Quotes About Quote

Bursar? Yes, Archchancellor? You ain't a member of some secret society or somethin', are you? Me? No, Archchancellor. Then it'd be a damn good idea to take your underpants off your head.

Multiple exclamation marks,' he went on, shaking his head, 'are a sure sign of a diseased mind.

We've strayed into a zone with a high magical index,' he said. 'Don't ask me how. Once upon a time a really powerful magic field must have been generated here, and we're feeling the after-effects.' Precisely,' said a passing bush.

In the words of the philosopher Sceptum, the founder of my profession: am I going to get paid for this?

DO I DETECT A NOTE OF UNSEASONAL GRUMPINESS? said Death. NO SUGAR PIGGYWIGGY FOR YOU, ALBERT.

You do know you could find yourself charged with being a dominant species while under the influence of impulse-driven consumerism, don't you?

Satire is meant to ridicule power. If you are laughing at people who are hurting, it's not satire, it's bullying.

Do you know how wizards like to be buried? Yes! Well, how? Granny Weatherwax paused at the bottom of the stairs. Reluctantly.

I don't think I've drunk enough beer to understand that.

I wouldn't trust you with a bucket of water if my knickers were on fire!

Were you proposing to shoot these people in cold blood, sergeant? Nossir. Just a warning shot inna head, sir.

The thief, as will become apparent, was a special type of thief. This thief was an artist of theft. Other thieves merely stole everything that was not nailed down, but this thief stole the nails as well.

Let's just say that if complete and utter chaos were lightning, then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armor and shouting 'All Gods are bastards.

I would like you to teach [the orcs] civilised behaviour, said Ladyship coldly. He appeared to consider this. Yes of course, I think that would be quite possible, he said. And who would you send to teach the humans?

Well,----me," he said. "A----ing wizard. I hate----ing wizards!" "You shouldn't----them, then," muttered one of his henchmen, effortlessly pronouncing a row of dashes.

Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936.

You'll see! We're going to the palace. Fetch Angua. We might need her. And bring the search warrant. You mean the sledgehammer, sir? Yes.

If words had weight, a single sentence from Death would have anchored a ship.

And all the stories had, somewhere, the witch. The wicked old witch. And Tiffany had thought: Where's the evidence?

The universe, they say, depended for its operation on the balance of four forces which they identified as charm, persuasion, uncertainty, and bloody-mindedness.

Oh, where are my manners? Do sit down. Pull up a small child.

Although the scythe isn't pre-eminent among the weapons of war, anyone who has been on the wrong end of, say, a peasants' revolt will know that in skilled hands it is fearsome.

That's the Ankh-Morpork instinct, Vimes thought. Run away, and then stop and see if anything interesting is going to happen to other people.

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