Quotes About Danger

Overexcited? No! I'm getting very calmly worried that someone might shoot me!

People were stupid, sometimes. They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, which was true enough, but what made it really one of the most dangerous places there could ever be was the simple fact that it was a library.

When Mister Safety Catch Is Not On, Mister Crossbow Is Not Your Friend.

These weren't encouraged in the city, since the heft and throw of a longbow's arrow could send it through an innocent bystander a hundred yards away instead of the innocent bystander at whom it was aimed.

The Library didn't only contain magical books, the ones which are chained to their shelves and are very dangerous. It also contained perfectly ordinary books, printed on commonplace paper in mundane ink. It would be a mistake to think that they weren't also dangerous, just because reading them didn't make fireworks go off in the sky. Reading them sometimes did the more dangerous trick of making fireworks go off in the privacy of the reader's brain.

Bringing about Armageddon can be dangerous. Do not attempt it in your own home.

It would take a lot to faze a copper from the Met. It would take, for example, a huge, battered car that was nothing more nor less than a fireball, a blazing, roaring, twisted metal lemon from Hell, driven by a grinning lunatic in sunglasses, sitting amid the flames, trailing thick black smoke, coming straight at them through the lashing rain and the wind at eighty miles per hour. That would do it every time.

Don't stick your nose where someone can pull it off and eat it.

Ye gods, it was so much better when there were just four of us up against that bloody great dragon, Vimes thought as they walked on. Of course, we nearly got burned alive a few times, but at least it wasn't complicated. It was a damned great dragon. You could see it coming. It didn't get political on you.

Don't start weaving a social hypothesis in front of an angry woman holding a blade.

Look out! He's got a daisy!

Real magic is the hand around the bandsaw, the thrown spark in the powder keg, the dimension-warp linking you straight into the heart of a star, the flaming sword that burns all the way down to the pommel. Sooner juggle torches in a tar pit than mess with real magic. Sooner lie down in front of a thousand elephants.

In the swamp the alligators drifted like patches of bad-assed water.

Can you swim? said Victor. One of the cavern's rotting pillars crashed down behind them. From the pit itself came a terrible wailing. Not very well, said Ginger. Me neither, he said. The commotion behind them was getting worse. Still, he said, taking her hand. We could look on this as a great opportunity to improve really quickly.

He hated weapons, and not just because they'd so often been aimed at him. You got into more trouble if you had a weapon. People shot you instantly if they thought you were going to shoot them. But if you were unarmed, they often stopped to talk. Admittedly, they tended to say things like, You'll never guess what we're going to do to you, pal, but that took time. And Rincewind could do a lot with a few more seconds. He could use them to live longer in.

He'll just track us down and follow us and then he'll kill Carrot! Why? Because Carrot's mine!

Tiffany had watched the dead before many times, of course - it was the custom for a departing soul to have company the night before any funeral or burial, as if to make a point to anything that might be... lurking: this person mattered , there is someone here to make sure nothing evil creeps in at this time of danger.

Plutonium may give you grief for thousands of years, but Arsenic is for ever.

In some parts of the city, curiosity didn't just kill the cat, it threw it in the river with lead weights tied to its feet.

Say what you like. Plutonium may give you grief for thousands of years, but arsenic is forever.

It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork.

The trouble was, the trolls up in the plaza probably weren't bad trolls, and the dwarfs down in the square probably weren't bad dwarfs, either. People who probably weren't bad could kill you.

The danger is in what we codify, commodify, and exploit.

In the desert, success is the understanding of limits. One false move and you die. You can't talk your way out of thirst. Bare skin burns. Face-to-face with a spitting rattlesnake, the only thing you have to negotiate is your escape. There are rules in the desert. Pay attention. Adapt or parish.