Sourcery (Discworld, #5; Rincewind, #3)

by Terry Pratchett

meant,” said Ipslore, bitterly, “what is there in this world that makes living worthwhile?” Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually, CATS ARE NICE.

He didn’t administer a reign of terror, just the occasional light shower.

No one knows why smoking boots always remain, no matter how big the explosion. It seems to be just one of those things.

“Talent just defines what you do,” he said. “It doesn’t define what you are. Deep down, I mean. When you know what you are, you can do anything.”

The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find

“I’m not going to ride on a magic carpet!” he hissed. “I’m afraid of grounds!” “You mean heights,” said Conina. “And stop being silly.”

“I know what I mean! It’s the grounds that kill you!”