Troll Bridge by Terry Pratchett

‘No treasure,’ said Cohen.  ‘Spent it all.  Drank it all. Gave it all away. Lost it.’
‘You should have saved some for your old age.’
‘Never thought I’d have an old age.’ (TB)

‘No father ever calls his boy ‘son’ unless he’s about to impart wisdom.  Well-known fact.’ (TB)

‘…if I didn’t try my father would turn in his mound.’
‘You told me he drove you out of the tribe when you were eleven.’
‘Best day’s work he ever did.  Taught me to stand on other people’s feet.’ (TB)

‘Smoke?’
‘That stuff can kill you,’ said the troll.
‘Yes.  But not today.’ (TB)

‘You’ve got to have trolls under bridges.  Otherwise, what’s it all about?’ (TB)

‘I can remember when a man could ride all the way from here to the Blade Mountains and never see another living thing.’  He fingered his sword.  ‘At least, not for very long.’ (TB)

‘I’ve nothing against farms.  Or farmers.  You’ve got to have them.  It’s just that they used to be a long way off, around the edges.  Now this is the edge.’ (TB)

‘Stumps? Stumps? I used to like this forest.  It was…well, it was darksome.  You don’t get proper darksome any more.  You really knew what terror was, in a forest like that.’ (TB)

‘When I was just starting out in the barbarian hero business,’ said Cohen, ‘every bridge had a troll under it.  And you couldn’t go through a forest like we’ve just gone through without a dozen goblins trying to chop your head off.’  He sighed.  ‘I wonder what happened to ’em all?’
‘You,’ said the horse.
‘Well, yes.  But I always thought there’d be some more.  I always thought there’d be some more edges.’ (TB)