Bokelskere.no

It's one thing saying you've got the best god, but sayin' it's the only real one is a bit of a cheek.

Now the Quite Reverend Oats looked at himself in the mirror. He was a bit uneasy about the mirror, to be honest. Mirrors had led to one of the Church’s innumerable schisms, one side saying that since they encouraged vanity they were bad, and the other saying that since they reflected the goodness of Om they were holy. Oats had not quite formed his own opinion, being by nature someone who tries to see something in both sides of every question, but at least the mirrors helped him get his complicated clerical collar on straight.

'People have quite the wrong idea about vampires, you see. Are we fiendish killers?' He beamed at them. 'Well, yes, of course we are. But only when necessary.'

'I think he's a bit of a romnantic, actually', said Magrat.

'Oh, I don't know, I really don't', said Nanny. 'I mean, it's flattering and everything, but I really don't think I could be goin' out with a man with a limp'.

'Limp what?'

Nanny Ogg had always considered herself unshockable, but there's no such thing. Shock can come from unexpected directions.

Those who are inclined to casual cruelty say that inside a fat girl is a thin girl and a lot of chocolate. Agnes's thin girl was Perdita.