Guards! Guards! (Discworld, #8)

by Terry Pratchett

Human nature, the Patrician always said, was a marvelous thing. Once you understood where its levers were.

The reason that cliches become cliches is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of communication.

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.

“We never intended this,” he said weakly. “Honestly. No offense. We just wanted what was due to us.” A skeletal hand patted him on the shoulder, not unkindly. And Death said, CONGRATULATIONS.

If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn’t as cynical as real life.

You have the effrontery to be squeamish, it thought at him. But we were dragons. We were supposed to be cruel, cunning, heartless, and terrible. But this much I can tell you, you ape—the great face pressed even closer, so that Wonse was staring into the pitiless depths of his eyes—we never burned and tortured and ripped one another apart and called it morality.

Never trust any ruler who puts his faith in tunnels and bunkers and escape routes. The chances are that his heart isn’t in the job.”

“What’s up, Sarge? Do you want to live forever?” “Dunno. Ask me again in five hundred years.”

“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people,” said the man. “You’re wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.”