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“You’d have to be a born fool to be a king,” said Granny.
Ah, foreshadowing.
“Things that try to look like things often do look more like things than things. Well-known fact,” said Granny.
True enough, and so well-expressed!
“I expect you could,” said Granny. “I expect you could say anything, Mr. Vitoller.”
A little respect from Granny.
Sometimes, she thought, it would be nice if people could be a bit kinder . . . She stared at the ball. Well, she could make a start. “He will make friends easily,” she whispered. It wasn’t much, she knew, but it was something she’d never been able to get the hang of.
Magrat makes me sad. She makes me wish I lived in Lancre so there would be someone to be nice to her.
“Let him be whoever he thinks he is,” she said. “That’s all anybody could hope for in this world.”
The three of them do a good job with the gifts.
She leaned a little closer, and said, “I gave you your first good hiding in this valley of tears and by all the gods if you cross me now I will give you your last.”
I swear Pratchett is quoting my grandmother here.
But he would have to be a fool indeed,
This book really loves the foreshadowing.
This iss My Little Study, he wrote. Hey, with a Little Study youe could goe a Long Way. And I wishe youed start now. Iffe You can’t leave yn a Cab then leave yn a Huff. Iff thates too soone, thenn leave yn a minute and a Huff.
OMG he's inventing the Marx Brothers! I love those guys!
New buildings were rare in Morpork, but this was even a new type of building. The Dysk.
Oh, I get it. The Globe Theater, but on a flat planet. Clever!
It was a blue and white jug. Funny how little details stood out at a time like this. It had been smashed several times in the past, he could see, because the pieces had been carefully glued together again. Someone had really loved that jug.
This also always makes me sad.
“This is the capital city of the kingdom,” said Nanny Ogg. “Well-designed streets, you’ll notice.” “Streets?” said Tomjon. “Street,” corrected Granny. “Also houses in quite good repair, stone’s throw from river—” “Throw?” “Drop,” Nanny conceded.
When I'm sober this is too much, but when I've been drinking it's perfect.
She turned up in a green dress and a filthy temper. “What’s all this about a play?” she said. The Fool sagged onto a willow log. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” he said.
Oh. Yes, I've been here.
