“Vimes was hazy on rural issues, but weren’t there supposed to be charcoal burners, woodcutters, and … he tried to think … little girls taking goodies to granny? The stories Vimes had learned as a kid suggested that all forests were full of bustle, activity, and the occasional scream. But this place was silent.”
– Terry Pratchett – The Fifth Elephant
“Sometimes Carrot sounded like a civics essay written by a stunned choirboy.”
I know that I am a small, weak man, but I have amassed a large library; I dream of dangerous places.
Once policemen stopped being civilians the only other thing they could be was soldiers.
Whether you wanted it or not, you were born, you did the best you could, and then, whether you really wanted to or not, you died.
The hated have no reason to love.
He held in front of him a scroll with a red wax seal affixed, the kind of thing believed to make a document official – or at least expensive and difficult to understand, which, in fact, amounts to the same thing.
It is a strange thing to find yourself doing something you have apparently always wanted to do, when in fact up until that moment you had never known that you had always wanted to do it, or even what it was.