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"Da jeg var barn, lilte jeg ikke roser," sier han plutselig. "De har torner, jeg stakk meg på dem, derfor likte jeg dem ikke." Han ler. "Senere forsto jeg at nesten alt som er vakkert har torner. Og at vi vil stikke oss - om og om igjen - på alt som er verdt å elske."
Some people think that "coven" is a word for a group of witches, and it's true that's what the dictionary says. But the real word for a group of witches is an "argument."
"My dear friend," Breeze replied, "the entire point of life is to find ways to get others to do your work for you. Don't you know anything about basic economics?"
Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.
Always remember that the crowd which applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show.
Attitude was everything. Moist had studied attitude. Some of the old nobility had it. It was the total lack of any doubt that things would go the way they expected them to go.
It turned out that when Miss Level had asked Tiffany if she was scared of heights, it had been the wrong question. Tiffany was not afraid of heights at all. She could walk past tall trees without batting an eyelid. Looking up at huge towering mountains didn't bother her a bit.
What she was afraid of, although she hadn't realized it up until this point, was depths. She was afraid of dropping such a long way out of the sky that she'd have time to run out of breath screaming before hitting the rocks so hard that she'd turn to a sort of jelly and all her bones would break into dust. She was, in fact, afraid of the ground. Miss Level should have thought before asking the question.
The sergeant turned to Polly and grinned, which made his scars move oddly and caused a tremor to shake all his chins. The word "fat" could not honestly be applied to him, not when the word "gross" was lumbering forward to catch your attention. He was one of those people who didn't have a waist. He had an equator. He had gravity. If he fell over, in any direction, he would rock.
Alt det vi drømmer om... Som barn ser vi alltid fremover. Det er alltid noe vi venter på. Og som unge: Lykken er aldri der vi er, det vi har - men der vi ennå ikke har vært, det vi ennå ikke har eid.
Slik går livet.
Med lukkede øyne.
Og uten ro.
Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying 'End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH', the paint wouldn't even have time to dry.
"A story is like a nut," Vashet said. "A fool will swallow it whole and choke. A fool will throw it away, thinking it of little worth." She smiled. "But a wise woman finds a way to crack the shell and eat the meat inside."
I hate cables. They hate me too, because they know that one day I will simply be able to go into that cupboard with a flamethrower and get rid of the lot of them. In the meantime they are determined to extract from me the last ounce of frustrated misery that they can. We do not need the bastards. We shouldn't need the bastards.
Ankh-Morpork people considered that spelling was a sort of optional extra. They believed in it in the same way they believed in punctuation; it didn't matter where you put it so long as it was there.
The world is made up of four elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water. This is a fact well known even to Corporal Nobbs. It's also wrong. There's a fifth element, and generally it's called Surprise.
Wizards, when faced with danger, would immediately stop and argue amongst themselves about exactly what kind of danger it was. By the time everyone in the party understood, either it had become the sort of danger where your options are so very, very clear that you instantly take one of them or die, or it had got bored and gone away. Every danger has its pride.
Rincewind had always been happy to think of himself as a racist. The One Hundred Meters, the Mile, the Marathon - he'd run them all. Later, when he learned with some surprise what the word actually meant, he'd been equally certain he wasn't one. He was a person who divided the world quite simply into people who were trying to kill him and people who weren't. That didn't leave much room for fine details like what colour anyone was.
Dullness. Only humans could have invented it. What imaginations they had.
There is an art, it says, or, rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.