Carpe Jugulum (Discworld, #23; Witches, #6)

by Terry Pratchett

The smug mask of virtue triumphant could be almost as horrible as the face of wickedness revealed.

“My own granny has an old country sayin’ she always trotted out at times like this . . .” “Which was . . . ?” “‘Bugger off, you little devil, or I’ll chop off your nose and give it to the cat.’ Of course, that’s not so very helpful at a time like this, I’ll admit.”

She was not, herself, hugely in favor of motherhood in general. Obviously it was necessary, but it wasn’t exactly difficult. Even cats managed it. But women acted as if they’d been given a medal that entitled them to boss people around. It was as if, just because they’d got the label which said “mother,” everyone else got a tiny part of the label that said “child” . . .

“Mythology’s just the folktales of people who won ’cos they had bigger swords.

“There’s no grays, only white that’s got grubby. I’m surprised you don’t know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is.” “It’s a lot more complicated than that—” “No. It ain’t. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they’re getting worried that they won’t like the truth. People as things, that’s where it starts.” “Oh, I’m sure there are worse crimes—” “But they starts with thinking about people as things . . .”