What do you think?
Rate this book
277 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1986
She is there, down below the mines and sea ooze and fake fossil bones put there by a Creator with nothing better to do than upset archaeologists and give them silly ideas.
Not for the first time she reflected that there were many drawbacks to being a swordswoman, not the least of which was that men didn't take you seriously until you'd actually killed them, by which time it didn't really matter anyway. (...) But she was too big to be a thief, too honest to be an assassin, too intelligent to be a wife, and too proud to enter the only other female profession generally available.
Someone who spent his life living rough under the sky knew the value of a good thick book, which ought to outlast at least a season of cooking fires if you were careful how you tore the pages out.
Magic! So that's what it felt like! No wonder wizards didn't have much truck with sex!
"She's not bad," said Twoflower. "She's going to marry a friend of ours."
"Does he know?"
Most people on the Disc were currently in a state of mind normally achievable only by a lifetime of dedicated meditation or about thirty seconds of illegal herbage.
"Rincewind, all the shops have been smashed open, there was a whole bunch of people across the street helping themselves to musical instruments, can you believe that?"
"Yeah," said Rincewind. "Luters, I expect."
The Luggage said nothing.
"Look he's not my responsibility," said Rincewind. "Let's be absolutely clear about that."
The Luggage said nothing, but louder this time.
"Um," said Twoflower. "Yes. That's about enough, I think. Put him down, please."
The Luggage gave a creak of betrayal at the sound of its master's voice.
(Rincewind, about Twoflower) He just looks at things, but nothing he looks at is ever the same again. Including me, I expect.
sonriendo como un necrófilo en un depósito de cadáveres.
"I expect everything will turn out quite all right in the end," said Twoflower.
Rincewind looked at him. Remarks like that always threw him off.
"Do you really believe that? I mean," he said. "Really?"
"Well, things generally do work out satisfactorily, when you come to think about it."
"If you think the total disruption of my life in the last year is satisfactory then you might be right. I've lost count of the times I've nearly been killed--"
"Twenty-seven," said Twoflower.
'He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry saber-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying. "What a magnificent brute!" and "Here, pussy."
"Against the whole of human experience Twoflower believed that if only people would talk to each other, have a few drinks, exchange pictures of their grandchildren, maybe take in a show or something, then everything could be sorted out. He also believed that people were basically good but sometimes had their bad days."
a) you're not trying to harm it's master and his friends.
b) you don't kick its wooden sides and be a big bully.
c) you don't try to force open its lid apart to see what treasure is inside (there are usually none).
NOT LIKE THIS. THE DEATH OF THE WARRIOR OR THE OLD MAN OR THE LITTLE CHILD, THIS I UNDERSTAND, AND I TAKE AWAY THE PAIN AND END THE SUFFERING. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS DEATH-OF-THE-MIND.All-in-all, it's the first inklings of the strong character work, social commentary and razor sharp humor that have made Pratchett a household name.
[...]poets and bards were banned on pain of - well, pain - from going on about babbling brooks and rosy-fingered dawn and could only say, for example, that a face had launched a thousand ships if they were able to produce certified dockyard accounts.