Quotes from Terry Pratchett

His mind worked fast, flying in emergency supplies of common sense, as human minds do, to construct a huge anchor in sanity and prove that what happened hadn't really happened and, if it had happened, hadn't happened much.

Vimes took the view that life was so full of things happening erraticaly in all directions, that the chance of any of them making some kind of relevant sense were remote in the extreme.

One of the highlights of the first Good Omens tour was Neil and I walking through New York singing Shoehorn with Teeth. Well, we'd had a good breakfast. And you don't get mugged, either.

They shed a rather unpleasant glow that didn't so much illuminate, as outline the darkness.

The short conversation that follows eventually led to a tree religion. Its tenet of faith was this: a tree that was a good tree and led a clean decent and upstanding life could be assured of a future life after death. If it was very good indeed it would eventually be reincarnated as five thousand rolls of lavatory paper.

She'd never mastered the talent for apologizing, but she appreciated it in other people.

Carpe Jugulum, read Agnes aloud. That's... well, Carpe Diem is 'Sieze the Day,' so this means- Go for the throat

Smaller-than-Medium-Jock-but-bigger-than-Wee-Jock-Jock

Quick, someone's coming! Look real!

And our lady friend, she thinks life works like a fairy tale.' Well, that's harmless, isn't it?' Yeah, but in fairy tales, when someone dies... it's just a word.

Sam Vimes could parallel process. Most husbands can. They learn to follow their own line of thought while at the same time listening to what their wives say. And the listening is important, because at any time they could be challenged and must be ready to quote the last sentence in full. A vital additional skill is being able to scan the dialogue for telltale phrases such as and they can deliver it tomorrow or so I've invited them for dinner? or they can do it in blue, really quite cheaply.

Just a minute, said Lobsang. Who are you? Time has stopped, the world is given over to...fairy tales and monsters, and there's a schoolteacher walking around? Best kind of person to have, said Susan. We don't like silliness. Anyway, I told you. I've inherited certain talents. Like living outside of time? That's one of them. It's a weird talent for a schoolteacher! Good for marking, though, said Susan calmly.

He said to people: you're free. And they said hooray, and then he showed them what freedom costs and they called him a tyrant and, as soon as he'd been betrayed, they milled around a bit like barn-bred chickens who've seen the big world outside for the first time, and then they went back into the warm and shut the door...

I want to eat chocolates in a great big room where the world is a different place.

Nothing's louder than the end of a song that's always been there.

There are eight levels of wizardry on the Disc; after sixteen years Rincewind has failed to achieve even level one. In fact it is considered opinion of some of his tutors that he is incapable even of achieving level zero, which most normal people are born at; to put it another way, it has been suggested that when Rincewind dies the average occult ability of the human race will actually go up by a fraction.

This book had two authors, and they were both the same person.

It as true that normal people couldn't hear Gaspode speak, because dogs don't speak. It's a well know fact. ... Besides, almost all dogs don't talk. Ones that do are merely a statistical error, and can therefore be ignored.

Tell someone you are going to rob them and all that will happen is that you'll get a reputation as a truthful man.

He's bound to have done something ," Nobby repeated. In this he was echoing the Patrician's view of crime and punishment. If there was crime, there should be punishment. If the specific criminal should be involved in the punishment process then this was a happy accident, but if not then any criminal would do, and since everyone was undoubtedly guilty of something, the net result was that, in general terms , justice was done.

The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret. [Fred. Free.]

A young man of godlilke proportions* was standing in the doorway. * The better class of gods, anyway. Not the ones with the tentacles, obviously.

Or -- and this she knew was a far more accurate way of looking at it -- the book was true and reality was lying.

When all else failed, she tried being reasonable.