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

by Terry Pratchett

Nanny Ogg grinned and tucked the card back on the mantelpiece. She liked the idea of “cordially.” It had a rich, a thick and above all an alcoholic sound.

“Hah! The leopard does not change his shorts, my girl!”

I mean, it’s one thing saying you’ve got the best god, but sayin’ it’s the only real one is a bit of a cheek, in my opinion.

“I’ve got a pamphlet if you would like to know more,” and this time the tone was much more positive, as if the existence of Om was a little uncertain whereas the existence of pamphlets was obvious to any open-minded, rational-thinking person.

There was even a bit of sullen thunder now, not the outgoing sort that cracks the sky but the other sort, which hangs around the horizons and gossips nastily with other storms.

And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is.”

“It’s not my place to tell ’em what to believe, if they act decent.”

“Only animals can’t help what they are,” said Granny.