Feet of Clay (Discworld, #19; City Watch, #3)

by Terry Pratchett

Rumor is information distilled so finely that it can filter through anything. It does not need doors and windows—sometimes it doesn’t even need people. It can exist free and wild, running from ear to ear without ever touching lips.

“They think they want good government and justice for all, Vimes, yet what is it they really crave, deep in their hearts? Only that things go on as normal and tomorrow is pretty much like today.”

Whoever had created humanity had left in a major design flaw. It was its tendency to bend at the knees.

And, while it was regarded as pretty good evidence of criminality to be living in a slum, for some reason owning a whole street of them merely got you invited to the very best social occasions.

The real world was far too real to leave neat little hints. It was full of too many things. It wasn’t by eliminating the impossible that you got at the truth, however improbable; it was by the much harder process of eliminating the possibilities.

People said that there was one law for the rich and one law for the poor, but it wasn’t true. There was no law for those who made the law, and no law for the incorrigibly lawless. All the laws and rules were for those people stupid enough to think like Cockbill Street people.

There were no public health laws in Ankh-Morpork. It would be like installing smoke detectors in Hell.

What is it I’m always telling you?” “Er . . . er . . . Never trust anybody, sir?” “No, not that.” “Er . . . er . . . Everyone’s guilty of something, sir?” “Not that, either.” “Er . . . er . . . Just because someone’s a member of an ethnic minority doesn’t mean they’re not a nasty small-minded little jerk, sir?” “N—When did I say that?” “Last week, sir. After we’d had that visit from the Campaign for Equal Heights, sir.” “Well, not that. I mean . . . I’m pretty sure I’m always saying something else that’s very relevant here. Something pithy about police work.” “Can’t remember anything right now, sir.” “Well, I’ll damn’ well make up something and start saying it a lot from now on.”

“The common people?” said Vimes. “They’re nothing special. They’re no different from the rich and powerful except they’ve got no money or power. But the law should be there to balance things up a bit. So I suppose I’ve got to be on their side.”

Only crimes could take place in darkness. Punishment had to be done in the light.

“Commander, I always used to consider that you had a definite anti-authoritarian streak in you.” “Sir?” “It seems that you have managed to retain this even though you are Authority.” “Sir?” “That’s practically Zen.”