The Color of Magic (Discworld, #1)

by Terry Pratchett

An alternative, favored by those of a religious persuasion, was that A’Tuin was crawling from the Birthplace to the Time of Mating, as were all the stars in the sky which were, obviously, also carried by giant turtles. When they arrived they would briefly and passionately mate, for the first and only time, and from that fiery union new turtles would be born to carry a new pattern of worlds. This was known as the Big Bang hypothesis.

and the richer and worthier citizens of Ankh on the far bank were bravely responding to the situation by feverishly demolishing the bridges.

Some might have taken him for a mere apprentice enchanter who had run away from his master out of defiance, boredom, fear and a lingering taste for heterosexuality.

and Hrun the Barbarian, who was practically an academic by Hub standards in that he could think without moving his lips.

The box said, “It’s no good. I’ve run out of pink.” A hitherto unnoticed door opened in front of his eyes. A small, green and hideously warty humanoid figure leaned out, pointed at a color-encrusted palette in one clawed hand, and screamed at him. “No pink! See?” screeched the homunculus. “No good you going on pressing the lever when there’s no pink, is there? If you wanted pink you shouldn’t of took all those pictures of young ladies, should you? It’s monochrome from now on, friend. All right?”

The Luggage hurtled around the corner, its several hundred knees moving like pistons. Rincewind gaped. The spell died, unsaid. The box didn’t appear to be hampered in any way by the ornamental rug draped roguishly over it, nor by the thief hanging by one arm from the lid. It was, in a very real sense, a dead weight. Farther along the lid were the remains of two fingers, owner unknown.

a few hours and a hundred years ago.

It was all very well going on about pure logic and how the universe was ruled by logic and the harmony of numbers, but the plain fact of the matter was that the Disc was manifestly traversing space on the back of a giant turtle and the gods had a habit of going around to atheists’ houses and smashing their windows.

is at this point that normal language gives up, and goes and has a drink.

The craftsman paused, his naked body—naked, at least, were it not for a toolbelt, a wrist abacus and a deep tan—tensing

“Ghlen Livid,”

Play on glenlivich. Absolutely spectacular

Gorunna Trench—a chasm in the Disc’s surface that was so black, so deep and so reputedly evil that even the krakens went there fearfully, and in pairs.

Put me down on the floor and stand back The frog blinked. The wizard did so, and dragged a bewildered Twoflower out of the way. The room darkened. There was a windy, roaring sound. Streamers of green, purple and octarine cloud appeared out of nowhere and began to spiral rapidly toward the recumbent amphibian, shedding small bolts of lightning as they whirled. Soon the frog was lost in a golden haze which began to elongate upward, filling the room with a warm yellow light. Within it was a darker, indistinct shape, which wavered and changed even as they watched. And all the time there was the high, brain-curdling whine of a huge magical field . . . As suddenly as it had appeared, the magical tornado vanished. And there, occupying the space where the frog had been, was a frog. “Fantastic,”