Equal Rites (Discworld, #3; Witches, #1)

by Terry Pratchett

She understood babies. You put milk in one end and kept the other end as clean as possible. Adults were even easier, because they did the feeding and cleaning themselves.

“They’re both magic. If you can’t learn to ride an elephant, you can at least learn to ride a horse.” “What’s an elephant?” “A kind of badger,” said Granny. She hadn’t maintained forest-credibility for forty years by ever admitting ignorance.

“Exactly correct. That’s one form of magic, of course.” “What, just knowing things?” “Knowing things that other people don’t know,”

All she wanted, she told herself, was for there to be a slight change in the way the world was organized.

and it is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you’re attempting can’t be done.

“Million-to-one chances,” she said, “crop up nine times out of ten.”

and for a moment he nursed the strangely consoling feeling that his life was totally beyond his control and whatever happened no one could blame him.

“Right,” she said, in a tone of voice that suggested the whole universe had just better watch out.