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like being gently flogged to death with scented bootlaces.
beer not so much purchased as merely hired for a while.
Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant “idiot.”
“You’re a defeatist.” “Defeatist! That’s because I’m going to be defeated!”
“Sometimes I think a man could wander across the Disc all his life and not see everything there is to see,” said Twoflower. “And now it seems there are lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see it makes me feel,” he paused, then added, “well, humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course.”
“My name is immaterial,” she said. “That’s a pretty name,” said Rincewind.
eyes that were black as the inside of a cat
