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I lay on the bed and lost myself in the stories. I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.
«Flows of shit» , muttered Bat, «I’d go insane, listening to that all day. It’s just a river of ‘Hey, this crazy, disgusting thing just happened, and hey, here’s another one, and another, and another, has your brain caught fire yet?’ It’s like disaster porn or something.»
«Fuck me», Bat gasped, «It’s like an angel shat ice cream coffee rainbows in my mouth».
“Everybody knows when you sleep with too many people, you give away too much of yerself and you fall apart. his brain ain’t right because he’s got too many women in there and not enough of him to keep himself together.” “That don’t make no sense”, she said. “Why don’t faithful folk go mad then? Wouldn’t they be giving themselves too?” “They give themselves to the same person though, so themselves would already be there. They’re just changing it back and forth and coming home to it every night.” “What are they giving?” she asked, her voice more filled with curiosity than disbelief. Derk took another drag, his face tranquil and looking rather pleased with himself. “Their humours, their peronality, themselves. Why d’yah think children look and act like their parents?"
..og verda skal stå til den eine drep den andre, eit drap som vil komme i ei tid då bror drep bror, då alle frendskapsband brest, ei vargtid då verger vil vike og gudeborn svike.
She came out from the bushes. Two men crouched by a campfire, a pot steaming over it. One had a thick beard, a wood-axe in his fist. Before he lifted it halfway Monza slashed him across the eyes and he fell down, screaming. The other turned to run and she spitted him through the back before he got a stride. The bearded man roared and roared, hands clutching at his face. She stabbed him in the chest, and he groaned out a few wet breaths, then stopped.
She frowned down at the two corpses while the sounds of fighting slowly petered out. Benna crept from the trees, and he took the bearded man's purse from his belt, and he tipped a heavy wedge of silver coins out into his palm. "He has seventeen scales." It was twice as much as the whole crop had been worth.He held the other man's purse out to her, eyes wide. "This one has thirty." "Thirty?" Monza looked at the blood on her father's sword, and thought how strange it was that she was a murderer now. How strange it was that it had been so easy to do.
Easier than digging in the stony soil for a living. Far, far easier. Afterwards, she waited for the remorse to come upon her.She waited for a long time. It never came.
People never learn anything by being told, they have to find out for themselves.
Hvordan foretrekker du skalpellen, skarp, middels skarp eller sløv?
Jeg vet ikke hvordan det er med andre lesere, men dette sitatet på tittelbladet gir i alle fall meg en ørliten, grøssende og frydefull forventning til det kommende innholdet.
Return to where?" Lord Vetinari turned to face him. "Not, let me make it clear, to the Counterweight continent",he said. "This is not one of those birds the Agatean Empire uses for its message service. It is a well-known fact that we have no contact with that mysterious land. And this bird is not the first to arrive here for many years,and it did not bring a strange and puzzling messages. Do I make myself clear?" "No." "Good." "This is not an albatross?" The Patrician smiled. "Ah,I can see you're getting the hang of it.
"Kan en magiker drepe et menneske med magi?" spurte Lord Wellington.
Strange rynket pannen. Han så ut til å mislike spørsmålet. "En magiker kan nok det," medga han, "men en gentleman ville aldri gjøre det."
Fy faen! Det er ingen som regisserer dette idiotiske skuespillet. Det kan det umulig være. Hvis noen gjør det, så er han en større sadistisk drittsekk enn de gir ham æren for.
Are you scared?" he asked,taking a fresh sip from his cup without letting his eyes wander away from Maaya. "What? Of you choking to death on hot chocolate?
Fantabulous?" he shrieked. "What kind of word is that?!" Maaya smiled. "A fantabulous one!