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"Loving the true? regency ghost stories. Not too scary (so far). Just right for a rainy night in November." — Nov 14, 2021 07:05PM
"Loving the true? regency ghost stories. Not too scary (so far). Just right for a rainy night in November." — Nov 14, 2021 07:05PM
“He quite liked the English. They tended to say sorry a lot, which was quite understandable given their heritage and the crimes of their ancestors.”
― The Long Earth
― The Long Earth
“Amazin’,” he said again. “He just looks as though he’s thinking, right?” “Er . . . yes.” “But he’s not actually thinking?” “Er . . . no.” “So . . . he just gives the impression of thinking but really it’s just a show?” “Er . . . yes.” “Just like everyone else, then, really,” said Ridcully.”
― Hogfather
― Hogfather
“Her favourite summer memories were not of events themselves, of picnics, sea bathing, tennis afternoons and cricket matches, but of watching Hugh and Daniel enjoying them and locking into memory the delight in their faces and their open laughter.”
― The Summer Before the War
― The Summer Before the War
“On the far left is Jane Austen, who of course died in 1817 in our inferior universe. In the pocket universe, she lives to ninety-five and writes dozens of bestselling masterpieces and makes a mint and lives happily ever after.”
― The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage
― The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage
“The third time out he concluded that we were hunting cows.
That was a day that will live long in memory. Mutt threw himself into cow chasing with a frenzy that was almost fanatical. He became, in a matter of hours, a dedicated dog. It was a ghastly day, yet it had its compensations for Father. When we returned home that night, very tired, very dusty–and sans birds—he was able to report to Mother that her "hunting dog" had attempted to retrieve forty-three heifers, two bulls, seventy-two steers, and an aged ox belonging to a Dukhobor family.”
― The Dog Who Wouldn't Be
That was a day that will live long in memory. Mutt threw himself into cow chasing with a frenzy that was almost fanatical. He became, in a matter of hours, a dedicated dog. It was a ghastly day, yet it had its compensations for Father. When we returned home that night, very tired, very dusty–and sans birds—he was able to report to Mother that her "hunting dog" had attempted to retrieve forty-three heifers, two bulls, seventy-two steers, and an aged ox belonging to a Dukhobor family.”
― The Dog Who Wouldn't Be
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