He’d have to keep the Trunk going, gods knew how. He’d sort of promised the Gnu, hadn’t he? And it was amazing how people had come to rely on the clacks. He wouldn’t know how Leadpipe had fared for weeks, and even then it’d only be if the wizards were still cooperative. It was like having a finger cut off. But it was a big, cumbersome monster of a thing, too many towers, too many people, too much effort. There had to be a way of making it better and sleeker and cheaper… or maybe it was something so big that no one could run it at a profit. Maybe it was like the Post Office, maybe the profit turned up spread around the whole of society.

– on shared ideas and ideals |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal