Monstrous Regiment (Discworld, #31)

by Terry Pratchett

I’m bad, I’m fierce, I’m cool, I’d like a pint of shandy and me mam wants me home by nine . .

It was said to be a wonder of the world, except that very few people around here ever wondered much about anything and were barely aware of the world.

The word ‘fat’ could not honestly be applied to him, not when the word ‘gross’ was lumbering forward to catch your attention. He was one of those people who didn’t have a waist. He had an equator. He had gravity. If he fell over, in any direction, he would rock.

farm boy, breeches held up with string, shuffled in front of the table and looked at the quill pen with the resentful perplexity of those confronted with new technology.

‘It’s a monocle,’ said the captain. ‘It helps me see you, for which I am eternally grateful. I always say that if I had two I’d make a spectacle of myself.’

Wazzer handled weapons like a houseproud woman disposing of a dead mouse – at arm’s length and trying not to look.

The presence of those seeking the truth is infinitely to be preferred to those who think they’ve found it.