lot of money on the Counterweight Continent, that was everything.
It occurred to him that when you’d had everything, all that was left was nothing. (LH) If you are a king your daughter will be beautiful. People have tried all kinds of aids to beauty, like washing in the morning dew, shoving yoghurt on their faces, etc, but for my money the best way to be beautiful is to have a dad with a lot of money and a bunch of armed men. It’s just amazin’ how people will spontaneously see what a beautiful princess you are in those circumstances. (NOC)
'Sit down, will you? Assassin’s are always late. ‘cos of style, right?’
‘This one’s mental.’ ‘Eccentric.’ ‘What’s the difference?’ ‘A bag of cash.' (H) In fact the Guild, he liked to think, practiced the ultimate democracy. You didn’t need intelligence, social position, beauty or charm to hire it. You just needed money which, unlike the other stuff, was available to everyone. Except for the poor, of course, but there was no helping some people. (H)
She knew about old money, which was somehow hallowed by the fact that people had hug on to it for years, and she knew about new money, which seemed to be being made by all these upstarts that were flooding into the city these days. But under her powdered bosom she was an Ankh-Morpork shopkeeper, and knew that the best kind of money was the sort that was in her hand rather than someone else’s. The best kind of money was mine, not yours. (Ma)
And he dreamed the dream of all those who publish books, which was to have so much gold in your pockets that you would have to employ two people just to hold your trousers up. (Ma)
'And these young me- people are clearly very successful,’ he added. This obviously carried a lot of weight with the mayor, as it does with many people. No-one likes a poor thief. (SM)
Expecting Dibbler not to think about things concerning money was like expecting rocks not to think about gravity. (SM)
'I thought you were just happy to get paid,’ said Buddy.
‘Right. Right. But I’m even happier to get paid a lot.' (SM) Yen Buddhists are the richest religious sect in the universe. They hold that the accumulation of money is a great evil and burden to the soul. They therefore, regardless of personal hazard, see it as their unpleasant duty to acquire as much as possible in order to reduce the risk to innocent people. (WA)
The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.
Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles. But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’time, while a poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet. This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socio-economic unfairness. (MA) 'Disgusting, really, her livin’ in a room like this. She’s got pots of money, sarge says, she’s got no call livin’ in ordinary rooms. What’s the good of not wanting to be poor if the rich are allowed to go round livin’ in ordinary rooms?' (GG)
What he couldn’t do with fifty thousand dollars ...
Vimes thought about this for a while and then thought of the things he could do with fifty thousand dollars. There were so many more of them, for a start. (GG) Younger assassins, who are usually very poor, have very clear ideas about the morality of wealth until they become older assassins, who are usually very rich, when they begin to take the view that injustice has its good points. (P)
He had the kind of real deep tan that rich people spend ages trying to achieve with expensive holidays and bits of tinfoil, when really all you need to do to obtain one is work your arse off in the open air every day. (ER)
'... he can’t be mad. I’ve been around; if a man hash lotsh of money he’sh just ecshentric.' (LF)
By now the whole of downtown Morpork was alight, and the richer and worthier citizens of Ankh on the far bank were bravely responding to the situation by feverishly demolishing the bridges. (COM)
People came to Ankh-Morpork to seek their fortune. Unfortunately, other people sought it too. (SM)
There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty.
The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: ‘What’s up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don’t think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass! And at the other end of the bar the world is full of the other type of person, who has a broken glass, or a glass that has been carelessly knocked over (usually by one of the people calling for a larger glass), or who has no glass at all, because they were at the back of the crowd and had failed to catch the barman’s eye. (TT) Girls on the Chalk didn’t often run away from a young man who was rich enough to own his own horse – or not for long and not without giving him a chance to catch up. (W)
Ankh-Morpork has always had a fine tradition of welcoming people of all races, colours and shapes, if they have money to spend and a return ticket. (RM)
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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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